Play the Game - Sherlock fanfic (Sequel to Painting Murders)

Early Morning Deductions

I snapped my head off the table when something landed forcefully in front of me. I groggily eyed up the tall coffee cup and the Egg McMuffin that had appered there.

"Wakey Wakey, rise and shine!" Bailey chirped as he slid into his seat opposite me.

Dazed and shielding my eyes from the sun that now streamed in though the window next to me, I sat up and yawned, stretching my stiff limbs.

"What time is it?" I croaked before coughing.

Bailey looked at his watch with strained eyes. The bags that resided under them were as blue as the night sky and his hair was sticking shortly up in every direction as if he'd been racking his hands thought it all night. Which he probably had.

"Quarter past eight, why?"

"Seriously!" I shot up, suddenly fully awake, "That late?"

He chuckled then yawned, "Well you have been asleep. But don't worry I managed all by myself!" He gestured to the laptop which was now closed over and packed into his backpack on the table.

"And?" I asked, eating the McMuffin messily, wishing I had a napkin and taking a sip from the coffee cup before gagging to try and rid the taste from my mouth.

"Ugh! Bailey, I don't drink coffee!" I exclaimed.

He gave me a desperate look, "Well you drink that crap with the hot chocolate in so I thought you might drink regular coffee like a normal person as well!" He said defensively before taking the cup and drinking the lot in a few mouthfuls.

He fished a warm bottle of water out of his bag and handed it to me before sliding a folded slip of paper over the table.

I looked up at him as he stood up, "Are you leaving?"

He nodded, "I have collage. Also I don't want to be around when someone questions how you illegally obtained that address. I was never here."

I understood and nodded, "Thank you Bailey."

He mirrored the head nod and and pursed his lips, "I hope you find what you're looking for." He gestured to the paper then turned but stopped as if remembering something.

He fished around in his pocket before turning back to me and gesturing for me to hold my hand out. I did and he placed something there.

I looked at him, unamused, "Really Bailey?"

"It's for good luck." He protested. I looked back at the small rubber duck on the keyring that Bailey had just passed me. I'd bought him the rubber duck after he had lent me 'The Pragmatic Programmer' - a book where the main character carried around a rubber duck to talk to if he ever encountered a problem when programming his software. The theory behind it was that by explaining the software to the duck, a person could notice floors or overcome problems in the system.

I'd just thought it was funny so when giving Bailey the book back I'd bought him the little duck.

Now looking at the yellow duck in my palm I could see how it may come in handy - even if it was just for luck.

"Thanks." I whispered then watched him trudge out of the building before merging with the crowds, heading to the station.

I grabbed the paper and unfolded it. True to his word Bailey had jotted down an address: 19 Coombs Street, London.

I opened my backpack and grabbed my phone.

Lestrade picked up on the third ring, "Everly? Are you okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine." I answered, picking at the corner of the paper, "Can I ask a favour? Sherlock is working on a case and I think I've just had a breakthrough in finding a lead, but we'll need a scary police officer there when we confront him. Can you come with us?" I asked, tapping the table and listening to him on the other end as he shuffled papers or, more likely, took his feet from off his desk.