SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

Always Something Else

Sherlock and John parked their motorcycles in the club lot and rushed to the entrance. They were, however, blocked off by a line of police officers and yellow tape. But that didn't stop the detective.

"Excuse me," Sherlock said loudly, holding his detective badge. "I'm a detective, please, move aside."

A police officer caught Sherlock by the arm and pulled him aside. "What's your name, buddy?"

Without replying, Sherlock showed him his ID. "And my friend is my assistant. We'd like to see the crime scene, please."

"And who are you in contact with?" the officer demanded.

Smiling, the detective answered bluntly, "Just Sherlock Holmes. Would you please let us through? Thank you!" Sherlock squeezed through the swarm of blue uniforms and headed straight to the boudoir John and Alana had been in. With a non-stoppable beat in his pace, Sherlock headed for the room with John trying to keep up behind him.

"Listen, John, I don't know why I feel like this, but I have an acute feeling that things are on the brink of exploding."

"Literally?" John asked, making a few awkward skips to get up beside Sherlock. Looking at his friend's sharp profile, John read the contemplating stretch marks in Sherlock's brow. "What's wrong, Sherlock?"

Stopping just to say his two sentences, Sherlock turned to John and leaned in to whisper. "Rawlings told me everything while you were gone. Things are getting around fast-especially with the instant technology we have. Anyway, he told me everything so that in case something happens to him, I'll be the second to know his whole plan."

"Will you tell me?" John said, trying to contain his urge to beg.

"Obviously, I will. But you can't blog about this, you understand? This is big." Sherlock took in a deep a breath and grinned. "And I'm so excited!" He clapped his hands once and proceeded to the room. Upon entering, his eyes went to the bed, the floor, and then the dresser. Looking over his shoulder at his friend, he said, "So, she hid the message in the drawer, hmmm?"

"She couldn't have exactly slipped it in her...outfit, Sherlock."

Sherlock narrowed one eye. "Wipe that smirk off your face." Returning to the crime scene, Sherlock weaved through the other three investigators and went straight to the bed. Getting onto his knees, Sherlock pulled the satin bed sheet aside and looked under the bed. John joined him. "How interesting."

"What's interesting?" John asked, peeling his eyes for evidence he couldn't see.

"They didn't look under the bed when they searched the room for the message." Sherlock through the bed sheet down and stood up.

"And what does that tell us?" John pulled himself from underneath the bed and stood up as well.

"Nothing. Just that they're idiots and easily distractible. I mean, I would've looked under the bed. Wouldn't you have looked under the bed?"

"Of course, I would've. Probably the first place I'd look."

With his eyes glued on the ground, Sherlock studied the carpet. Before stopping at the drawer, he fell to all fours, bringing everyone's attention in the room to him, and lightly licked the floor.

"Did he just lick the floor?" one investigator asked, his face contorted in disgust.

Rubbing his temple with his finger, John replied, "Yeah, yeah. Don't you lick floors?"

The inspector shrugged. "Sometimes. But...I don't know. He just did it as if-,"

"He was teasing a woman?" John finished. "Ah, yes, Sherlock likes to get intimate with his cases. Disgustingly romantic, isn't it?" He scrunched up his face in a forced smile before returning to whatever he was thinking about.

Sherlock's face wrinkled and he let out a delicate snort, as if he had inhaled something unpleasant. Half to himself, he remarked, "Strange taste and smell. Can't identify it." He passed a hand through his dark curly locks and then drummed his fingers against his lips. Raising an eyebrow, he looked over at John and tossed his head in a 'come hither' manner.

John perked up from his thoughts and hurried over to Sherlock's side. "What's going on?"

"Do you smell something?" Sherlock sniffed the area around the drawer and dotted its surface with his gloved finger. "I would taste it, but the little bit I taste on the floor is giving me a warning."

Smelling the air, John's relaxed face became a pulled one and he shot two frightened eyes at Sherlock. "Would it be in the drawer?"

Placing his hand around the handle, Sherlock cracked open the drawer and peeked in. Snapping his head to his friend, who shared an equally terrified expression, Sherlock ordered, "Everyone, out! Close your eyes!"

"Sherlock, forget about the message-," John demanded, trying to pry his friend's hand from the handle. As the two pushed and pulled against each other, mustard-tinted smog filtered from the drawer and began filling the room.

Looking up towards the door, Sherlock watched as the other inspectors escaped the room and closed the door behind them. They must've forgotten about the two, or they were in fear for their own lives.

"Shut your eyes, John!" Sherlock shoved John's face down to the floor and closed his own eyes. He threw his hand into the drawer and blindly searched for the message inside. His fingers curled around a crunchy envelope and, assuming it was the message as the rest of the material around it were hair accessories, Sherlock pulled it out and grabbed John from the floor. "To the door, John!"

"What about the other investigators?"

"They've gotten out!" Sherlock broke into a violent cough, but didn't keep it from hindering to escape.

When John had found the door knob, he pulled the door open wide enough for the two of them to slip out. Once they had made it to the other side, the doctor slammed it shut and stuffed the towels back underneath the door. Turning to the other inspectors, John shouted in a rasped voice, "Why did you leave us back there? You know what that was?"

The surrounding inspectors stared at the two in honest guilt. The inspector John has spoken to earlier stepped forward.

"We're really sorry, sir. We didn't know what it was and...well, we're sorry. Was that tear gas?"

Sliding to the floor beside the coughing detective, John said breathlessly, "Yes. It was. It was activated when Sherlock pulled the drawer open. Which, I don't know why he did! Especially since he knew what it was!"

"I didn't know what it was, that's why I asked you!" Sherlock growled as he pinched the envelope with his fingers. "Oh, stupid, stupid. The left the envelope behind and-." Sherlock stopped and brought the envelope closer to his eyes. "They took it. The message that is, we just have the empty envelope-but that'll still tell us a lot. Oh, John-,"

"Sherlock?" John addressed in concern. He placed a firm hand on Sherlock's shoulder and looked into his colleague's glazed eyes. "Sherlock?"

The detective laughed softly. He tossed a hopeless hand in the air. "Brilliant. How are we going to get on now with a blind detective?"