TO BE FOUND : Book One

Play the Game

Victoria plopped down onto her light blue couch, letting out a sigh of relief, her flat had finally started coming together. After weeks of hard-work, and motivation she had a place to call home. A place that wasn't on Sherlock's sofa. She looked down to her clothes, some wide legged jeans, and a warm sweater. Victoria had wondered around town that day searching for a job, but had no luck. Although she did find a flyer, asking for models, something that had always intrigued her. As a kid she did want to write, but initially she wanted to be an actress or perhaps a model.

Victoria groaned out of pure boredom, peering up at the ceiling and listened to the silence for a moment. She heard that Sherlock had left for Belarus, but she knew he had returned earlier today and she assumed he was up there. He was being far too quiet. The red head looked around her flat, then pushed herself off of her couch with a smile upon her face, she figured it wouldn't hurt to have a visit with the consulting detective.

Before she could make it out of her flat she heard her phone ding, notifying her of a new text.

"Play the Game, dearest Victoria, I love Queen, don't you?"

-M

Victoria rose a brow, glancing around her flat, flinching as she heard two gun shots from upstairs. "No, no, Sherlock!" She panicked, unsure of what was happening. She hadn't received a message from Moriarty in over a week. Without any hesitation or another thought to distract her the woman ran up the steps, ready to take on whoever she needed to. When she ran in she only saw that Sherlock was lazily laid back in his chair, with a gun in his hand and two fresh bullet holes in the wall. The door opened and closed downstairs, Sherlock looked to Victoria and sighed, shooting the wall four more times.

"What the hell are you doing?" John yelled, standing beside Victoria who was no leaning against the door frame with an irritated look on her face.

"Bored." Sherlock muttered, with a deep, tired voice.

Victoria laughed, shaking her head, relieved that he was okay, but John could'n't believe the sight before him, "What?"

"Bored!" The detective springs up from his chair, aiming for the wall, causing the red head and the army doctor to cover their ears. Sherlock fired, "Bored!" Then he fired once more, "Bored!" He continues to glare the smiley face that had been shooting at, allowing John to grasp the weapon and take away from him. Like a father snatching a child's toy that made far too much noise.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." Sherlock run's his fingers over the smiley face.

"So you take it out on the wall then?" John asked.

"Oh, the wall had it coming." Sherlock sighs, falling back rather dramatically onto the couch.

"Uh, didn't you go see about a case today? Belarus?" Victoria asked curiously, sitting in Sherlock's chair.

"Ah, yes, Victoria, Belarus. Open, and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." The detective replied rather snidely.

The woman looked to John and they shared a look for only a moment. "Ah, shame." John said sarcastically, leaving the living room and walking into the kitchen.

Victoria watched the man open the fridge and caught a glimpse of a head, a severed head in the fridge. "Oh f-!" John shut the fridge, opening it again, "It's a head." He closes it, and calls out, "A severed head!"