elysium ≫ wholock [[ON HOLD]]

i ➳ light

"C'mon, Sherlock, I'm on my knees," Greg Lestrade said through the phone. He was pacing around his office, fidgety. Sherlock Holmes was his last chance to getting anywhere on his current case.

Sherlock Holmes blew a long breath straight into the microphone. "Fine. Considering this is the third time you've called in the past hour. This better not be another petty case, Lestrade." He sat up from his laying position on the leather couch in his shared flat, moving across the room to pull on his long, black trench coat and tie on his dark blue scarf.

"Was that Greg again?" John Watson asked, walking into the flat from the stairs, grocery bag in hand.

Sherlock pulled a face. "Who?"

John sighed. "Lestrade. Did Lestrade call?"

"Yes, fourth time. We've got a cab to catch," Sherlock said, waving a hand towards the slightly blood-stained kitchen table. He had been up late the previous night, performing one of his infamous experiments. "Leave those there, Mrs. Hudson will tend to them eventually."

Upon hearing Sherlock's remark, from the bottom of the stairs, said landlady called up, "I am not your maid!" She proceeded upstairs, anyway, brushing shoulders with both Sherlock and John. She shook her head at the pair as they exited. "Shame they haven't gotten further with that relationship of theirs. They work so well together..." Mrs. Hudson muttered, pushing her way into John and Sherlock's flat.

She sighed at the state of the kitchen table. Always gets blood on it. He can't keep away from it, she thought of Sherlock. After packing the groceries in the fridge, which luckily did not contain a severed head this time, she scrubbed away at the stains. After a few minutes, the table was free of anything other than food crumbs.

+++++

"Finally!" Lestrade nearly shouted with relief as the detective-doctor duo walked into his office. Sherlock promptly sank into one of the chairs. "Took you long enough."

"Well, it is rush hour, so obviously traffic was hell. I took this into consideration, but the cabbie didn't seem interested in taking a route different than the one he had planned," Sherlock said tartly. He leaned back in the chair, resting his arms on the sides as John took the second seat.

"So? What've you got for us this time?" John asked, unable to hide the hint of excitement in his voice. He could never comprehend how Sherlock was able to get bored of cases. But, then again, Sherlock was the one who shot their walls when he had gotten bored in the flat.

Lestrade's mouth formed a thin line. He sat in his own desk chair, reaching into a drawer to pull out a small flash drive. He plugged it into his computer, avoiding eye contact with either of the men across from him as it loaded. Soon, white noise began streaming from the speakers.

Sherlock opened his mouth, only able to get out the single syllable 'wha'before Lestrade put up a hand. Lestrade turned his computer so that the speakers were facing Sherlock and John. Met with a perplexed look from both of them, Lestrade closed his eyes and nodded his head towards the computer in a silent gesture. Wait for it.

The white noise became muddled with shuffling. Then, it cut out all together as a woman's voice took over.

"Oh, my God. He's gone. What the hell, he's just gone! The light...ohmyGodohmyGod it's the light! The light's got him! It took him - the light took Harry! Shit, shit, shit! SHIT! ... Oh, my God." More shuffling ensued. Sherlock guessed the woman was going closer to this 'light'. "Harry? Harry, are you still - Harry, I'm coming, too. We'll be together soon. Don't worry, I know how you panic. Oh, Harry - it'll be like how we wanted. Together for forever...in Elysium."