The sky was filled with grey clouds ready to pour a storm from outside a window of the 3rd story of a building. The wind blew forcefully knocking down one of the trash bins situated just below the building.
Outside was nothing but grey and dull colours. The window then began to crack with the wind hitting it.
Claire looked out afraid and unsure. She stared out through the window her green eyes frantically moving from one side to the other as she scans the place.
She was in a room, her hands tied with no doors or anything but a bed. She tries to tug on the cuffs but it was no use. She tries a couple more times until her wrists were in pain. She groans out in pain, heartbeat raising and breath hitching.
She looks out the window one more time, this time to see several dead bodies amongst the dried grass. A man caught her eyes. She stared at the man who stared back at her. The man was tall with big brown eyes and a brunette coloured hair. The man wore a smart suit as he held a gun with his bloody hand.
The man raises his hand and points a gun at Claire.
She immediately panicked only to retrieve her sight and when she liked behind her, she finds Sherlock and John pointing a gun at her.
• • • • end • • • •
'Ah!' Claire screams as she shot up from her sleep. She was then startled by a hand placed on her shoulder.
'Hey! Hey! It's fine! It was just a dream.' A tired voice of John says trying to calm the startled Claire who was breathing heavily. She looks around the flat, still in shock of the dream. She finds Sherlock seated on his chair wearing his nightgown and plucking the strings of his violin one by one, he sat there no words, or any emotions evident in his face. The sunlight was breaking through the thin curtains on the windows, Claire was now beginning to calm down.
'You alright?' John asked, catching Claire's attention. Claire looked at John straight in the eye before answering, 'Y-yeah. What time is it?'
John stands up, satisfied that Claire was just fine, he walks to the kitchen as he poured water into a glass before bringing it back to Claire. 'Half past nine. You slept through the night. I didn't bother to wake you up. You were sound asleep. I came home at twelve.' John explains as Claire accepts the water with him sitting back in his chair.
Claire placed the emptied glass of water onto the coffee table in front of her before noticing the long dark blue coat on her lap; it was Sherlock's. 'Cold night.' Sherlock simply said, still busy with his violin. Claire looks up at him surprised. 'Right.' She answers smoothly blinking faster than normal. John looked between the two as he curled his lips, thoughtful.
'So, were you able to think of something about the case?' John asks releasing some of the thick tension through the air. 'What case?' Sherlock asked rather quickly. 'The case you two were working on yesterday?' John clarified. 'Oh, Lestrade said that he will send some blood samples to the lab and hopefully some botox she could have used. Might probably help us get to the bottom of this string of murders.' Sherlock explained as his voice gradually ceased throughout.
'Oh, well, good. Uh, ahem, will you be going to the lab later on the day?' John asked, reigniting the tension. Sherlock looked at him awkwardly as if he was also feeling the tension. 'Uh, yes indeed. We- uh, we can't lose another minute in this case.' Sherlock answered rather-uncomfortably.
Sherlock then, altered back his attention to his violin and began tuning it. Claire looked at the two before speaking out, 'Well, I better have a shower then.' She said walking to John's chair where her coat hanged. She took her coat before dashing out of the flat without another word.