Bored (A Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 9

AMELIA'S POV

I woke up early the next day, surprisingly, so I decided to make breakfast for the boys. After slipping on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, I brushed through my hair and put it up in a ponytail. A few minutes later, I was cooking bacon and eggs in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" John asked, stumbling out of the bedroom, still half asleep.

"I'm making breakfast. Something good for a change instead of cereal. Is bacon and eggs okay?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Fine with me," he mumbled, walking into the living room.

"Amelia?" Sherlock asked, walking out of his room. Unlike John, he was wide awake and slightly confused at why I was making breakfast.

"Yeah?" I asked, pulling down the salt and pepper.

"Why are you making breakfast?" He asked, frowning at me. I shrugged.

"I woke up earlier than usual and then decided to make breakfast. I don't know why, I just did," I explained, putting the bacon on a large plate and setting it on the table. I did the same with the eggs before setting down the salt and pepper shakers as well.

"Okay," he said, staring at me strangely before walking into the living room to check on John, who now seemed wide awake at the smell of bacon.

"Breakfast is ready!" I shouted, poking my head in the doorway. "I made bacon and eggs. You guys want any?"

"Sure," John agreed, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a plate.

"No. I'm in the middle of finding a case," Sherlock said, staring at John's laptop, which he "borrowed" from John. He stared at the screen before pulling out his phone, which he grinned at. "Lestrade has a case for us! Three murders! Oh, this is Christmas!" He shouted, running to the door and grabbing his coat. I followed close behind, pulling on my coat, too. "John?"

"Sorry, I have work today. Can I catch up with you later?" John asked sheepishly, walking out of the kitchen. He's lying. He's going to watch a movie with Mary later and doesn't want to be late. After the movie he's going with her to dinner. He wants to impress her. I smiled.

"Okay. See you later, John!" I shouted, walking outside with Sherlock.

Ten minutes later, we were standing at the crime scene with Lestrade. There were two dead men and one dead woman. The men were both 27 and the woman was 26.

"Sherlock," I said, holding up a cell phone that I had found in the woman's pocket. He glanced up and took the phone from me. I continued searching her pockets for more clues while Sherlock messed with the phone.

"So are you a replacement for John?" Lestrade asked, watching us while we were working.

"No," I replied. "John's going to the movies with his wife today before going out to dinner. He's busy. Why would you think that?"

"Well, first of all, you're following Sherlock around and helping him with his cases. The only one insane enough to do that besides you is John," Lestrade explained. He leaned against his police car, typing something on his phone. "You should read John's blog. It's very interesting."

"Does everyone really read that?" I asked, frowning when Lestrade nodded. "Sherlock's is more interesting in my opinion. Two hundred and forty three types of tobacco ash. It's quite fascinating." Sherlock grinned.

"I'm afraid your the only one who thinks that," Sherlock said, looking up at me from the phone. I smirked before returning to my work. Bruising around the neck, some blood from a cut on the lip, and a black eye. Was probably strangled to death, but shows signs of fighting back.

"Lestrade, what did you say was the reason of death for this one?" I asked.

"Suicide. We found her hanging from the fan," he said, pointing to the fan on the ceiling.

"Lestrade. If it was suicide, then why are there two extra bodies?" I frowned, looking around the room. "And when you hang yourself, you put the noose around your neck before tying it to the fan. Then you jump off of a platform. Where would she jump off of? There isn't anything in reach of the fan."

Lestrade frowned, looking around the room before looking back at me.

"What's the cause then?"

"She was strangled by someone, but she was also fighting back. See the bruising around the neck. It's the only fatal wound on her. And besides, you can't get a black eye by hanging yourself," I concluded, moving to the next body. "All of them were strangled to death."

"But by whom?" Lestrade pondered, walking over to one of the bodies and leaning down. "And why?"

"That's what we're going to find out," Sherlock said, walking out of the room. I got up quickly, racing out of the door to catch up with him.