Hello Detective

The Hounds of Baskerville Part 1

The next few days had began like any other, until I got sick. It started just with vomiting in the mornings and then into the day it progressed into a nice cold. I thought it might have been food poisoning, but it seemed more persistent than that. It seemed to be a bad cold mixed with a stomach bug.
    I called in sick for work and Lestrade told me to stay home until I was symptom free, he couldn't risk anyone else getting sick at work.
    I needed to go to a doctor, but I didn't have a set one here, I had only lived here for about a year, and it had been a very busy year. I called John instead and told him what was happening. He told me he thought it was a cold too, but if I came over to the flat he could check me out and possibly give me some medication.
    I did just that, I walked around the corner to Baker Street, wrapping my coat tightly around me as I walked.
John looked at me, and confirmed I had a cold and possibly also 24 hour stomach bug that should subside soon. I was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket while John made me some tea. I probably looked terrible, I hadn't slept well, and I was just sick. Suddenly the door flew open and the sight in front of me almost made me scream.
Sherlock was standing in the doorway with his white sleeves rolled up, his face and shirt covered in blood, and holding a harpoon.
"Well, that was tedious." He said, casually.
"You went on the tube like that?" John asked him after handing me my tea.
"None of the cabs would take me." Sherlock said, now turning to me. "You're sick."
"Obviously." I shot back.
"Are you alright? Do you need anything? Lay down, rest. We'll take care of you." Sherlock said quickly, rushing to me.
"Okay mother, calm down." I smiled. Sherlock left to take a quick shower and change his clothes. He came back out into the living room in his dress pants and white shirt, with his blue dressing robe on, still holding his harpoon. He began pacing in front of the couch, just watching him was making me tired.
"Anything?" Sherlock asked John, referring to the paper he was reading.
"Military coup in Uganda. Another photo of you in the er..." John began and pointed to a picture of Sherlock in his favorite deer stalker.
"Ugh!" Sherlock sighed while still pacing.
"Well, um, Cabinet reshuffle."John read.
"Nothing of importance? Oh, God!" Sherlock yelled, banging his harpoon on the floor. It made me jump slightly.
"John, I need some. Get me some." Sherlock said and I scoffed.
"No." John said.
"Get me some." Sherlock now turning back to face me.
"Absolutely not." I said, laying down on the couch.
"Cold turkey we agreed, no matter what,"  John said, pointing his finger at Sherlock. "Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two-mile radius will sell you any."
"Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" Sherlock asked. John only cleared his throat and didn't answer.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled. He turned to his desk and began throwing papers everywhere. He was rummaging through every drawer looking for cigarettes.
"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well, don't give up now!" John said to Sherlock, who was still turning the living room upside down.
"Tell me where they are! Please, tell me." Sherlock said. His tone changed to almost a puppy dog look "Please."
"Can't help, sorry." John said, looking to me and rolling his eyes.
"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." Sherlock said, to which John only laughed, "It was worth a try."
"You know where the are don't you, Adelaide?" Sherlock turned to me.
"Of course I know where they are, that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you." I said, nuzzling deeper into the couch. Sherlock began eyeing the couch cushions under me, thinking the cigarettes were hiding under there. He took a step closer to me and began to bend down to look.
"Don't even think about it. They're not under there and I'm not moving just so you can check." I scolded.
Sherlock groaned and jumped across the room to the fire place. He shook a shoe and threw it behind him when he found it to be empty.
"Yoo-hoo." Mrs. Hudson said, walking into the room.
"My secret supply, what have you done with my secret supply?" Sherlock asked, making a mess.
"Eh?" She asked confused.
"Cigarettes, what have you done with them?" Sherlock asked.
"You know you never let me touch your things! Oh, chance would be a fine thing. Oh hello dear, are you alright?" Mrs.Hudson said, turning to me.
"She's sick, we're keeping an eye on her, well I am, Sherlock is..." John said, gesturing to Sherlock.
"I thought you weren't my housekeeper." Sherlock retorted to Mrs. Hudson.
"I'm not." She replied with sass.
"Argh!" Sherlock yelled, leaving the fire place and returning back to his harpoon. I saw John make a 'drink' motion to Mrs. Hudson.
"How about a nice cuppa and perhaps you could put away your harpoon?" Mrs. Hudson told him.
"I need something stronger than tea. Seven percent stronger." Sherlock said, making me worry. Last time he was bored without a case I had found him shooting a wall after he had gotten done shooting up.
"Sherlock..." I said.
"You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again." Sherlock said, now pointing his harpoon to Mrs. Hudson.
"Pardon?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking. Thumbnail. Tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads don't we. Mmm. Casbah Nights. Pretty racy for a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes." Sherlock began rambling.
"I'm sure there's a crying need for that." I muttered, Sherlock gave me a dirty look before continuing.
"It's on the website. You should look it up. I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee, he's got a wife in Doncaster, that nobody knows about." Sherlock said.
"Sherlock!" John yelled.
"Well, nobody except me." Sherlock said, was he having a psychotic break?
"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't!" Mrs. Hudson said, storming out of the room, slamming the door. Sherlock leapt into his chair, hugging his knees to his chest.
"What the bloody hell was all that about?" John asked.
"You don't understand." Sherlock said rocking slightly.
"Go after her and apologise." John instructed.
"Apologise?" Sherlock said the word as if he had never heard it before.
"Mhm." John nodded.
"Oh, John, I envy you so much." Sherlock said.
"You envy me?" John asked in disbelief.
"Your mind, it's so placid, straight-forward, barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control. A rocket, tearing itself to pieces, trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!" Sherlock yelled.
"You've just solved one, by harpooning a dead pig, apparently!" John yelled back.
"Ahh! That was this morning. When's the next one? Adelaide, does Gavin have a case?" He asked, both men turning to face me. They hadn't realized I had fallen asleep. I hadn't realized that John had mixed some medicine into my tea and it must have made me extra drowsy.
"Nothing on the website?" John whispered. Sherlock grabbed his laptop from his desk and handed it to John.
"Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help?" Sherlock dictated.
"Bluebell?" John asked confused.
"A rabbit, John!" Sherlock yelled, which surprisingly didn't wake me.
"Ah, but there's more. Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous. 'Like a fairy' according to little Kirsty. Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone. Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry. What am I saying, this is brilliant. Phone Lestrade, tell him there's an escaped rabbit." Sherlock said, seriously.
"Are you serious?" John asked.
"It's this, or Cluedo." Sherlock said.
"Ah, no. We are never playing that again." John said, removing the computer from his lap.
"Why not?" Sherlock asked, in all seriousness.
"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why." John said.
"It was the only possible solution." Sherlock argued.
"It's not in the rules." John said.
"Well, then, the rules are wrong!" Sherlock yelled.
"Shh! You're going to wake her up." John whisper yelled, pointing to me.
"Fine, I'll just move her then." Sherlock said, moving to pick me up. He carried me into his bedroom and placed me under the covers. When he was leaving his room he heard the doorbell ring.
"Single ring." John pointed out.
"Maximum pressure, just under the half second. Client!" Sherlock said.