Pressure in my chest was the first thing I noticed, that and the extreme weight in my throat stopping me from coughing. I needed to cough so badly though, I needed to take that first breath, again that pressure butted down against my chest and I finally couldn’t take it any longer, water surged up out of my throat and I my chest expanded, oxygen filling my lungs.
My eyes shot open and I saw Sherlock above me, I coughed again and more water spilled out of my mouth.
“Just try and breathe.” He told me helping me to sit up, I could hear sirens in the distance and my lungs burned as if molten liquid had been poured into them.
“Sherlock, the carpet…” I coughed again as water irritated my throat, “the carpet was his signature.”
“What?!” Sherlock demanded.
“He’s a carpenter, the murderer is a carpenter. That’s why the carpet was replaced,”
“I don’t understand, why is that imperative now?”
“Because,” I urged in a scratchy voice, “How many carpenters in London have blind crossings outside?” Sudden realisation dawned on his face.
“There’s one at the end of Waterloo.”
“He came back and changed the carpet as an excuse to collect something, something that Millie Hartley must have found.”
“Or found out about.” He suggested, “what I don't understand is why he’d risk doing something like changing the carpet?”
“There would have been police around, maybe one or two, if he wanted to retrieve his evidence and plant the bomb then he would have to make some show of actually doing his job.”
Sherlock scoffed as he helped me up.
“And they wouldn't have stopped him, being their intelligent selves.” I nodded and the small crowd that had gathered parted as the paramedics came through to me, before they could touch me though I took a step away.
“Please ma’am,” the one nearest began but I stopped him.
“Please, I don't need your blankets, just get out of the way.”
“Ma’am I'm afraid-” Sherlock stepped in with something in his hand that I didn’t quite see.
“I’m with Scotland Yard, no back off or I’ll have to report you to your superiors for encroaching on a matter of national importance,” He pulled m after him as we strode off towards the end of the bridge.
“Thanks.” I leant over and whispered gratefully and saw his lips curl up into a smirk.
“Thank your uncle,” he briefly showed me the Standard issue Scotland Yard I.D. with my uncle’s name on it and I laughed.
“I guess he’s come in handy for something,” we reached the road and followed it down in silence to where it intersected with Morley Street, it was here that we stopped as I spotted a Blind Crossing.
“Do you reckon it’s around here?” I thought allowed, we climbed over an adjacent fence and snuck around the side of the flat, there wasn’t anyone home though there was a car around the back in the off-street parking.
“We’ll check next door.” Sherlock suggested and we hopped back over the fence onto the main road.
“Sherlock! Evan!” We span and John was jumping out of a taxi. I shudder at the thought of what had happened only a short time ago. John, in his attempt to reach us quickly had forgotten to pay and the Cabbie was yelling at him to get back, once he had paid, he ran over to us.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock Holmes- Meet me on Waterloo (A Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction)
Fanfiction.... in a world where light is so often ignored it often means everything, after all what would life be without light. We would after all be blind.
