Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 36- Swimming Pool Trauma

Emily's POV

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"Get ready. We're leaving in ten minutes. Pack swimwear."

Millie stops reading.

I stop typing.

John stops eating toast.

We all turn around to look at Sherlock incredulously.

What did he just say?

"Come again-?" asks John, frowning and tilting his head to one side.

"Didn't you hear me? I said-"

"No... I heard you- at least I think I did."

Sherlock looks round at all of us, marvelling at our apparent stupidity.

"We're going swimming. Well, Millie and Emily are. We need to observe from a distance."

"Hang on-" says John, putting down his newspaper- "Start again. From the beginning."

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I can't believe I'm doing this.

I glare at Sherlock who's sitting in the cafe overlooking the pool. He's looking into the distance, his thoughts elsewhere, holding a coffee cup that he has no intention of drinking from. John waves sheepishly, and pulls out a chair next to him.

Apparently, Lestrade called, and told Sherlock that there'd been a chain of "changing room" homicides occurring over the last few months. He'd been tipped off that another one was going to occur today, by an anonymous source. Sherlock, intrigued, had avidly researched the locations of all the previous murders. The victims had last been seen at this swimming pool. They'd been seen exiting the pool with a man, who had yet to be identified, and gone into the changing rooms, for what had been assumed would be an 'intimate encounter'.

They never came out.

They were found dead, asphyxiated, by the look of the just-forming bruising around their necks, still wet from the pool.

And they were all women.

That's where we come in.

I walk quickly across the tiles, head down, uncomfortable at revealing so much bare skin. I don't know where Millie is.

I slide into the water, looking down with distaste at the skimpy bikini. Personally, I'd have much rather worn the swimming costume, but Millie got there first. We had to stop by the pool shop, because neither of us actually owned any swimwear.

I see Millie emerge from a cubicle and hastily make her way across the floor, her arms folded across her chest. I smile internally, knowing that she's feeling equally awkward in this situation. She stops at the steps, looking down into the water with a strained expression. 

Five minutes pass.

Ten minutes.

She hasn't got into the pool.

I'm about to lose my patience, when I stop, remembering suddenly.

Water.

She's still suffering from the after effects of her interrogation. Just like I can't sleep at night. And Sherlock can never quite clear his head. And John can't sit back in chairs.

It's been three months since we left the building and all it's dark experiences behind.

It's been three months since our prison and captor were blown up simultaneously.