The Mind Reader - A Sherlock Fanfic

The Message Man

"Sherlock! We need to go, now!" John's voice calls from the bottom of the stairs.

I've been sitting on the couch for hours, it seems. Listening to Lestraude franticly talk and pace the living room felt like an eternity itself, as usual. I eventually tuned out his voice and let my mind take control of me. When I let myself come too, John, who was sitting in his arm chair before, was putting on his coat and following Lestraude down the staircase to the front door. This was about the time John called up to me to get going. Like clockwork, I whip on my trench coat and bound down the stairs, out the door, and into a black car. 

"So, I didn't listen to anything you said before. What happened again?" I admit when we all settle in the car.

Lestraude rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, for once can you not be such a pain in the ass?" 

"No. Probably not,"

"Ugh. We got a call from a Mrs. Matilda Herrington. She said her husband, Tom, was brutally attacked. Tom is an investigative journalist and he was working on a story about some cat burglaries over the past few weeks-"

"We're not taking about someone who is stealing cats, right?"

"Honestly, Sherlock! No! We are talking about small scale robberies. You know, you come home to find your safe open and your diamonds and rare artifacts are missing. Those types of robberies,"

"I was just making sure," I say through a small grin.

"Good lord, A-... I mean... She changed you," He sighs under his breath.

John's eyes widen at the sound of her name and he glances at me, then to Lestraude. I can tell he's expecting me to lash out. Not worth it. 

It's nearly been two months since any sign of her. After that whole scene at the hospital, I expected Amy to come back. I expected something, anything. I know she wouldn't have wanted me to blame myself for what happened, but I can't help it. She was reckless, everyone knew that. I guess thats why everyone liked her. I should've let her climb that ladder before me, it would've saved her. Instead, I could only hear the gunshot and watch her die, too far up the ladder to climb down and help her. I spent weeks trying to find her and the killer, to no avail. When I gave up, I practically glued myself to the couch. She loved that couch. Ugh, Why didn't I just tell her? I've never had a regret like that! Why was she so-

"Sherlock, we're here," John breaks my thoughts.

The car pulls up to a series of modern looking flats. The three of us file out of the car and walk over to a crowd of people. Why are crime-scenes so interesting to people? It's only the work of terrible and possibly dangerous criminals. What's so exciting about that? We push through the crowd of people and Lestraude leads us inside. "So, Mr. Herrington came too about a half an hour ago. Sherlock, he's in a sensitive state. So, don't get all... you know,"

"Don't be a complete show off. Got it," I say as we all enter the flat. 

A few officers are here already. Their all inspecting for clues and such. Lestraude leads us into what I gather is the dining room. The walls are all pure white. White marble with black detail covers the floor and a large white carpet spreads in the center of the room. An old fashioned, dark, oval-shaped, wooden table stands on the white carpet. Eight matching wooden chairs surround the table, and a matching cabinet covers the wall opposite the door. A crystal chandelier hangs from the center of the room. At one head of the table, a middle-aged, clearly beat up man slouches in the chair. To his right, a blonde woman stares deeply in his eyes, clutching his hands.

He has light brown hair. Nicely trimmed, neat stubble. Judging by his stature and his clothes, his job serves him well. She has the same type of quality of clothes as he does, more business than casual. Her hair is in a tight bun, her lips painted ruby red, and a string of pearls hang from her neck, making her seem more higher class. They seem like they are the annoying sort of people who think them better than everyone. Ugh, I hate dealing with this breed.