SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

unravelling plans

The four of them, Sherlock, John, Charlie, and Simon stood at the entrance of Netherlands’s capital, Amsterdam. It wasn’t snowy, or baron like some people would think, but instead painted with gorgeous skyscrapers, illuminating lights from the streets, and pretty little shops lining the rain-glistened roads. It was bleak and chilly, but not much different than the coldest day in London. Sherlock turned to John and smiled. “Thank you for bringing the coat.”

Feeling appreciated, John broke into a somewhat pleased smile. “You’re welcome, Sherlock.”

“You forgot the scarf though,” Sherlock said in a rather bitter tone as he pulled the collar tighter around his neck, making himself look quite pitiful.

John’s brow twitched and he pursed his lips in hopelessness of every pleasing the detective. He glowered at Sherlock from the corner of his eyes and kicked a pebble. Simon, who stood beside him, made his hand a visor and peered out in front of them.

“Oi, fellas, what exactly are we doing here again? Are we just going to stand here?”

Sherlock didn’t reply. In fact, his quiet stature brought his companions to silence as well. The wind whistled and the puddles around them rippled. Sherlock’s mouth moved in a smirk and then fell back to a straight line of seriousness. A tree branch in the distance snapped and the limb clattered on the pavement. The detective’s slender eyes moved thoughtfully across the scenery in front of him, taking in everything and leaving nothing out. In a low voice, he said, “Follow me, stay alert.”

John pulled behind Sherlock and Charlie and Simon fanned out, creating an arrow shape with Sherlock in the lead. As they walked into the city lights, Sherlock looked down and John and grinned, showing only a small section of his white teeth. John’s eyes dropped in front of him. He knew what his friend meant; he just hoped the others knew what to do. They walked for a very long time, neither of them questioning where they were going, but they knew they should be prepared, for they were foreigners on their enemies’ land. Sherlock’s hand slipped into his pocket and stayed there. John casually patted the back of his coat, making sure to feel the outline of his handgun.

Simon had concealed his weapons perfectly under his trench coat, though, he was aware that people would suspect and perhaps pat him down, but he hoped that they would meet their destination before such a moment. Charlie purposely broke off from the group and wandered to a trash bin where he lit his cigarette. Sherlock didn’t have to look behind him to know where Charlie had gone, for he heard his footsteps trail off and then stop about several meters behind them.  The detective stopped before crossing the bridge over a canal and turned to his friends. In a lighthearted voice, he said,

“Lovely evening.”

“Sure is,” John joined in, admiring the sparkling water in front of him. He liked how the neon lights danced over the rippling river.

“Got a copper,” Simon mouthed, lowering his head and pretending to be occupied by the small passenger boats passing by.

“Tourists?” the police officer asked, his hand extending for either license or proof that the four were visiting.

Sherlock smiled and walked up to the officer. He took out his wallet and flashed his identity card. “Sherlock Holmes, I suppose that name is familiar?”

Not very amused, the officer said in a thick accent, “You shouldn’t have come. Your name travels, and they are watching you.”

“Why haven’t you done anything?” John said before breaking into a string of coughs.

“We like our citizens and don’t want to put them into trouble. You should leave, Mr. Holmes, this is your only warning.”

“Do you know where Andrew Brooklyn lives? Only met him once in London, but that was yesterday. I would like to pay him a visit.”