Child's Play

Chapter #9: Lucky Cat

I jumped when a slamming door alerted Sherlock and me to the presence of John. The small ball I had been tossing up in the air and catching smacked me on the forehead and bounced off to the side. I sighed and slowly sat up on the couch, rubbing my head as I did so. Sherlock of course hadn’t reacted from the noise. He was still over in front of the fireplace with a book in hand which he was looking down at and reading. The mirror was almost entirely covered up now by several sheets of paper with various ciphers and pictograms on them.  

Sherlock didn’t turn as John marched into the living room. “You’ve been a while.”

I swallowed as John moved a few more paces before stopping. His shoulders grew rigid and his fists clenched. Slowly his head turned and stared over at Sherlock. I silently waited, and hoped, for John to tackle Sherlock to the floor out of pure anger. Not only would it be really amusing to watch, but Sherlock did deserve it for leaving John behind without a second thought. 

“Yeah, well, you know how it is,” he bit out. “Custody sergeants don’t really like to be hurried, do they?”

“What happened, John?” I carefully asked as the doctor started to pace with a forced smile on his face. 

John turned his smile on me and I quickly averted my eyes. “What happened? I’ll tell you what happened, Blu,” John began. “Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and I’ve gotta be in Magistrates Court on Tuesday.” As he finished, John looked back over at Sherlock and gave the detective a dark look.

His look grew worse as Sherlock looked up, clearly not listening to a single word that John had just said. “What?”

“Sherlock!” I scolded. If I still would have had my ball, I’d have thrown it at his head.

“Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday,” John exclaimed. His voice changed and grew a bit more rough. “They’re givin’ me an ASBO!”

I glared along with John as Sherlock went back to his book. “Good. Fine.”

I huffed and stood to my feet. I placed my hands on my hips and shook my head. “Stupid detective,” I muttered.  

“You wanna tell your little pal he’s welcome to go and own up any time,” John said to the dark haired man. 

Still not listening, Sherlock slammed shut his book. “This symbol: I still can’t place it.” He turned and placed his book down before walking over to us. He eyed John as the doctor started to take off his jacket and quickly hurried over to him. “No, I need you to go to the police station…,” Sherlock said, grabbing at John’s jacket and pulling it back onto the man’s shoulders. I snorted into the palm of my hand at the sight. 

John didn’t look happy at being forced to go right back outside after just getting home. “Oi, oi, oi!” he argued. 

“ ...ask about the journalist,” Sherlock finished, pushing John towards the door and then out of it.

“Oh, Jesus!” I heard John say in exasperation out in the hall. 

Sherlock reached behind the door and grabbed his own coat off of it. “His personal effects will have been impounded. Get hold of his diary, or something that will tell us his movements.” As he started to pull on his coat, he stepped out into the hall. “Blu, with me!”

I blinked. “Uhh…okay?” I grabbed my own coat off of the floor and dashed after both boys while pulling it on to me.

“Gonna go and see Van Coon’s P.A.,” Sherlock told us as he pulled on his gloves and I shut the door. He had already put his scarf on in the building. John stood next to me as we stared at the detective. “If we retrace their steps, somewhere they’ll coincide.”