The Undefined Criminal - A Sherlock Fanfic

Not My Division

Back to square one. We've been sitting in the living room for the past hour in complete silence, and by silence, I mean, no one is talking to each other while Sherlock plays the violin. John slouches on an old armchair with his back to the kitchen, I'm laying on the couch opposite to the fireplace. Sherlock is facing the window. This routine has been going on for about a week now, since the explosion and such. Wake up, wait, eat, wait some more, go on a walk, wait again, take a nap, eat again, and wait, obviously. I think we're on our second waiting session today, great. John has his computer on his lap, the screen is on Sherlock's website, it's been like that for the past hour. Waiting for something, anything that could possibly show up that would help us get back on the case. So bloody boring! "That's it!"I exclaim as I leap from the couch. "I know there is no way we can find the Montgomerys at this point, we have no leads, and there is practically NOTHING we can do now, but I can't stand sitting on that damn couch any longer!"

I grab my black jacket and start for the door. "Where are you going?" John asked.

"Out," I reply, not bothering to look at him.

I glide down the stairs, and slam the front door behind me, the whole time Sherlock continued to play the violin. I cross the street, looking back at the window Sherlock should be in. He is staring down at me, those pale green eyes practically judging me. My mind shakes the thought out of my head and I continue on my way.

The wide streets turn into narrow alleyways. Clear views of the gray London skies are blocked by clothing lines stretching from one building to the one across from it. I turn a corner and find myself outside an old flat complex. Outdoor hallways connect small, one room flats to one another. I step inside the rusty elevator, and press the third floor button. The ride is short and bumpy, just like I remember. The door slides open, I step out onto the old cement floor. I look to my left, a small, old woman stands outside her door, smoking a cigarette. She turns her head towards me, her face lights up when she sees me. "Amy, darling!" she smiles. "Where on earth have you been? I was starting to get worried,"

She has a strong accent, like she's trying to imitate the Queen. "Oh, you know, Lisa. Keeping busy," I reply with a forced grin.

"Ah, well, from a beautiful woman like you, I expect that sort of thing," she gives me this knowing look.

"Right. Anyway, how's the family?" I say, quickly trying to change the subject.

"Oh, the same. Not talking to me," she sighs. "The grand-daughters aught to be 12 by now, oh, how I would love to see their little faces," she began to trail off.

"Well, why don't you?" Showing fake interest.

"No, no. Julia doesn't want to see me. Oh, what a terrible mother I've been!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself!" I say. "You can still make things better!"

"Yeah, well. Oh, I've waisted too much of your time already. You best be off,"

"You take care of yourself okay, Lisa?" I say as I turn to the opposite direction.

"Right back at you!" Lisa called back. "Oh, and I think Bernie turned off your water again!"

Great, I forget to pay one rent, and my water's off. Perfect. I turn and wave at Lisa one last time as I pass the elevator going right. My hands run along the old stucco, as they usually do when I walk this hall. I pass door 301, 302, and stop at one with 303 written on it with faded gold paint. A small note hangs at about eye-level on the door. You're late. Pay, then water comes back. is written on it with messy handwriting. Bernie. I take no notice of it and stick my hand in my jacket pocket, and pull out a bronze key. I stick it in the keyhole and unlock the door.