So, here I am. Twelve years later. I moved back to London when I was nineteen, I celebrated my 25th birthday a few months ago, and am now one of the best detectives on the police force. And God damn am I bored. Nothing has happened in months. Everything is just too simple for my department, so I've been spending a lot of time, alone in my apartment. I still wear that necklace to this day, even though I barely remember what he looks like.
I was sitting on my couch, just scrolling down Tumblr, when I got a call. And of course it was my boss.
(Or else there wouldn't be a story. :p)
I picked up ,not expecting much, but then found out that there had been a murder not far from where I was. There was apparently a message graffiti on a wall on the scene of the crime that said, "Send your best, you won't find me."
So I changed into a button down white shirt, black skinny jeans, blue converse high tops, and a black hoodie. Yeah, not professional, but comfortable, and my boss doesn't care how I dress, as long as I solve the case.
I walked out of my flat, hands in my pockets, and started walking.
I could see the flashing lights from here. So I speed up slightly.
I ducked under the yellow tape, and walked over to my boss. He was a tall threatening looking man, but he was really a nice guy.
"So," I said, "what do we have here?"
"What we think we have, is some lunatic killing his wife, and just thinking he's so smart."
"Then why'd you bring me in?" I asked.
"Because I know we have something bigger." He turned to me. "We're dealing with someone much... Much... Bigger."
"How big are we talking here?" I asked.
"A criminal who we all thought was dead... He's back."
I sighed, already knowing who he was talking about. "That's not possible. He shot himself. He's dead." And I started walking away.
"Someone else died that day." He called.
I stopped, suddenly feeling the cold of the necklace against my chest. How did he always know exactly what to say? "I can't take this case."
"And why can't you?"
"You know damn well why..."
The man he was talking about, had killed my mother three years back. I knew I couldn't take this case because it would turn to personal, I would be jeopardizing everything.
"You won't be doing this alone. Lestrade is sending in his... Experts, on him."
"Who?" I asked, knowing the answer already.
"Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson." He waited, but I didn't respond. "You're the only one I know who can take this case."
I sighed. "I don't have a choice do I?"
He chuckled. "Nope. You start tomorrow, back here, 9 AM. You'll do fine."
I took one last look at the graffiti, touched my necklace, and walked away. I was mentally preparing for what was going to happen tomorrow.
Hey guys!!!! I'm finally back. God it's been a long time. Sorry this is so short, but with writers block, insomnia, a fuck load of work from school, and just a self doubt that any of this is good, I really don't have an excuse. Hope you like it! Sorry it's been such a long wait, and sorry it's so short. But hey! Better late than never right!
Thanks for all the support, and almost 100 views!
Love you guys!
~Cas
