Perjury (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 2

BANG!...BANG!

John Watson walked out of the kitchen to find his flatmate Sherlock Holmes firing rounds into the wall.

"Sherlock, what are you..." he began.

"Bored!" Sherlock yelled as he put the pistol behind his back and expertly shot the eye of the yellow smiley face that had been spray painted on the wall.

"Sherlock..." John tried again.

"Bored!" Sherlock yelled, this time holding the pistol beneath his left arm and shooting the other eye of the smiley.

"Sherlock, please..." John tried a third time.

"I NEED A CASE, JOHN!" Sherlock exclaimed as he slid the pistol onto the end table next to his chair and sat down. Resting one arm on each arm rest, the tall thirty-nine-year-old with curly black hair, light blue-green eyes, sharp cheekbones, Cupid's bow lips, and a fair complexion began impatiently drumming his fingers and tapping his left foot.

"BUT WE JUST SOLVED ONE!" John yelled in disbelief as he looked at Sherlock who was wearing a grey t-shirt, light blue pajama pants, and a blue bath robe.

"UGH. THAT WAS YESTERDAY! I NEED ONE NOW!"

"YOU REJECTED ALL OF THE OTHER ONES!"

"THOSE WERE FIVES AND SIXES. I NEED SEVENS, EIGHTS, AND NINES!"

By this time, John had sat down in his chair across from Sherlock and opened his laptop. He opened his blog and started listing off some of the proposed cases.

"A young woman's husband is never home to help their son with his schoolwork."

Sherlock steepled his hands, rested his chin on the tips of his fingers, and closed his eyes. "The father is having an affair with the son's teachers," he said dismissively as he flicked his right hand outward. "Next."

John scrolled down. "A suspicious mother who noticed her unemployed daughter suddenly has an unusual amount of money."

"Prostitute, obviously. Next," Sherlock said with another gesture.

John raised his eyes from his laptop and looked at Sherlock with an expression that could only be read as 'Seriously'. Returning his gaze to the screen, John clicked on the next message and began reading.

"I think I have a case," he began.

"That's what they all think," Sherlock interrupted as he opened his eyes to look at John, "but only twenty percent are worth my time, sixty-five percent I can solve without leaving the flat, and the other fifteen percent are rubbish." He closed his eyes. "Continue."

John gave Sherlock a disgusted look and continued to read. "I found some old 'Missing Persons' clippings between the mattress and headboard of my 'mum's' bed," he read, emphasising "mum's" with air quotes. "Each one had the same image of a baby girl on them, and they were from a variety of news sources both national and international. I have a terrible feeling this has something to do with me. Please help."

Sherlock rose from his chair and slowly walked over to the window. With his hands clasped behind his back, Sherlock stared out at the people walking along the street. After a short while, he turned to John and asked, "Did she leave a name?"

John scanned the message. "Yes, she did," he answered.

Sherlock slowly nodded, turned back around, and stated, "First name only, I presume."

"Um, yeah, actually," John said, looking up at Sherlock.  "How does this change anything?"

Maintaining his focus out the window, Sherlock explained, "It doesn't change anything about the case, but it allows me to understand our client better."  Sherlock turned so that he faced John, steepled his fingers beneath his chin, and began pacing in the space between his chair and John's.  "She signed using her first name and only her first name, suggesting that she either feels like she doesn't belong, or that she is trying to distance herself from her past life."