The Ballad of Mona Lisa

Chapter 3- An Anonymous Note

Lestrade stumbled into the room to find Sherlock staring out the window. There was glass everywhere. There were several people trying to crowd in behind Lestrade in the hallway. Sherlock made no move to show he knew anyone had come in. He was lost in thought.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade nearly shouted. Suddenly Sherlock turned on his heel and brushed past the people in the doorway.

"4 ideas," he muttered to Lestrade on his way out. Before anyone could react, Sherlock had run down the stairs, out of the house, hailed a cab, and was on his way home. When he was in the cab, he texted Lestrade:
Send the bullet to the lab.

He got home and ran inside, slamming the apartment door behind him. He made it three steps past the door before he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a different smell in the room. He knew that smell.

Secret Wonderland.

He slowly walked into the living room, immediately noticing an envelope on his chair. He sniffed the back of his chair.

Everlasting Sunshine.

She'd been here; sat in his chair. He finally picked up the envelope. His name was scrawled across the front in flawless cursive.

Sherlock Holmes

He quickly ripped it open and pulled out a piece of paper folded neatly in thirds. He dropped the envelope back onto his chair and walked over to the one window in the room as he unfolded the paper. That's the problem with this room, he thought, only one window. He glanced out the window before reading the words on the paper in his hands.

Sherlock Holmes,

I'm sure you are well aware of the recent thefts in London, seeing as you almost got shot at one of the theft sights only a moment ago. Sorry about that, dear, but I had to send a message. You're getting too close. That is completely unacceptable. If you do not stop investigating, then I warn you, there will be consequences. I'm on a mission, and not even the Great Sherlock Holmes is going to stop me. Don't be stupid, for your sake.

~Mona Lisa

It was scrawled across the paper in the same perfect cursive as his name on the envelope. He stared at it, read it again, and thought about who could've written it. Slowly, a smirk crept onto his lips.

Oh what fun this will be. Finally! A real challenge, and I've got nothing to lose.

Sherlock folded the paper back in thirds as he walked back to his chair, slid the paper in the envelope, and walked into his room. He placed the envelope in the drawer of his bedside table and returned to the living room. He sat down in his chair and took a deep breath. The two smells left behind by the woman combined into a new scent. It was strange, but Sherlock found himself enjoying it. He didn't know what to call it...

Secret Sunshine.

That sounded right. A fitting description indeed, he thought to himself. He let out half of a chuckle and pulled his phone from his pocket. He had a message from Lestrade: Bullet at lab

He practically leaped from his chair and ran back out the door, slamming it behind him again. He hailed a cab and made his way to the lab, thoroughly excited. When he reached St. Bart's he hurried inside. Lestrade was waiting for Sherlock, the bullet on the nearest countertop. Sherlock went straight to the bullet and ignored the older man completely. Sherlock was careful not to touch the bullet directly just in case there were prints on it, or something. He slid the rubber lab gloves on his hands and carefully picked up the bullet.

"Found that in the wall. 'Bout where your head should've been." Sherlock ignored the man again and slid the bullet under the magnifying glass.

"Sherlock. This is serious. They were aiming to kill. Sherlock? Are you even listening to me?!" Lestrade was half-yelling. He'd never admit it, but he was concerned about Sherlock. Sherlock sighed, sitting up straight and turning to Lestrade.

"Yes, I can hear you, but your useless yammering is getting us nowhere, is it? I am perfectly aware that this is serious, and your talking is merely distracting me from my work. I suggest you either shut up, or leave," Sherlock's voice was curt and his words were sharp and short. He abruptly turned back to his work. Lestrade stood with his mouth slightly open. He closed it and turned to the door. He looked at Sherlock once more before leaving swiftly.

Sherlock didn't even notice.