Red (Sherlock BBC)

Case One: Part Two

Silence filled the vehicle while I tried to calm my body. A few moments passed before someone spoke up. "Are you okay?" Glancing to my left, I saw Watson watching me, concerned. Biting my lip, I nodded, not trusting my own voice at the moment.

"They're lying," Sherlock piped up, sending no more than a quick glance my way. Watson furrowed his eyebrows and I shook my head dismissively.

"Look, I'm fine. Just l-leave-" Noticing my stutter, I stopped, internally cussing myself out. Watson and Sherlock both gave me a knowing look- Watson's more concerned whilst Sherlock's was more pointed (his head was facing the front, his eyes narrowed as he looked to me from the corner of his eye). A sigh escaped my lips as I silently admitted defeat. "I'm alright now. Don't worry about it," I resigned, burying my face in my hands. A headache pressed against my temple, no doubt from lack of proper sleep for the past few days. Sherlock doubted my words, I could tell, but he leaned back slightly, expression disinterested.

"Just be able to focus at the scene." Were his only words, to which I didn't reply.

When we pulled up, I could see police tape around the area, sending a wave of anxiety through me. A sigh escaped my lips as I reluctantly followed the two out of the car. Inside, we ducked underneath police tape, following up Sherlock up the steps. I stopped in the doorway of the room, closing my eyes.

I could faintly hear music- a song I didn't recognize. Possibly from the flat. Sherlock's footsteps, followed by John's and Dick's. Again, I could feel, smell, and taste nothing, so with a blink I opened my eyes. The first thing I noticed was a black origami flower, the kind I do not recall. There were books everywhere, in a tidy and organized mess. Clothes lay in a similar manner. I noticed what I believe from where I stood was a suitcase, but I could see nothing else beyond the people piling into the room. Sherlock moved over to the window, and I know he was looking at how many floors up we were. Three, if I counted the stairs correctly.

"Four floors up," I heard Sherlock whisper quietly, a sound I could pick up with clarity. A smile was on his face, supporting my earlier analysis of his addiction to puzzles. "That's why they think they're safe." He moved towards me (more likely the door), growing slightly louder in his ramble. "Put a chain across the door, bolt it shut, think they're impregnable." His voice quieted once more. "They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in."

"The curse of a goldfish," The words escaped my lips of which were smiling along with him. Puzzles were interesting, no doubt, and I hadn't stated his addiction to puzzles was necessarily a bad thing (if I had, that would have been highly hypocritical). He nodded absentmindedly, turning and walking past me and Dick.

"I don't understand." Dick stated, flicking his thumb.

"Dealing with a killer who can climb," I reiterated with a smirk. It was enjoyable to watch Sherlock go nuts over a puzzle- almost rewarding, in some odd way. He deserved it in my opinion, after what happened yesterday with Sebastian. Following shortly behind him, I leaned against the staircase, the other two not too far behind.

"What are you doing?" Dick questioned, and I could hear confusion and concern- not for Sherlock, but for the man's sanity (and his own merit, but that was a detail I tied with the first). Sherlock hopped over to look at the skylight across the stairwell.

"Clings to the walls like an insect." He hits something I could not see from where I stood, and it pops open. "That's how he got in..." He whispered.

"What?" Dick voiced, and I shook my head. Bound not to speak a word, I allotted Sherlock his moment in the spotlight- though I was prepared to step in when I felt appropriate.

"He climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight."

"You're not serious? Like Spider-Man?" Dick was irritated and baffled. A roll of my eyes and I had already given into my sassy nature.