A Study In Sleep

Chapter. 4

The blood that flowed around the detectives body was hot, angry even as he saw the exchange between the two men, frowning in utter jealousy as he got tugged by John afterwards. He snatched his sleeve away like a child, huffing and grumbling like he has just screwed up one of his experiments. He was extremely jealous and upset considering his effort for breakfast went to waste just like his effort to tell John that he.. liked him.

John didn't know what to think when he felt Sherlock snatched his sleeve away. He sighed slightly, as they followed the trainee officer into the house. Feeling the loss of warmth from the detectives coat and the sense that Sherlock was in a mood, he dared not to question any of it, knowing the answer would probably snappy or equally as moody.

The hallway was rather short, a few old photos hooked up on the wall. Of a happy family. Greg smiling happily with his three children. The yards training day from nearly four years ago.
John smiled slightly, as they carried on walking, looking back to where they were heading.
"Just over here.." the trainee said opening the door that was on their right, leading into the living room where Sergeant Dimmock stood, with his hands on his hips, watching the forensic team get to work looking around the place.

Sherlock gazed around the house, the frown of annoyance and upset planted firmly on his face. Gazed at the photos before heading straight for the living room.

The room half a mess where a small desk was, papers everywhere and picture frames smashed, draws pulled out and turned upside down. Sherlock huffed as he looked around at everything, in a huge mood over the fact the man he cared for was offering his bed to someone else after a ruined breakfast.

"Ah, Sherlock and John, glad you could take my call so early in the morning.." Dimmock replied, "I believe this has probably just been one of those burglars that's been going round this area for a while.." he spoke, not doing anything but still watching the forensic team as they scoured the place, dusting for prints and any evidence that could help. All looking like busy but annoying blue bottled flies in those full body suits they wore.

Sherlock pushed a few of the forensic team out the way rudely as he ignored Dimmock, some of the forensics team making sounds of protest to Sherlock’s arrogance but the detective ignored it as he scanned closely over the desk, before tracing a finger on some dust at the back of the desk, an abnormally amount of dust, causing the detective to frown. However, one of the forensic team barged past him, Sherlock turning to him with a scowl of darkness.
“Do you mind?” He snapped, the curly haired man in one hell of a mood.

John was stood simply, watching the detective get to work, as he rolled his eyes slightly. The boring sound of Dimmock's voice, whirring things about the case as he stood next to the blogger.
"Do you mind asking the forensic team to move out or vacate the premises while Sherlock is working?" John asked Dimmock quietly, to which the sergeant sighed and rolled his eyes with a nod.
"Alright then, but only for a few minutes.." he replied as he lead the majority of the forensic team out of the room.

Sherlock heard John say this, the slightest of smirks gracing his lips as everyone departed. He freely moved now, fingers tracing a picture frame above the desk, smirking at it before he headed to the kitchen, noticing draws and cupboards had been rummaged through, a few broken glasses and plates. The large French window at the back had been smashed to get in, Sherlock was rolling his eyes at how plain of a burglary it was.
“Was anything taken?” He called as he headed up the stairs.

"Not as we're sure of yet.. we were only called in about half an hour before I called you both.." Dimmock spoke to John, to which the blogger called upstairs after Sherlock telling him that the police weren't entirely sure.

Sherlock searched the bedrooms before returning downstairs to his blogger and Dimmock, a moody expression on his face as he reentered he room.
“Nothing was taken.” He stayed firmly as he gazed over worn bored blue eyes to the two men, wanting to go home just like a child.
"Does that mean the person could have ran before they found anything?" John asked.
“No. They didn’t take anything because  they couldn’t find anything work stealing.” Sherlock corrected as he gazed over to John.
“What’s so obviously in this room?” He asked, obviously going to amused by the answer.
"The mess on the desk?" Dimmock pointed out, as John furrowed his brows slightly as he thought. Shaking his head a little.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at this as he took John’s hand without even thinking. His heart leapt from his chest, hand tight in John’s as he pulled him to the desk, pointing to the dust at the back of it.
“Why is there more dust here than anywhere else?” He asked, still not letting go of John’s hand, not even realising he hadn’t.
"Because it's not been moved in a long time?" John asked, attempting to not blush at the feeling of his hand in Sherlock's. He paused for a second, "wait, what if the burglar didn't steal anything because he's looking for something specific?" He asked turning to Sherlock slightly, "if it was any old burglar they could have stole anything from the house?" He suggested raising an eyebrow.

“They didn’t steal /anything/. They were looking for cash, jewels, sovereigns. They wouldn’t steal an iPad or a tv - everyone has one of those now a days.” Sherlock explained as he still held to John’s hand, keeping him incredibly close for the first time ever in their... friendship.
“The picture. It’s moved regularly. Dust falls from the picture frame and ends up at the back of the desk.” He explained as he gestured to the picture hanging on the wall above the desk.

"So.. what? A painting is regularly taken off the wall?" Dimmock questioned.
"Sherlock, I really don't get where you're going here?" John admitted, looking up at Sherlock slightly with his brows still furrowed.
“Take the painting off the wall.” Sherlock instructed John as he stepped back, reluctantly pulling his hand away from John’s as he watched him with wide eyes.

John nodded, as he carefully reached over the desk for it and got it off of the wall before giving it to Sherlock.
Sherlock frowned as John passed him the painting but he shook it away, gazing to the wall to reveal a safe in the wall which caused Sherlock to smirk.

“Mm... I amaze myself sometimes.” He smirked as he glanced to John, admiring him for a long moment.
"Brilliant.." John nodded, clearly impressed. A small smile tugging at his features which soon disappeared when Dimmock came and stood next to them.
"Good work.." Dimmock commended, "now, if you both leave we can get a locksmith in immediately and find out what the hell this has all been about.." he spoke, hands on his hips as he grinned triumphantly- as if it was his own work.

Sherlock pulled a face at this before he badges past Dimmock, blue eyes wide as he gazed at the safe. After a few seconds he began to type in the code and magically it clicked open, the detective smirking triumphantly as he opened it, frowning a little as he noticed it full of paper and not even notes at that.

The blogger looked at the paper curiously, still standing where he was. Hearing Dimmock clear his throat,
"Thank you. But that will be all." The Sergeant said, grasping the files before Sherlock could reach or even go to read them, "I'll call you if we have anymore leads." He added rather bluntly, seeming a little standoffish. Gesturing to the door, to the pair.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at this, the detective deducing exactly what those papers are before he out of the blue, took John’s hand, slowly leading him out of the house.
“Come on, John... we know when we are not needed..” he snapped back as he led John out onto the street and away from the crime scene, still holding his hand like it was the norm.