The Pilfered Vixen

You Have a Harpoon?

The rest of that day was spent roaming around the flat, writing down everything I would need to invest in. So far the list included kitchen ware, mugs silverware, plates, pots, pans and the like. Then there were towels for the washroom, some new sheets, a new mattress, and by the looks of it, I was going to have to evict some unwanted guests from the premise.

I would also have to call a Plummer, an electrician and someone to take care of the damp. This was defiantly going to take some time, luckily I had been saving up a lot of money for this and when I say a lot, I mean a lot. Of course I was being sent a few of my things from Elton, but most of them were old anyway.

"Right well, time waits for no man." I sighed and began tearing at the horrendous wallpaper.

"Kay, JOHN! I'M GOIN' OUT FOR PAINT!" I shouted as I passed his flat. I stopped when I saw that the door was ajar.

"John?" I called again, peeking inside. No one was in the living room and it looked like no one was in at all.

"I should just go." I whispered to myself, but of course, curiosity got the better of me and I stepped silently inside, leaving the door open behind me.

I stepped around the scattered objects on the ground, careful not to move anything. I could not leave a trace, not one. I had to be the ninja I knew I was. The buffalo with the headphones earned a very strange look from me.

"God." I murmured when I passed the skull. "What the heck goes on in here?"

The kitchen was what really got me. Beakers lay all over the place; chemicals bubbled and discarded body parts lay in the sink.

"Good lord." I muttered, but stopped. "Wait…" I looked back to the still bubbling chemicals. If they were still active then that meant someone was still here. My suspicions were confirmed when I felt cold metal against the back of my neck.

I turned very slowly and came face to face with none other than Sherlock Holmes himself. His face was set in stone but I saw the tip of his eyebrow twitch. Oh he was mad alright. I looked down to the weapon at my throat and saw it was a harpoon.

"You have a harpoon?"

"What are you doing in here?" he hissed.

"Your door was open," I replied coolly. "I thought someone might have broken in."

"No one can break in here." he snarled at me, pressing the harpoon closer. "I suggest you leave. Now."

"Right, first you can put that harpoon down, if you don't mind."

"Out."

"Sherlock, you've left the door open again!" What the hell are you two doing?"

We looked to see John walking in with bags of groceries. He stared at Sherlock with a warning glare.

"She was in our flat, John. Touching things, my things." Sherlock snarled.

"Right, first." John said, putting the bags on a side table and walking towards us. "We do not point the harpoon at family relations."

He lowered the harpoon with his finger, leaving Sherlock to glare at me and stand straight, because God knows he looked like an angry bridge troll before.

"Oh, before I forget, Moira. Here." he handed me a key. "Key to our flat in case of emergencies, but give me a fair bit of warning before you come." he said, nodding towards Sherlock, who looked at us confused.

"Why should she give you warning? I have no issue with it." he sniffed haughtily, dropping the harpoon and sashaying to his violin. He began to play, loud and rather terribly, so I took this as my cue to bow out.