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

{ sixty-one }

A/N I'm back from the dead! I've about two weeks until school starts and my wisdom teeth slated to be removed this week. Hopefully the medicine doesn't effect me too much and I can still write. Any prayers/good vibes would be much appreciated. I love you all!!

Mary and John laid in bed. Their voices were hushed as they talked until they were tired. Or, rather, until they were run down enough to sleep. Ever since Rosie was born, they were permenately tired. Mary sighed quietly, "You should have seen the state of the front room. It was like 'The Exorcist'."

John let out a disgusted chuckle, "Was Rosie's head spinning 'round?"

"No," Mary huffed, "Just the projectile vomiting."

"Nice," John remarked in a revolted whisper.

Mary let her eyes drift shut as she felt sleep closing in on her. "You know," she said, as one last thing, "You think we'd have noticed when she was born." John turned his head to look at her, confused, "Noticed what?"

Her eyes opened and she  looked over at her husband, "The little six-six-six on her forehead."

John shook his head, "No. That's 'The Omen'. You said it was like 'The Exorcist'. They're two different things. She can't be the Devil and the Antichrist." At that very moment, Rosie began to cry. John lifted his head a bit, looking over to the doorway tiredly. Mary groaned, "Can't she be?"

She got up from the bed and moved to the door, calling out to her child. "It's alright," Mary said softly, "Mummy's coming." John rolled over in bed and picked up his phone, clicking it on. The screen flared to life, illuminating his face. He furrowed his brow as he read the screen.

<>

"Have you heard about that thing in Germany?"

Sherlock looked over at Carmen. They were standing in the young hacker, Craig's, living room. Carmen shrugged and Sherlock rolled his eyes far back into his head. "You'll have to be a bit more specific than that, Craig," Sherlock huffed.

"Er, Ostalgie," Craig said absentmindedly, peering into the screens in front of him. The whole room was dark and stuffy. It was only lit but the nearly a dozen monitors shining their codes. It made Carmen's eyes hurt to just look at. "It's people who miss the old days under the Communists," Craig continued, "People are weird, huh?"

Sherlock and Carmen both hummed in agreement. Being in the crime solving business meant you saw the weirdness of people's secret lives that usually, well, remained secret. There wasn't much that could surprise the two of them much anymore. Craig leaned forward to peer at the screen more closely.

"According to this there is quite a market for Cold War memorabilia," Craig said, "Thatcher, Reagan, Stalin. Time's a great leveler, isn't it? Thatchers like, I don't know, Napoleon now."

Sherlock reached over to Carmen and took her hand into his, squeezing it in annoyance. She spoke for him, because whatever he was going to say wouldn't be as kind as her words. "Yes, Craig. That's fascinating and totally relevant. But where exactly do the busts come from?"

"Well, I've got into records," Craig said, pulling up some boring looking documents, "Looks like... Gelder and Co. Seems they're from Georgia."

"Where exactly?" Sherlock asked shortly.

"Um, Tbilisi," Craig read out, "They made a batch of six. One to Welsborough, one to Hassan, one to Dr. Barnicot, two to Miss Orrie Harker, and one to a Jack Sandeford of Reading."

At that moment, Sherlock's phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and gestured to Carmen to come closer. She obliged. Sherlock swiped to accept the call and held the phone aloft between the two of them so they could both hear.