Him, Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 4~ Baker street. Now.

Edited 7/24/2k16

-------John's POV--------

I walk over to the fridge looking for even the slightest hint of food. Nothing. It's also Sherlock's turn to get the milk. I sigh. Might as well save time and get it myself.

-------Willow's POV---------

I blink open my eyes to the smell of tea and the heavy warmth of blankets on top of me. I sit up and a pain runs through my back. I sit up and look around. This is different I'm not in my 'flat'. I look across from me to see Sherlock. I'm at Baker street. I stand up and go into the kitchen. I see John standing there making tea. I stare at him oblivious to what's going on. He glances back at me and smiles.

"Ah, you're awake." He said gleefully. I blink at him unknowing how to respond. "You fell asleep on the armchair," He takes the platter of tea and begins towards the living area. "I decided to let you sleep after all you must be like Sherlock. Not sleeping for days." I nod. Now I should be able to ask him about Moriarty.

"John?"

"Mhm."

"Do you know the man named 'James Moriarty'," I say with unease. I look up to see John turning around and staring at me with a gaped mouth. I shook my head violently. "No never mind forget I ever asked. I'll be heading back to my friends flat." I turn and run down the stairs, shutting the door behind me. I walk about a block or two and then hail a taxi cab.

I'm home and shuffling through the kitchen for food. I haven't eaten for three days. I might as well eat when I get the chance. I walk into my room with the apple in my mouth. I grab the laptop to the right of my bed. Time to do some researching, I type Moriarty and find a couple of articles. I find the Latin translator. Maybe his name will describe who he is. Very unlikely but still. I type 'Moriarty Mori art ti' into the translator. ' Moriarty Was an art to die'.

"You could ask about me yourself."

-------John's POV---------

I pace around the room waiting for Sherlock to wake up. Why was she asking about him? He's dead. I'm sick of waiting, I walk over to Sherlock and rip the blankets off of him revealing the cold. He groans and looks at me with piercing eyes.

What do you want, John." His words weren't questioning but commanding. His piercing ice blue eyes threatening me. I sigh.

"Willow asked about Moriarty." I said looking into his eyes. His brows furrowed. He pulls out his phone and starts to type rapidly with his thumbs.

-------Willow's POV--------
          
I stare at Moriarty with confusion. My phone buzzes in my lap I look down. It's a text from Sherlock.

"Baker Street. Now. -SH"

It must be important. I look up at Moriarty again but he's gone. How?! I keep asking myself as I gather things to go to Baker Street. I grab a few changes of clothes in case I fall asleep again. I head out the door and call a cab.

*****