Contact High → Sherlock Holmes (BBC) [on hold]

{ twelve }

The next morning, Sherlock and John sat in their flat and watched the morning news. Carmen walked up the stairs and into the flat, "Hello, boys." They hummed in response. Carmen once again took up her spot on the arm of Sherlock's chair. She tuned into the news. It was about the explosion. They were saying it was a gas leak, though all three knew it was a lie. Twelve people were counted among the dead.

They all watched for a moment in silence as the cameras zoomed in on various damage. Sherlock huffed a sigh, "Well, obviously I lost that round, although technically I did solve the case." He angrily clicked the television off. Carmen looked over at him in dismay. That round? Did he really see it only as a game?

"He killed the old lady because she started to describe him," Sherlock said, "Just once, he put himself in the firing line."

"What do you mean?" Carmen asked.

Sherlock's arm brushed against her back as he gestured with his hands, "Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organizes these things, but no one ever has direct contact."

"What, like the Connie Prince murder? He arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded, "Novel." He looked down at the pink phone in his hand, "Taking his time, this time."

"Anything on the Carl Powers case?" Carmen asked the both of them.

Sherlock sighed, "No. Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless, no connection." Carmen hummed in disappointment. She supposed that would've been too easy. "Maybe the killer was older than Carl?" Carmen asked. Sherlock clasped his hands together, "The thought had occurred."

"So why's he doing this then?" John burst out, "Playing this game with you? Do you think he wants to be caught?"

"I think he wants to be distracted," Sherlock breathed. John chuckled angrily and stood, "Well, you'll be very happy together." Carmen shifted uncomfortably on the arm of the chair. She really didn't want to be in the middle of their row. Sherlock was quiet for a moment, and Carmen could tell he was confused by John's sudden change in attitude. "Sorry, what?" Sherlock asked.

John turned around, "There are lives at stake here, Sherlock! Actual human lives. Just-just so I know, do you care about that at all?"

Sherlock clenched his jaw, "Will caring about them help save them?"

"Nope," John snapped.

"Then I'll continue to make that mistake," Sherlock fired back.

Carmen moved to tug on Sherlock's jacket sleeve but he shrugged away from her touch. She stood from the arm of the chair and hovered in a sort of hazy anger. John gripped the back of his own chair, "And you find that easy, do you? Not caring?"

"Yes, very," Sherlock raised his voice, "Is that news to you?"

"No, it's not," John said. He had an unsettling smile on his face, like you knew he was angry but he was doing a good job hiding it. Carmen shivered.

"I've disappointed you," Sherlock noted.

"That's a good deduction, yeah," John agreed.

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did I wouldn't be one of them," Sherlock muttered.

Carmen moved to go stand by John. Sherlock furrowed his brow at her, surprised that she was picking a side, and that that side was with John. "He's right, Sherlock. I know you cared about saving the old woman. I saw it in your face. Burying it inside under your pride and your deductions doesn't make it go away," Carmen said softly.