Hostage: A Johnlock Story

Prolouge: China Plates

China Plates

John Watson wavered, paused in front of the polished wooden door. The English wind rustled his blonde hair around and he grabbed it, attempting to smooth it out.

34A Carnage Road, London

He looked at his crumpled slip of paper, the address in a scrawly cursive. John wasn't used to writing with a pen, considering the amount of time he spent writing his blog on his laptop.

John was usually excited about these cases, but, in a desperate effort to get Sherlock - the 'chosen one'- to come along, Sherlock had told him he was on another case and he wanted nothing do do with the case John was on.

John was alone. "John Watson," he whispered to himself, but couldn't think of anything else to say, knocked on the door instead.

It was a good thirty seconds or so before John realized it was already unlocked. He pushed, but it wouldn't open, so he shoved he pushed as hard as he could. The door swung open. CRASH. John inhaled sharply, and dived to the ground just as a china plate soared over his head. It narrowly dodged a passing by girl walking her terrier; she screamed and bolted as the plate smashed the flat opposite them.

John groaned. He wasn't ready for another police chase; he had just gotten over the recent escapade when Sherlock... it really wasn't worth recollection. He hesitantly stepped inside the house.

"My FOURTUNE!" A wild looking woman in purple robes screeched, firing a blue and pink vintage plate at the cowering man, huddling behind a Roman couch.

John glanced around at the house. The sparkling glass chandelier swung above the ceiling. The walls were a deep maroon colour and were covered in all kinds of paintings and mirrors. Wealthly, he noted.

"Um," he started. "Excuse me? Mis- madam?" It was a frugel attempt. The man behind the couch looked up at John, a look of plea in his gaze.

"MY FAMILY!" She continued, the stream of china plates cracking a gold bordered mirror. She hadn't even noticed John.

"M'dam? Madam. Excuse me?" John waved his short arms around desperately. He was getting extremely frustrated.

"Hey! HEY! M'DAM! EXCUSE ME PLEASE SHUT UP!" John bellowed.

The woman looked up, her grey eyes bulging and her dark hair spilling all over her crazed face.

"Who the hell ARE YOU!" She shrieked. John sighed, rubbing his fists into his eyes. This could've been way easier if Sherlock was here... he thought.