John had just got through the door of 221B Baker street after doing a food shop when he heard the usual familiar sound of gunshots from upstairs. Now to most people this would shock them and make them run upstairs to see what had happened but John had been greeted by this sound every night of this week because by now he new what it meant. Sherlock was bored. Bored out of his mind, bored to death. He had not had a case in weeks. So he spent most of his hours shooting the wall in his silk dressing gown.
"Hello," said John, as he walked into the kitchen.
But of course he didn't reply.
John put the shopping in the fridge and sat down by the fire with his laptop to update his blog.
"What about all those disapearances, why don't you solve them?" he asked.
"Boring," Sherlock said not fully listening to his companion, but more interested in the target practise that he was doing.
"I doubt the families of those who have gone missing would agree with you Sherlock," sighed John.
"I'm bored to death, John," Sherlock complained completely ignoring John's comment. "There are no cases, none.
Just then there was a knock at the door and then the sound of the door opening and then the familiar sound of Inspector Lestrade's voice.
Sherlock's eyes twinkled.
YOU ARE READING
The Face Behind The Glass
FanfictionTerrorist attacks and murders are Sherlock's favourite but there is something fishy about this case. But then the attacker hits closer to home and his race against time begins...
