SHERLOCK {BBC Sherlock Fanfiction}

A Study In Pink- C3: Pursuit

Jennifer's Pov-

It took us a little while to get back to Baker Street but as soon as we pulled up I dashed straight out of the car, my emotions had just been all over the place at the moment and that whole fiasco didn't help at all!

I slipped my pristine, silver key into the lock and opened up the door on one swift movement. John and I walked up the stairs and into the flat to find Sherlock led on his back on the sofa. He was holding his left arm with his right palm. He had his eyes closed, was he asleep?

I walked closer to him to inspect further.

"Sherlock?" I called.

His eyes opened slowly as he clenched his left hand and relaxed as he breathed deeply in relief.

"What're you doing?" John asked him.

"Nicotine patch, helps me to think." He informed us as he lifted up his arm to reveal a grand total of three, round nicotine patches stuck on his arm.

"You've seriously got three patches on?" I asked him in disbelief.

"It's a three patch problem." He stated.

"Well then?" I asked.

"What?" He responded.

"You asked us to come?" I reminded him.

"Oh, yes. I want you to send a text." He informed me.

"You! Hold on, just, you brought me here to send a text for you?" I stated in disbelief.

"Yes, don't want to use my phone, there's always a chance that my number can be recognised, it's on the website." He told me.

"We were on the other side of London!" I raised my voice.

"There was no hurry." He stated as he sat up on the sofa.

"Well it seemed pretty important, you kept texting me every two seconds!" I exclaimed.

"So what was all that about her case then?" John enquired.

"Her case." He whispered lightly.

"Yes, you know that case that you ran off to find and left us behind!" John raised his voice.

"Her suitcase, yes, the murderer took her suitcase. That was his first big mistake." Sherlock informed us.

"So what? He took her case, what does that matter?" I asked him.

"It's no use, there's no other way, we'll have to risk it!" He stated, ignoring my earlier response.

"What are you even talking about?" I questioned.

"There's a number on the table, I want you to send that text for me." He pointed to the table.

"Fine!" I accepted and walked over to the table.

Whilst I was typing in the number into my phone, I noticed my hands still trembling, I tried to control it as best as I could because it was making it evidently difficult for me to type.

"What's wrong?" He asked me with a concerned look on his face.

"We just met a friend of yours." John told him, as I continued typing in the number.

"A friend?" He questioned.

"Well an enemy." I stated, as I finished typing the number into my phone and got ready to type the text.

"Oh, which one?" He enquired.

"Your arch-enemy he said." John told him.

"Oh, did he offer you money to spy on me?" He questioned us.