Saving Grace(A Sherlock/BBC Fan-fiction)

Chapter Five: There is no ie

        I sat in Sherlock's chair as the doorbell rang. Sherlock stood in his red dressing gown.

        "Ah yes, what have we got?"

        "Take your dressing gown off!" I called after him. He stopped and turned, pulling it tighter around him before proceeding down the stairs.

~~~

        "My wife seems to be spending a very long time at the office."

        'Boring."Sherlock interrupted.

        "Give me your number, I'll let you know." I told him.

~~~

        Sherlock grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of his chair and sitting down. I perched on the arm of it.

        "I think my husband may be having an affair."

        'Yes."

        "So sorry, dear." I added.

~~~

        "She's not my real aunt. She's been replaced. I know she has. I know human ashes."

        "leave." Sherlock told him.

        "...a sample and we'll have it tested." I finished.

~~~

        "We are prepared to offer any sum of money you care to mention for the recovery of this fine art."

        'Boring."

        "I assure you, I will have it returned to you by the end of the week." I said, flopping back into Sherlock's chair.

~~~

        "We have this website. It explains the true meaning of comic books. Because people miss a lot of the themes."

        'Oh that's cool!" I said. 

        "But then the comic books start coming true."

        'Oh, interesting." Sherlock told them.

~~~

        John typed and Sherlock peered over his shoulder.

        "The Geek Interpreter, what's that?"

        'That's the title." John told him.

        "Why does it need a title?"

        'Because it's a blog. Like the chapters of a book." I explained, lying down so my legs were draped over the arm of the chair.

~~~        

        I stood by Greg while John and Sherlock examined the body.

        "Do people actually read your blog?" Sherlock asked.

        "Where do you think our clients come from?"

        'I have a website."

        'But people don't come to us because your enumeration of two-hundred and forty types of tobacco ash." I told him.

        'Right then, Dyed blonde hair. No obvious cause of death,except for these speckles,what ever they are." Sherlock simply walked out of the room.

~~~

        "Oh for God sake's. 'The Speckled Blonde'?" I sat on the back of John's chair.

        "It's rude to talk with your mouth full." I told him.  He pushed me off of it. "Ow!"