Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 58- Explosive Hide and Seek

Millie's POV

-------------------

I'm sitting cross-legged on the sofa, folded over a magnifying glass, examining the rusty blood stains spattering the pages of a book found on the body of a recent murder case. Lestrade, who's still recovering in hospital, forwarded the case to Sherlock and I on his behalf. 

At the moment, Sherlock is experimenting in the kitchen with the volatile chemical samples found on the site. 

We're not actually supposed to be here.

John's having dinner with a woman he met at work. He told us to make ourselves scarce in the evening, just in case he 'got lucky'. We'd arranged to go over to Emily's apartment, and spend the night there. But she wasn't in, and although we waited in uncomfortable silence for a good hour, she didn't turn up. It was then Sherlock got the call from Lestrade, telling him to go over to his department and examine the evidence left on the homicide scene. Sherlock rifled through the selection of chemicals, bloody books, clothing and weaponry, and said that we should take it back to 221B for further investigation. He said he didn't trust the 'idiots at Scotland Yard to handle such a delicate task'. Really, I think he just wanted something to do. I told him we shouldn't, because of John and his potential girlfriend, but Sherlock just looked at me with a small smile curling the corners of his lips, and said that we'd be packed up and gone before John returned home. 

It's 11 o'clock in the evening.

But we can't stop now, not that we're so close.

Sherlock squints at the test-tube in the light, swirling the contents round and reaching for a pipette across the counter. 

"Found anything?"

"I am about to test for explosive residue. If it's present, I can conclude that the killer was a man named Rob Harding; he's the only one from our suspect list who has the knowledge or access to such chemicals."

"Brilliant."

Sherlock silently acknowledges my compliment with a brief nod of his head- although I can tell he is secretly thrilled at being the first to deduce the killer. There had been a definite sense of competition between us as we analysed through the evening. But I have to hand it to him this time- he's won this round. Sherlock picks up the pipette, lifts it to the test-tube and holds it at arms length-

Suddenly we hear footsteps on the stairs. A woman's voice. A man's voice. John's voice.

I look at Sherlock, dropping the book and panicking. He stares at me, and then at the door. The footsteps are getting closer.

I stand up, look around wildly and see an open door- Sherlock's room.  I grab Sherlock by the wrist and tug him in that direction, hissing-

"We can wait in there- it's the closest to the exit . We can leave unnoticed, when they're distracted. Hurry-"

"The experiment-"

"Come on."

I manually propel him to his room, despite his best efforts and wistful glances at the waiting chemistry equipment and all the answers it provides.

We reach the room and close the door just as the voices enter the apartment; there's a lot of laughing, occasionally interjected with brief moments of impassioned silence. I suppose John did 'get lucky' after all. We wait with baited breath, my ear pressed up against the door listening for confirmation that we can slip out without confrontation. There's another long silence. I'm about to give the signal for us to make our exit, when suddenly there's the slam of a body against the door. I bite back a noise of exclamation, and jump back, confused. At first I think danger, but the noises quickly contradict this, and I realise that they are pressed up against the door, continuing their night of passion.

The door handle turns.

I stand in the darkened room, feeling like a child about to be caught out. I run through all the possibilities in my head, and draw a blank. The door starts to swing open.

I feel a hand close round my arm, and I'm dragged bodily into the closed alcove that's used as a make-shift wardrobe. I'm forced into blazers and jackets and shirts, and I feel Sherlock climb in next to me, closing the doors behind him.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, furiously.

"Hiding us," he whispers back, as if it was acutely obvious. 

"This is ridiculous. We might as well just tell John the truth, apologise, and get out of here."

"No. I want to test the sample for explosives. I just need to get to my equipment. It will only take a second."

"What?! No- come on, let's get this over with-"

But then the high-pitched female giggle cuts me off. I hear John's breathy laugh, and the woman shrieks playfully. There's the noise of clothes hitting the floor. I don't need to look at Sherlock to know that he's pulling a face of genuine repulsion. Are we really going to have to sit through this?

"Hey- my room's just across the landing. Can we continue there?" says John, after a while.

"Hm? What's wrong with this room?"

"It's my flatmate's. He...er.. wouldn't appreciate the intrusion."

"I thought you said you lived alone?"

"Did I?"

"Yes," she laughs. Then- " Fine, we'll go to your room, if it makes you happy."

It evidently does make him happy, judging by the resounding noises.

There's a scuffle, and then the room's quiet.

"Let's go. Forget the experiment."

Sherlock shakes his head. Then he opens the door slowly, looks around, then steps out. He disappears out onto the landing.

I detach myself from the coat hangers, and straighten up out of the cupboard. I close the door behind me softly, and walk in to the kitchen to find Sherlock back at the counter, pipette poised above the test-tube.

"Sherlock, leave it-"

Sherlock just narrows his eyes, ignoring me completely, and pinches the pipette.

The miniature explosion rips through the kitchen, shattering glass and splintering wood. Smoke fills the room, and the sprinklers start up, dousing us both. The smoke-alarm starts too, and the door behind me slams open. Sherlock stands in the middle of the room, hand still holding the pipette, covered in black soot, his shoulders steaming and collar singed. A grin breaks across his face, and he puts the remains of the test-tube on the table-

"Rob Harding. I knew it."

I hear the woman's voice start up, panicked and scared. I hear John pound into the kitchen, shirt half-unbuttoned. He takes in the scene, and his face grows steadily darker. Sherlock blinks, realisation hitting him hard across the face-

"Oh. Hello, John."

"Sherlock bloody Holmes! You prick. Screw Moriarty, I swear to god I will kill you both!"

------------------------