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

Chapter 60- Puppet Strings

Millie's POV

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"Emily?"

There's no answer.

John hammers on the door, to no avail. Sherlock pushes John out of the way, and examines the door handle with interest-

"Dust gathering. No recent fingerprints- judging by the oil residue, I'm estimating at least twenty-four hours without contact."

"Should we be worrying now?" asks John.

"I don't see why we should be. Not yet, anyway," I say, trying to balance reason against human emotion, "People go out. We can't jump to conclusions."

"Yeah, but this is Emily Schott we're talking about. She's hardly the type to just 'go out'," says John, looking at the door doubtfully, "Should we go in?"

"No."

"You know she doesn't keep the door locked."

"She wouldn't want us to."

"There might be some indication of where she's gone. Who knows, maybe she is in trouble?"

I pause, deliberating. Then-

"I don't think we should. We haven't tried contacting her yet. We should-"

I'm interrupted by the noise of the door swinging open. John looks behind me, eyebrows raised. Sherlock's already inside the apartment, evidently bored by our debate. 

"Looks like we're going in, then."

I follow John in to her apartment somewhat reluctantly.

"Well, she's definitely planned to go out," I conclude, looking around the room, "The place is abnormally tidy. Which suggests she had pre-planned her departure, and arranged her room accordingly. However, nothing seems out of place, so it wasn't a rushed decision, either."

Sherlock nods at me, and starts to look around the room, picking up and inspecting various items, angling them in the light. John hovers behind him-

"Sherlock, this is Emily's apartment, not a crime scene. You probably shouldn't be touching-"

But Sherlock interrupts him by waving a hand in his direction, and John falls silent, rolling his eyes.

"Nothing conclusive. I'm going to check elsewhere," Sherlock says after a while.

And he goes over to Emily's bedroom door-

"Sherlock, enough's enough- we can't keep breaking into her rooms like this. Come on- let's go. I'm sure she's fine," says John, gesturing for us to leave.

"You were the one telling  us she could be in trouble," I say, crossing my arms.

"Yes, I know, but-"

Sherlock ignores both of us, and pushes into her room, completely disregarding any social standards that might find breaking and entering into another person's bedroom somewhat disagreeable.

"Why do I bother?"

I shrug, and follow Sherlock into Emily's room. It's no longer in disarray; it looks perfectly unsuspecting. Sherlock scans it briefly, then turns to me and says-

"Where does she keep her laptop?"

I think back. Then-

"Under her bed."

Sherlock crouches down and lifts up the sheets, peering under the bed frame. He speaks out, his voice muffled-

"Nothing. She's taken her laptop with her. And given her occupational status, this is significant. She wouldn't go anywhere of importance without it. Which means that she's done something important. Without telling us, I can only derive that it is criminal," he says, pulling out from under the bed and straightening up. He sounds composed and clinical, but I can tell he's buzzing; it's been a while since he's been called out on a case, and this is exactly the kind of thing he revels in. He's suppressing frenzied excitement at the prospect of a new mystery, and he can't keep still. He looks at me, the hint of a grin behind his eyes, and says-