Chapter 27 - fite mich

17 0 0
                                    

im writing instead of revising, this is highkey what year8 me saw me doing when i thought about gcse and i am disappointed in myself oh god.

also do you guys like

remember

what shit ive already written. 

becasue i dont, and it cant be that memorable, and if none of you guys remember then all my subtleties are fucking pointless.

i too am surprised that i am still bothering with subtleties like this is a damn detective novel dear god we bypassed that many chapters ago

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

Chapter 27

John's POV

We hadnt found anything to do with after about three hours there, so we took note of the CCTV cameras that we could see and gave in. After a quick stop for lunch, we decided to return to scouting out the industrial address.

 It was a fairly dreary place, not helped really by the shitty weather. Can't beat shitty weather can you? Also greyhounds and whippets in the rain are super cute like they hate it but its really funny becasue they just dont quite get it and theyre like :?

We reached the warehouse. A rusty makeshift corrugated steel door was our only obstacle. There were no windows so it was impossible to identify the outside, but where the roof had broken away to the elemnets meant that scare beams of light were fighting their way through the dust to the concrete floor.

The air had a stale smell, like a locker room that had been left half cleaned; a mixture of dirt and sweat, but also disinfectant and chlorine.

Steadily, we searched the warehouse. It was obviously abandoned, save for a rotten table in the middle accompanied by a battered plastic school chair.

There was a knife on the table, which, unsurprisingly, Sherlock pocketed immediately. He continued to investigate the table, whilst i moved towards the walls. There was a disused pipe near the corner, rotten and rusted. As i got closer i realised that it had been literally torn through, like someone had pulled a wire through it. The ground nearby was darker, and i recognised it as blood. As i was about to call sherlock over, my phone buzzed. Get back to school rn. From wendy.

I acknowledged it but knew that i wasnt going to be able to get sherlock to leave without a further lead so i beckoned him over.

"Do you think someone was tied up here?" I suggested. He squatted down and checked the broken iron. 

"Quite possibly. the amount of blood is characteristic, so-"

He was interrupted by my ringtone. I didnt answer. "Wendy said to get back to school. Seems kinda urgent. You happy to leave?"

SHerlock grimaced but followed me as we walked out of the warehouse, as sneakily as we could in broad daylight.


it was a short taxi ride back to baskerville, and wendy met us at the front gate.

She'd obviously run to meet us at the bottom of the long driveway up to the school, her hair was tied up, although like usual, small wispy strands had fallen from the sides where it was too short for the pony tail, or more likely too damn silky. silky hair.

"laura's back." She said, almost successfully hiding that she was out of breath.

Sherlock pricked his ears up at this, and at his usual pace, (which is at default, really fucking fast and long strides like genuinely what the fuck is wrong with tall people why do they walk so goddamn fast fuck you tall people you need to be more considerate of slow walkers and people with short legs), strode off up the drive, with wendy and i trailing behind.


The Worshippers - TeenlockWhere stories live. Discover now