SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

So it Begins

On a blazing hot day in Miami, Florida, the door to Room 32 flung open and a soaking wet detective stumbled in. John, who had propped himself on a very large, king-size bed, looked up from the tellie and stared at Sherlock with no surprise in his face.

“Did you go fishing with just your mouth?” John asked, imperturbable to whatever his friend had gotten himself into.

Panting and throwing his shoes off, Sherlock replied, “No! I just came back from interviewing for a temporary job at a steak house. Apparently, you can’t say, ‘see you in a little bit’ to leaving customers, and I was told that I sound awkward on the phone. Tedious!” Sherlock dragged himself over to a bare spot on the hotel room’s floor and descended to his haunches.

Tossing the TV remote aside, John said, “That still doesn’t explain why you’re all wet.”

“Oh, I got hot and stood under one of those water-sprinkle-things.” Tugging at his collar, Sherlock remarked, “The sun is so favorable in July, isn’t it?” He then placed his hands in the prayer position and rested them against his chin. Knitting his brows, he eyed an empty spot on the large bed. “Where’s Alana?”

“Work,” John replied, scooting off the bed and into his slippers.

“You should probably get to where you need to go, as well. I’ll stay here and wait for that Rawlings to return my texts! Such an American!” Sherlock jumped up to his feet and wandered into the bathroom to wring out his clothes in the sink.

Laughing, John called out to him, “You know, you don’t have to blame his nationality for not returning a text. I don’t even return your texts sometimes.”

“You return within fifteen minutes—it’s been two hours!”

“Oh, come off it, Sherlock. He’s a very busy man, and in case you’ve forgotten, he did take us on this case. You should be happy that you’ve got one to play with.”

“What case?” Sherlock said in a sarcastic scoff.

John pulled on his coat, kicked off his slippers, and dabbed on manly ointment. “We’re still in process, Sherlock, don’t get impatient. We don’t always need to be chasing down the baddies or interrogating people to feel like we’re doing something. Sometimes paperwork and patience is necessary. I’ll be out, don’t do anything stupid.” With that, John left the hotel room and shut the door, hoping that Sherlock listened to at least his last words.

Taking a rented car, John climbed into the driver seat and pulled out onto the traffic-laden road of downtown Miami. Shifting gears, John whispered to himself, “I’m on the right side of the road. No biggie, the cars are all where they’re supposed to be. I’m driving on the correct side of the road.” Giving the car gas, John headed off into his desired destination.

With one hand on the wheel, the doctor took in all the bright colors and sunshine. Unlike London, the populated city in Florida was constantly in motion; John loved it. It gave him a sensory overload that made him feel adventurous and tireless. It wasn’t long before he pulled into a parking lot outside of a large white brick building. Looking around his surroundings carefully, John exited the car and hurried inside.

Loud bass music vibrated the floor and swirling colors welcomed John inside. With his hands in his pockets and chewing on his bottom lip, John weaved through the stumbling drunks and indecently cladded waitresses. The large room already made John strip off his outer jacket and loosen his color; the body heat made the temperature almost as unbearable as the air outside.