The Great Game [Reader Insert]

Boom.

     As soon as Mycroft left, Sherlock's phone started ringing. He put his phone to his ear. "Sherlock Holmes."

     Whatever the voice on the other side of the end said, it immediately got his attention. Sherlock slowly smiled. "Of course. How could I refuse?" He got up and set the violin down on the couch.

     "Lestrade," he announced. "I've been summoned. Coming?" he asked, looking directly at John and not at you. Probably a bit angry at you about Mycroft.

     "If-If you want me to," John answered.

     "Of course." Sherlock smirked. "I'd be lost without my blogger." He stepped out the door, then paused, looking back at you. "I suppose you could come too, if you want," he said in a disinterested voice.

     "Oh, don't be ridiculous; I don't need your permission."

{I-I}

     "You two like the funny cases, don't you? The.... surprising ones." Lestrade led the group into the office at a brisk pace.

     "Obviously," Sherlock replied.

     "Well, you'll love this." Lestrade took a right past Donovan's desk, and her gaze followed you and Sherlock suspiciously. "That explosion.:

     "Gas leak, yes?"

     "No."

     "No?" you asked.

    "No. Made to look like one!" Lestrade came to a stop in what you presumed to be his office. "Hardly anything left of the place, except a strongbox." He looked down to a white envelope on the cold metal table in the center of the room and continued, "A very strong box, and inside it was this."

     Sherlock picked up the bulky envelope. "You haven't opened it?"

     "Well, it's addressed to you and (Y/N), isn't it?" And yeah, it was. On the front of the envelope, it was written in blue sharpie, "Sherlock Holmes and (Y/N) (L/N)."

      "Nice stationery. Bohemian," you observed. John tilted his head and looked at you quizzically. You sighed and explained. "From the Czech Republic."

     "No fingerprints?" Sherlock asked Lestrade. Lestrade shook his head in response and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the paper. "She used a fountain pen," he murmured. "Parker Duofold, iridium nib."

     "She?" John asked.

     "Obviously."

     John struggled not to sigh. "Obviously."

     Sherlock frowned at the paper, apparently in deep concentration. He moved to one end of the room where there was a table-lamp and he held up the envelope under the light. He picked up a letter opener from the open desk and carefully sliced end of the envelope as you watched.

    And then, he pulled from it... a pink smartphone. 

     John gasped. "That-that's the phone, the pink phone!"

     "What, from the Study in Pink?" asked Lestrade, whose view to the envelope was obstructed by Sherlock.

 "Well, obviously it's not the same phone," Sherlock muttered, still in deep concentration. "But it's supposed to look like-" his intense look fell and he turned around. "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

     Sally had just come into the room to set down some files on a desk. She looked up as Lestrade said, "Of course I reads his blog; we all do. Do you really not know that the Earth goes 'round the sun?"   Sally sniggered. Sherlock glared at her until she awkwardly left the room.

     "Like I was saying," Sherlock scowled. "It isn't the same phone." He took a deep breath. "This one's brand new. Someone's been through a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone."

     You frowned. "Which means John's blog has a far wider readership," you said, looking at him like it was his fault. He blinked at you innocently.

     Sherlock rolled his eyes and fiddled with the smart phone. "You have: One new message," an automated female voice said. The message played: Five Greenwich Time Signal pips, the last one longer than the rest. You furrowed your brow.

    "Is that it?" John asked.

     "No, that's not it," Sherlock answered as something new popped up on the screen. A photo  had been uploaded to the phone. Lestrade came over to see. It was a picture of an empty room with a fireplace on one wall. The wallpaper was peeling and there was a tall mirror on one corner of the room and something above the mantelpiece, possibly another mirror, that was hard to make out because of the poor photo quality.

    "What are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade groaned complaintively. "An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!?"

     "It's a warning," you realized.

     "A warning?"

     "Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that," Holmes began to explain. "Five pips. They're warning us it's gonna happen again." He waved the phone toward everyone. "I've seen this place before," he said, starting to leave the office. You and John followed. 

     "H-hang on," John called, "What's gonna happen again?"

     Sherlock turned around as he walked and made an exploding gesture with his hands. "Boom!"