Darkness Follows...(BBC Sherlock Fanfiction).

Chapter 5- Did I Just Text A Murderer?

Darcy's POV.

I raised my hand and knocked on the door of 221B Baker Street. Contemplating just turning around and living on the streets rather than face Sherlock Holmes again.

The thought of seeing him made me very angry indeed. How could he leave me like that? I thought he remotely liked me. Perhaps not.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the door opening and an older woman with greying hair, wearing a purple top and a smile on her face, "Hello dear. Can I help you?" She asked politely.

Stressed, Frown Lines: Sherlock. Scratch Card Residue Under Fingernails, So She Uses Scratch Cards. Wedding Band, Not On Left Ring Finger. Married At One Point.

After deducing her, I decided not to bring any of it up. So, I smiled back, "I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes. We were just at a crime scene together."

She looked slightly taken aback but smiled once again nevertheless, "Aren't you a bit young to be wandering about crime scenes?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Mrs...?"

"Hudson." She answered putting her hand out for me to shake, I did so and she pulled me lightly inside. "He's just up there dear." She told me and gestured to the stairs behind her, I nodded and she tottered off to what I assumed was her own flat.

I put my foot on the first step, it creaked. Brilliant. When I try to be sneaky it never works out, no doubt he heard that. I just shrugged it off and continued walking up, not even bothering to be sneaky again.

As I got closer to the door of their flat, I heard the voices of Sherlock and Blondie. "So what's this about- the case?" I heard Blondie ask.

"Her case." Sherlock responded softly. I crept up to the door and stood behind it, waiting for the opportune moment to announce my arrival.

"Her case?" Blondie reiterated.

My moment to appear. I pushed the door open and both their eyes fell on me. I crossed my arms, "Thank you, Mr Holmes for leaving me in a skip."

"Darcy, hello. Yes, John her suitcase, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake." Sherlock stated, not even opening his eyes from where he was laid on the sofa.

So John, that was his name. John Watson.

Sherlock's palms were together under his chin and he had a phone clasped in between them. I rolled my eyes and went to sit on a black leather armchair, "Don't sit there." He said demandingly and I pulled myself up just before my bottom touched the seat.

"Well, where am I supposed to sit?" I queried as John and I stood in the middle of the living room by the coffee table.

"You don't." Sherlock replied and I crossed my arms, leaning to one side.

"You just left me on my own, a minor, in a skip after everything we'd done. Do you not even care at all?" I pressed, my voice raising slightly.

He crinkled his brow and turned his head, actually opening his eyes and looking at me, "Caring is a disadvantage. You're here now anyway, aren't you?"

"Yes but that's-" I began only to get interrupted by Sherlock, "-Good, well then, you can help."

"Help with what?" I asked dryly and I noticed my legs had started to ache. So, I moved over to what looked like a desk in between the black leather armchair and the sofa, I took off my trench coat, and hopped up to sit on the desk. I laid my coat next to me, it was my pride and joy after all.

By this point Sherlock had already leaned his head back onto the cushion and had his eyes closed, John meanwhile was still stood aimlessly in the middle of the room.