The Side of The Angels (A Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Two: The Curtain Rises

I follow Sherlock, John, and Greg into the flat I had just looked at weeks prior, right to the door with the faded 221C printed on it.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called.

"You know her?" I asked.

"They live here," Greg explained, "221B, just upstairs." 

"So we're neighbors it appears."

"Lestrades, do save the disgustingly domestic bliss for later-MRS. HUDSON!"

"I'm coming, calm down Sherlock." The little old lady said, entering the hallway. "Oh Claudia dear, hello. How are you?"

"I'm lovely-"

"Keys." Sherlock interrupted.

"What are you saying dear-"

"Keys to this flat Mrs. Hudson!" He snapped.

"Alright! I'm going!" She rushed out of the hallway.

"That was rude." I muttered.

"That was polite by his standards." John explained. "He didn't insult her intelligence."

"Lovely." The woman returned, handing him the key. 

"You took a look, didn't you Sherlock? When you first came to see about your flat-"

"The doors been opened recently." Sherlock stated, turning the key.

"No, can't be. That's the only key.  I couldn't get anyone interested in this flat. It was the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements, but we'll have it all fixed up for Claudia here-" Sherlock opened the door and entered the room while Mrs. Hudson carried on talking. That poor woman. I followed them in, shooting her an apologetic smile.  The flat had stains in the carpet, moldy and peeling wallpaper and an old mirror sitting in the corner. In the middle of the room sat a pair of sneakers that were not here only a few weeks ago. Sherlock crept foreword. 

"He's a bomber remember." John told him. I slowly walked around the shoes, crouching down and lying on my stomach on the disgusting carpet. Sherlock did the same on the other side. The phone rang in my pocket, causing me to jump. I stood, tossing the phone to Sherlock, who looked at the screen before tapping on it.

"Hello?" A woman's ragged breathing filled the room.

"H...Hello...sexy." The woman was crying.

"Who's this?" Sherlock asked.

"I've...sent you...a little puzzle...for you and the beautiful  Claudia..." Sherlock looked up at me and my eyes widened. "...just to say hi."

"Who is talking? And why are you crying?" I asked gently, stepping close to Sherlock.

"I...I'm not crying. I'm typing...and this stupid woman is reading it out."

"The curtain rises." Sherlock muttered.

"You've been expecting this." I stated. He nodded.

"Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock and Claudia or I'm going to be so...naughty." The call disconnected.

"What do we do now?" I asked. Sherlock pocketed the phone.

"Claudia..." I guess because whoever this was put me on the same level as Sherlock, that warranted using my first name. "Grab the shoes. We're headed to St. Bart's." Greg handed me a pair of latex gloves and I blew into them, slipping them on and gently picking up the shoes. 

~~~

It was at St. Bart's hospital that Sherlock began running tests on the shoes. I sat on the counter, my feet dangling, with the pink phone in my hand while Sherlock looked into the microscope and John stood by.

"So, who do you suppose it was?" He asked. A mobile beeped and I looked at the phone to see nothing.

"Hmm?" Sherlock grunted.

"Woman on the phone, the crying woman."

"Oh, she doesn't matter, she's just a hostage. No lead there." My head snapped up.

"Just a hostage?" I asked. "How about she's just a living breathing human whose in danger?"

"Neither of you are going to be of much use to her." Sherlock stated, glancing at the computer. I stared at john with my jaw dropped. He shook his head.

"Are they trying to trace it, trace the call?" John asked.

"One was too smart for that." A phone went off again and I glanced at the pink one.

"Oh, for crying out loud whose phone is that?!" I asked.

"Mine, Pass me my phone." Sherlock replied. I got up, looking around.

"Where is it?"

"Jacket." I raised my eyebrows.

"The jacket you're currently wearing?" I asked.

"Obviously." I looked at John who rolled his eyes and I grabbed his jacket, reaching into the inside pocket. "Careful!" I pulled it out and looked at it.

"You've got a text from someone named...Mycroft?"

"Delete it."

"Delete it?" John asked.

"The Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

"Sorry, who is Mycroft?"

"His Brother."

"My Brother." They said together.

"Well, um...your brother Mycroft must think there's something you can do about it. He's texted you eight times, it must be important." I stated.

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" I nodded, understanding.

"Fair enough."

"Sorry, what?" John asked, confused.

"By that statement, I assume that Sherlock means that 'Mycroft' here isn't the type to text when he can talk." I explained. I raised my eyebrows at Sherlock, asking if I was correct. He gave me a curt nod.

"Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: Why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"

"I hardly see how this is delightful." I replied. "It might help to remember that a woman might die?"

"What for? There's Hospitals full of people dying, Claudia, why don't you and John go cry by their bedside? See what good it does then."

"I can't believe you!" I exclaimed.

"Start to, we have to solve this together as per instructions-"

"You said it yourself, it does no good to worry about the hostages so you can stick your instructions, Sherlock Holmes." I walked out into the hallway, brushing past a woman in a lab coat."Sorry, pardon me."

"No, I'm sorry. Oh, you must be Claudia! Greg's sister. I'm Molly Hooper, I work in the morgue." I shook her hand. I looked over her shoulder to see the man she was with was standing with his back facing me. That's a bit strange. "Have you been with Sherlock?"

"Yes, and for the most part, we think alike, but that man is the most un-empathetic man I have ever met in my life." She nodded.

"That's him. You get used to it eventually.  Well, it was nice meeting you!"

"Yeah, you too." She turned, walking in front of the man and I leaned against the wall. I don't understand how intellectually we can be so similar but emotionally we're so completely different...

That's the way of the world I suspect.