Disclaimer: I do not own, nor profit from.
Author’s Note: Again, really sorry, but I have used real places again. One is a public place though. The case will be wrapped up in the next chapter, and we are only 3 chapters from the end now! I’m on Tumblr as charanteleclerc, and I take prompts. I’m not overally good coming up for idea’s for short stories, and it would be nice to have a break from my long stories! Enjoy!
Onwards and Upwards
John froze inside, rereading the note. This had quickly turned from into a game, nothing more than a game, into something deadly.
“Sherlock.” Sherlock didn’t answer, his pale complexion nothing more than ashen now. “Sherlock!” Fearful eyes turned on each other.
“I don’t know. I don’t know, John.” John glared at Sherlock, anger laced in his eyes.
“There are bloody lives at stake. You are Sherlock Holmes. Think of something.” John hissed, menacing. Sherlock took a step back, shocked at the menace in John’s voice. He moved his gaze back down to the paper, the elegant handwriting.
“Do you love the soul or the appearance?” Sherlock turned to John. “Does that ring any bells? What book would that be from?”
“I don’t know. Sounds more like a romantic novel. Classic?” Sherlock frowned.
“Might be Austen. Do you anyone who’s read Austen?” John stared at the detective.
“You’ve never read Austen.” Sherlock shot an exasperated look at John.
“I might have. I delete everything that is non-consequential. I can’t store everything. Why, have you?” John blushed.
“Maybe when I was in upper school.” Sherlock raised a dark eyebrow.
“I was trying to impress a girl. She was obsessed with Austen. I read all of the books. She dumped me after a week.” Sherlock snorted.
“That sounds so like you. You didn’t try and write poetry, did you? Cause that would be enough to put anyone off.” John pushed Sherlock’s shoulder.
“Shut up.” A blush was staining John’s cheeks.
“Do you know them well enough?” John shook his head.
“I haven’t read them since upper school. I can’t even remember half of the plots.” Sherlock moaned.
“Who else would read them?” John suddenly reached into his pockets. Sherlock frowned. John held up his mobile.
“Your brother is calling.”
“Cut him off.”
John mocked frowned.
“Don’t be mean.”
“He shouldn’t have betrayed me.”
“He’s sorry.”
“So?” John still answered the phone, despite Sherlock’s protests.
“Hey, Mycroft.”
“John. How are you?”
“I’m good, thanks. You?”
“I’m fine.” Mycroft’s tone was surprised. “I was just wondering how you were coping after the... rooftop incident. Greg said you were pretty cut up.” John laughed.
“I know. I was just feeling low. You don’t have to worry anymore.”
“Okay.” Mycroft sighed. “I’ll talk to you later.”
