Darkness Follows...(BBC Sherlock Fanfiction).

Chapter 32- Must Be A Root Canal...

A/N- Updated finally! My personal goal to update on alternate weeks for each story may have gone slightly array >-<

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Darcy's POV. 

"Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid- champion swimmer- came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident." Sherlock told us as we sat in the back of a cab on our way back to Baker Street.

I finished searching up what Sherlock had told me to on his phone and showed them a newspaper article about the incident, "Here it is, look." John frowned.

"You wouldn't remember it. Why should you?" Sherlock added and I turned the phone back to me, skim reading the article and then locking the phone before holding it out to my left where he was sat.

He took the phone from me as John said, "But you remember."

"Yes." He answered and I glanced between them both from my seat in the middle, my bag at my feet.

"And you think something's iffy about it?" I stated and Sherlock half-smiled.

"Nobody thought so Darcy- nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers." He announced and I smirked, guess we were more alike than I first thought.

John chuckled slightly, "Started young, didn't you?"

"What am I? A potato?" I laughed and turned to smile at him cheekily.

"Although I was even younger than you are." Sherlock countered and I rolled my eyes as he added, "The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head."

I frowned, "What?"

"His shoes." He replied and I bit my lip in thought.

"What about them?" John asked.

Sherlock leant forward, "They weren't there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested-"

"Sounds like something you'd do." I interrupted with a smile on my face and he shook his head.

"-but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes..." He continued and leant down to pick the evidence bag up from the floor.

I stared at the only link to the case we had and sighed in realisation, "Until now."

Sherlock just stared at the bag in his hands and then down at me questioningly, I shrugged slightly but nodded.

This seemed important and as much as I knew I had to leave, I needed to help.

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As soon as we got back to Baker Street Sherlock shut himself away in the kitchen and left me in the living room with John. I was sat on the sofa, my leg bouncing up and down as John paced back and forth.

"Would you stop? You're making me nervous." I exclaimed and he stopped briefly to look at me in exasperation before continuing.

"You're nervous? There's a woman strapped to a bomb god knows where and nothing we can do." He retorted angrily.

I stood sharply and walked towards the kitchen shooting him a glare as I past him, slowly I opened the divide between the two rooms and slipped into the kitchen area, "How goes the search?" I asked Sherlock who had surrounded himself with printouts of newspaper articles relating to the case.