Inconsistencies In Sentiments

Chapter 1

She turned around to reveal a pair of glistening (E/C) eyes. He gripped the gun harder as she playfully raised her hands up. 'Woah, Sherly. You're getting impulsive.'

'You knew!' He shouted. 'You knew where he was and you didn't say anything.' The woman placed the violin and bow on Sherlock's leathery chair, mumbling something under her breath. It was unclear but the word that they both could hear wasn't a word but a name.

Mike.

'Mycroft. Of course.' He scoffed out.

'I'm surprised it took you so long to deduce that.'

John stepped in between them. 'Ok, I've had enough banter for one day. Sherlock, who is she?' The anger stayed in his eyes as he ignored his question.

'Anyway, Mrs. Hudson made tea and I do not intend to let it go to waste.' Sherlock and John (and the gun) followed her to the kitchen where she poured three cups of earl grey. 'Go on, drink up.'

He narrowed his eyes at the small teacup, looked at John who was cautiously sipping tea and then at her. She had her eyes closed as she sipped the teacup slowly. He reluctantly took the teacup in hand and sniffed it. 'I didn't poison it. Do you always suspect your tea is poisoned?'

'Yeah, pretty much.' John mumbled under his breath. He scoffed at the doctor's sarcasm and drank it clean. 'I'm guessing Mycroft sent you here.'

'Why don't you use that little mind palace of yours to figure it out?' He was. He just couldn't get anything if her. He looked at John to get rid of the possibility that looking at the women in front of him broke.... something. Fortunately, that wasn't the case.

'Just tell me.'

'I'll tell you when you're awake. Promise.'

She said one last thing he heard before they blacked out.

'Sleep tight.'

🔱

John's eyes flung his eyes open to find himself snuggled in Sherlock's chest. His reflexes got him to sit upright as fast as he could as he tried to recall the events prior. Ok, This girl playing violin. (Y/N) I think. Something about tea. Sherlock had a gun... Wait. He pawed his pockets and slid opened the bedside table drawer.

He interrupted Sherlock's slumber by violently shaking him side to side. 'Sherlock!' He got on top of the highly functioning sociopath who still peacefully slumbered despite the fact John could have broken something. He gave him a good hard slap in the face and exclaimed again. 'Sherlock!'

The detective stirred from his nap and stared at him with tired eyes. 'What?' The sleepiness still lingered in his voice. 'Where's my gun?' He laid back down and closed his eyes. 'What gun?'

'The gun you took from my hand. Where is it?' Sherlock got up, letting John fall off the bed.

'I'll get you a new one. Right now, we need to focus on where (Y/N) is.' He fast walked out of the bedroom, leaving him on the floor with utter confusion and a sore rear end.

'Get me a new on- Sherlock, Lestrade gave me that gun. Hey, how the hell are you going to get a Glock 17?' The buzz for a text notification went off in Sherlock's pocket.

'Speaking of Lestrade, he has a new case for us.' He began to approach the door only to be stopped by Mrs. Hudson.

'Sherlock! Where are you going?'

'We have a case. Don't bothering waiting for us.' He called back as he raced downstairs, John close behind.

'I don't even do that!'