A Network of Love

Piano Keys

Part 5

Suddenly the alarm on sherlock's phone goes off and we both flinch, snapping out of our pretty world. "What is it?" I ask and even I can hear the disappointment out of my voice. I don't want this moment to end; for the first time I felt completely happy and whole. His body was so near to mine...if I would've stood on my tiptoes, our lips would have met...

"We have to go" Sherlock informs me and goes to grab his coat. "What? Where are we going?" I ask confused. "Why, we are going to Nacy's apartment to see what's in the box" he walks out the door and I follow him quickly, grabbing my jacket while doing so. "When did we plan that?" I ask confused, trying to remember the conversations we had today. "Right after we got home" he turns to frown at me, probably judging my memory right now, but I only sigh at him. "Sherlock, I went straight to the shower when we got home" "Well, it's not my fault when you don't listen" he turns around again and quickens his pace. I shake my head; this is so typical! I have given up trying to get him to stop this behaviour a long time ago. We get into a cab and start driving. I can barely stand him being so near to me, after the way I felt when we danced. His breath smelled so good, like freshly plucked mint. Wondering if Sherlock notices the fast beating of my heart, I look out the window, watching the lights trail by. After half an hour of my brain arguing with itself, the cab stops. Sherlock and I get out of the taxi two streets away from Jackman's house. I watch Sherlock's black figure, the outline of his coat that I could recognize anywhere and can't help to wonder. What was the dance all about? Was it really only to keep me from thinking too much, or was there something behind it? I shake my head. Now is not the time to think about this, I chide myself. Overthinking won't lead me to anything anyways. So I follow his steps, we climb up a fire escape to a balcony. The plan is simple; search for hints in her house and most importantly: find the package. Sherlock slides along the wall, his feet barely fitting on the small edge of concrete between the balconies. He jumps on yet another one, the window is tilted. I follow slowly, we aren't that high up. A flash of memory catches me, I remember walking along the wall when our camp was attacked in the war. Quickly, I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on where I am. I jump next to Sherlock, who is hitting the window with the palm of his hand. With a grinding sound it pops open and he crawls through with me right behind him. We stand in a small living room, there is a couch, a small tabel in front of it, a television on the wall and a piano next to the small oven. Determination rises in my chest and I banish all the confusing thoughts of us dancing and my feelings way back into my brain. Another good trait I learned from the war. Systematically we search the room, we don't even have to comunicate; I take the left side and he the right. I move on to the next room, the bedroom, I look under the bed, go through the drawers and the closet, making sure that nothing is out of place when I leave it. My heart pounds in my chest, I have never liked these little adventures, they make me feel like I'm a criminal myself. Suddenly I hear Sherlock's voice out of the living room. "John" he simply calls and immediately I am through the door. He stands next to the piano, the lid is opened. I stand next to him, our shoulders touch, sending a shiver through my body. He holds the package, it was opened once. "How did you know it was in there?" I ask amazed; he must have noticed something, because he found it in about three minutes. "The keys" he says, pointing at them, "They are covered in dust, it hasn't been played on for at least three months. It's not here to be played on so it must have another purpose." I shake my head in wonderment; Sherlock never ceases to surprise me. He opens the lid and in it is- a piece of paper. I don't know what I expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Sherlock pulls it out and frowns at it- I guess even after telling me to stop theorizing about it, he did so himself; maybe he needed just as much distraction as I did. My thoughts threaten to come back from the back of my brain, but I quickly look at the paper. "What does it say?" I ask curiously. "It is some sort of 'what to do when' list" he frowns at it. I love when he does that, he somehow wrinkles his nose and furrows his brows at the same time- and still looks good. "What?" I ask and take the paper. He obviously read it before, as he now sits down on the couch, his fingertips touching in front of his mouth so it looks like a teepee. I focus on the piece of paper.

If you have news, first report to Paul.

If you have a package, and live in area 1 report to Paul and send it over the Queen to Paul.

If you have a package and live in area 2, report to Paul and send it over Ben to Paul.

The list goes on like that. "Are all those people terrorists? And why was this package sent here if it all seems to go to Paul?" I turn around to Sherlock. "Because they made a mistake. Nancy wasn't happy when she got it" he murmurs, deep in thought. I wonder again what he is thinking, what conclusions does he make? I take out my phone and make a picture of the paper. Sherlock stands up and without a word he climbs out the window again. I sigh; when he is thinking he tends to forget I am there, although he always talks subconsciously with me- even if i'm not there. I just follow him, across the edge, over the balconies and down the fire escape. We get a cab and sit; and when I touch the leather of the seats, I still don't know what to think.