"Sherlock... We've got a case... It's exactly like the others; no sign of forced entry, doors locked, neighbours say they heard yelling from across the hall. They've no clue what's happened." Informed Lestrade's voice through the phone as Sherlock, who looked ecstatic about the case, raced out the door of 221B Baker Street and into the rain sodden streets outside, John Watson following close behind as Sherlock hailed a taxi.
"Whatever this is Sherlock, it's weird." Lestrade finished with a hint of worry in his voice.
"Not to worry Graham, I'm sure I'll be able to sort this mess out. John and I are on our way." Replied Sherlock getting into the taxi with John following suit.
"I'll text you the address. This is something you have to see." Finished the Detective Inspector as Sherlock ended the call with a sigh of excitement.
"We have a case John!" Sherlock blurted out as he clapped his hands, "oh how exciting!"
John just merely stared at the self-proclaimed sociopath.
"Uh, yes, Sherlock, we do... But aren't you worried about the missing detective?" John questioned staring at Sherlcok with a furrowed brow, "I mean, I never got her name or anything but the pretty one with the glasses?"
"Oh you mean detective-" Sherlock was momentarily interrupted as the taxi jolted slightly as it ran over a pot hole, "hmm. Yes, her disappearance is quite odd." Sherlock pondered.
"Maybe she's linked with the cases?" John offered as Sherlock simply grew quiet as he stared out the window, his mind racing and trying to come up with various explanations as to why the bespectacled detective had gone missing; it had been weeks now, seven to be precise without a trace or simple flek to her whereabouts.
John babbled on more throughout the drive, as to what he was talking about, Sherlock had no clue.
The taxi came to a squeaking stop to an old set of apartments, the exterior laced with thick red bricks with small dusty windows. Sherlock stepped out of the taxi, leaving John to pay for the fare and proceeded to the police tape line where he evidently ran into non other than Sally Donovan.
"Hello freak," She not-so-warmingly greeted, "and John."
"Ah Donovan, hello. How's the search going? Any closer to finding the missing detective or have you and the rest of the idiots at Scotland Yard been sitting on your thumbs doing nothing about it; now if you don't mind, let Lestrade know that I'm here." Sherlock butted in, his voice laced thickly with venom, having no patience for Donovans jest at this point in time.
Donovan, and John too, stared at Sherlock in shock, usually they'd expect a full insulting deduction insinuating Donovans affair with Anderson, however, he wasn't having any of it, especially not since John mentioned the plucky young detective* in the taxi.
Donovan only stared flabbergasted, her mouth occasionally opening and closing and she tried desperately hard to find a retort, however, thinking of none, she recomposed herself and called Lestrade on her radio.
"Holmes is here." Donovan stated, her voice wavering slightly, as she continued to stare at Sherlock as he crossed the police line and made his way to the apartment complex. John, offering a small polite smile, followed shortly after.
Strolling into the dark hallway leading to the apartment in question, Sherlock kept his stoic appearance, even when Anderson came out of the room and sneered at Sherlock.
Lestrade was questioning a few of the neighbours as Shelock ducked into the room; observing the black goo like substance splattered on the wall. Raised eyebrow he peered around. The furniture was over turned, obvious signs of a struggle, the window had shattered and there was a very feint trace of blood.
Taking photos and observing everything closer, Sherlock blocked everything out as John stood outside talking to Lestrade.
"Neighbours say they heard a commotion, like someone was fighting. Then the glass shattering and then nothing." Lestrade informed John.
John merely nodded, slightly distracted as he watched Sherlock work.
With a sigh, Sherlock got up, turned to Lestrade and simply stated, "I'll be at the lab looking into this," at this point Sherlock held up a scraping of the black goo, "meanwhile, you have a missing persons case to concern yourself with, Greg." With that said, Sherlock popped his collar, turned on his heels and waltzed out of the apartment. A pang of discomfort sat heavily in his chest.
John and Greg yet again stared after him, Greg rubbed the back of his neck and John said his goodbyes and followed the consulting detective.
[I'm sorry this so long and also for the awkward writing here and there, I was fighting writer's block. Also. Sherlocks chapters are always so short, sorry about that.
HOWEVER!!! READERS DISAPPEARANCE has obviously affected Sherlock in some way.]
[Extra note: I wouldn't be updating in a while. My uncle recently just passed and I need time. Thank you for understanding]
