Him, Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 6~ Cabby Drivers and Dead Bodies

Edited 4/13/2017

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

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"He started coming to your house because he wants you involved!" Sherlock is furious, but I mask my fear with an unreadable face. His breathing becomes more quick or fast paced. "He wants to turn you against me.... Me in anyway possible!" He looks back at me again. Analyzing my face intensely. His blue eyes stopping time.

"What game?" I raise a dark eyebrow. Sherlock looks slightly confused. He puts his hands on my shoulders roughly. I stiffen, but keep my face straight. John pops in.

"How 'bout we go out and talk about it. Maybe in a restaurant?" As he says this I can hear his stomach growl. I look at John and smile wanly-

"Of course John," I look back at Sherlock and smile half-heartedly. "We'll come with you." Sherlock frowns and I grin. I grab Sherlock's coat and throw it at him. I grab my own and put it on. I look over to Sherlock who isn't putting on his coat. I raise my eyebrows, "Do you need help getting that on?" I ask pausing my position and holding back laughter. He flinches and his eyebrows furrow.

"What?! No, of course-" I hear John laughing his head off in the background cutting Sherlock off. I suppress a smile.

"Come on, I'll call a cabby." I holler as I run down the stairs in my converse. Smack. Smack. Smack. The shoes on my  feet hit the stairs with intense smacking. I shove my way through the door. I have tried suppressing my smile for too long. When Sherlock and John come out the door I am smiling from ear to ear. My cheeks start to hurt but I keep on smiling. Why am I smiling? Is it because I'm being with people I know? My smile stops.

Could I trust them like.....like friends?

The word made me wince. I've never been able to trust anyone nor have I ever had friends. People never seemed to come to me. Most of them seemed scared of me. I never knew why, but John and Sherlock came to me. Talked to me. They aren't scared of me. They are more worried than anything. I shake my head. This is nonsense. The cab stopped suddenly and jerked me forward.

Sitting in the middle gave me a perfect view of what was going on. I looked through the windshield. There was a body lying in the front of the car, splattered with blood. Deep crimson channeled onto black top and fresh scent of death lingers. I look at Sherlock who is at my left. He doesn't seem to know what's going on. I see his eyes roll then he looks at me. He pulls back confused.

"What's wrong?" I can tell he's very withdrawn by my face.

"Looks like there's a dead body do you want to see?" I say in a low voice so John doesn't hear. He nods. I reach over him and open the door. John watches us as we get out of the car.

"What are you two doing?!" He whispers violently. We don't answer and John follows. I get out of the car and walk over to the front of it. I stop and crouch down. Examining the body I could tell that he wasn't hit by a car. There was blood only on the neck, but it was splattered everywhere else. There seemed to be a hole in the neck. I look back at John and Sherlock. Sherlock is emotionless. John is freaking out. I stand back up and walk to Sherlock.

"It wasn't the car." I whisper.

"Agreed."

"Sniper maybe?"

"It would seem so, but if it was why the neck. Wouldn't a sniper aim for the chest and head?"

"Unless they're different." I say smirking a little bit. The corner of his lip turns up slightly- almost unnoticeable. I turn my head to the sound of John sighing.

"I'll call an ambulance and Lestrade." John says as casually as possible. Sherlock jumps in-

"Tell Lestrade not to bring Anderson. His existence throws off my thinking. Better if we don't have him in my presence as well." Sherlock says flatly. I can hear the humor in his voice but only slightly. I suppress my laughter.

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