You're An Idiot, Sherlock Holmes (OC x Sherlock)

Ten Outta Ten

"It's just an estate agent's photo and . . . pips," I say, bewildered. Sherlock slowly looks up into the distance.

"It's a warning," he says softly. 

"Didn't some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds and . . . orange seeds? Five pips?" I say, putting a hand on Sherlock's arm. 

"Precisely. They're warning us that it's going to happen again." Sherlock starts walking out of Lestrade's office. "And I've seen this place before," he adds, waving the phone in the air. 

"Hang on," Lestrade stammers. "What's gonna happen again?"

I quickly follow Sherlock behind. "boom!" he exclaims, dramatically throwing his hands in the air. He grabs my hand and we walk faster as Donovan eyes the motion as we leave.

~

I avoid dropping the keys as I unlock the flat, with Lestrade waiting impatiently for me to open the door. The three of us head straight to where 221C is.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock calls out. Mrs. Hudson opens her door as we stand in front of a door under the stairs. 

"You had a look, didn't you Sherlock," she says as Sherlock takes her keys from her. "When you first came to see about your flat?" 

"The door's been opened recently," he states, unlocking the door. 

"No, can't be. That's the only key. I can't get anyone interested in this flat," she says to me, trying to make small talk. "It's the damp, I expect . . . that's the curses of basements." I nod politely, not really listening to her talk as Sherlock unlocks the second lock to the door. 

"I'd a place once when I was first married," she continues. Sherlock opens the door and him, me, and Lestrade walk into the basement flat. 

We're led down a hallway, where a single door stands and Sherlock opens it slowly, the sound of nothing but creaking in the room. The door opens up to the room we saw in the picture, only this time, there's a pair of shoes in the middle. 

Sherlock starts to walk toward the shoes before I put a hand in front of him. "He's a bomber, remember that," I say softly. He continues taking slow steps to the shoes and kneels down to get a better look at them. From where I was standing, I couldn't see anything in the shoes that could potentially go off, though I still wanted to be cautious. 

He gets on his hands and knees and lowers himself before tensing up when the pink phone in his coat pocket starts ringing. He stands up, pulls out the phone, and the three of us exchange looks as I take a deep breath.

"It's a blocked number," Sherlock says before answering it. "Hello?" he asks softly.

What seems to be a woman sobbing comes from the other end. "H-hello . . . sexy," the shaky voice says, definitely a woman's. I raise a brow.

"Who is this?"

"I-I've sent you a little . . . puzzle . . . just to say hi." I look down at the shoes again.

"Who's talking, why are you crying?" Sherlock asks the woman before looking back at me. 

"I'm not crying," she answers, obviously crying. "I'm typing . . . And this stupid bitch is reading it out."

"The curtain rises," Sherlock states, looking up. 

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"What did you mean."

"I've been expecting this for some time." 

"Twelve . . .  hours to solve . . . my puzzle . . . Sherlock . . . or I'm going to be so . . . naughty." The woman hangs up and Sherlock looks down at the shoes.