He always knew love was a weakness, he just didn't think it would be his.
Imogen Hargreaves is a former detective that finds herself walking right back into the life she'd left behind. Not only does drama ensue but she manages to catch the eye of t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Violin music drifts through 221B and I listen to it with my eyes closed, letting my head fall back and sleep tempt me away. Only John smacking my leg as he walks past stops me from giving in. My eyes snap open and I shoot him a glare, shifting in the chair while he only sends me a playful smile.
"Lovely tune, Sherlock, haven't heard that one before." Mrs Hudson comments in passing as she takes our breakfast plates back into the kitchen. I hadn't been particularly hungry but then again I did grab a McDonald's before I came here.
John clears his throat, "You composing?" He asks his friend when the music stops so the consulting detective can jot down the music.
"Helps me to think." Sherlock tells him distractedly. I let my eyes fall on him in his navy robe on top of his shirt and slacks. It's a song he started the last time I was over, a song that starts a little melancholic but still has an air of lightness to it.
"What are you thinking about?" John goes on, taking a small step back when Sherlock points to the laptop screen with his bow. On there is John's blog - the counter still the same as the last time we checked.
"The count on your blog is still stuck at 1,895." Sherlock points out.
John peers round at the screen, "Yes. Faulty - can't seem to fix it." He tuts.
Sherlock shakes his head, pulling a phone from his pocket. Her phone, the one she'd left him that let him know she was dead. I shouldn't let myself feel jealousy at him still having the item, after all it contains national and maybe international secrets, but I can't help it. Even after the other night.
"Faulty or you've been hacked and it's a message." Sherlock suggests, typing the number into the phone. There's a telling buzz to say it's wrong, meaning there's only three attempts left. He scowls at the screen, locking it and slipping it away again. "Just faulty." He grumbles.
John frowns at him, "Right, well I'm going out for a bit." He tells us and I nod as an answer from us both. He walks off to the kitchen and begins to talk to Mrs Hudson so I rise from Sherlock's armchair and stand at his side before he can play again.
"You'll figure it out. Or maybe I will." I tease, happy with the flicker of a smile I get from him. "Any plans tonight?" I ask innocently.
He pauses, looking down at me confused. Had the genius really forgotten?
"It's New Years Eve, you plum." I hit his shoulder lightly. "But I'll take that as a no so you can join us and watch the countdown on telly. Take a night off." I suggest, giving my sweetest smile. It takes a second but there's eventually a crack in his passive expression. That's a yes then.
John calls another goodbye and I wave him off, waiting until he's out of view before throwing myself back down into the armchair. Good luck swatting me awake now, Watson, I think to myself smugly.
