Secrets [Johnlock]

6: Replications

The pair looked everywhere, using the fact that there were two of them to their advantage. They found it in under a minute, in a cupboard, and opened up the note, reading it together. Next, a key, hidden in "the place of the devil". Since there were electric candles and a medieval witch bible (thank God John knew Latin) on a small table, they decided to look there. Sherlock then realised where it was- inside a candle. He pulled it out and read that a code needed cracking in order to find the combination for the safe. However, the riddle containing the answers were locked away in a... book?

The consulting detective deduced that this was a diary, launching himself to the armchair and picking it up. He flicked through to the only page with writing and there was a lengthy poem written in a cursive font. For this, he needed John's help and rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder as they tried to decipher the clues. His blood was racing, feeling ever closer to completing the challenge.

"Um, he's dead, Sherlock. What does this mean?"

"The plot thickens..." he whispered, scanning the note again. "We need to find him."

They looked around for any place a person could fit, but nothing was suitable. There was a wardrobe, though this was empty except for a screw. There was nothing under the tables, or behind the door, or in a wooden chest. Sherlock was becoming more eager, the confusion spurring him on. He even undid his scarf, thrusting it towards John before tapping on the walls.

The smaller man held the blue fabric in his hands, folding it into a neat square and feeling its softness. He left the detective to explore further, trying not to help too much. He needed to solve the mystery himself, and then he could be satisfied with the result.

"Are you sure it's a person?" John enquired.

"Yes. In here. Somewhere." He muttered, rapidly feeling for any changes in the wall's density. "Oh!"

He rushed back over to the entrance door, bending down to a sort of press-up position. Naturally, this caused his boyfriend to stand and admire the sight.

This was only short lived, however, as Sherlock then moved to bend down in front of one of the floorboards, pressing on the corners.

"Pass me a pen."

The blogger rushed to find a biro, handing it over with a small smile. This wasn't noticed and the lid was swiftly removed, carefully slotted down the side. He prised it off, tossing it in front. As expected, a (fake) skeleton lay buried underneath, a box being used as a pillow for the cranium.

"Fantastic..." John whispered, absent-minded.

Sherlock's lips formed a subtle smirk, his cheeks acquiring a rosy tint. He shook this off, grabbing the box and peering inside. He read the cypher, trying to reveal the true meaning. Little hums of thought were let out, though he didn't realise this. John watched the man, feeling so lucky to be able to hear this. He'd never reveal this aloud, but his heart fluttered when he heard these cute sounds.

"Top of the wardrobe."

They couldn't reach this, and the chair looked to rickety to support either person's weight. Only a look was shared and they had devised a plan, no need for words.

"You or me?" John asked.

"You're stronger. Me."

John knelt onto one knee, making sure he was steady before tapping his thigh. Sherlock then stood on it, looking for the envelope and snatching it. He jumped off his boyfriend, ripping it open and peering inside. There it was.

Two keys and a note.

"One sets off the alarm, the other unlocks the door. Choose wisely."

The taller man peered into the keyhole, measuring the gap and analysing its shape. He then did the same with the keys, quickly realising which key was correct. He unlocked the door, the bright lights blinding them. The two ladies were stood outside, clapping the pair on their way out.

"Congratulations! You've beaten our best time!"

"How long were we?" Sherlock asked, checking the current leaderboard.

"Eighteen minutes and seven seconds!" She announced, eyebrows raised.

"Well done, Sherlock." John beamed, still stood next to him and resisting the urge to hug him.

"Thank you, John."

"And," she continued, rushing over to the 'gift shop' corner. "You get a pencil!"

She presented the shiny, rainbow pencil to him, the escape room's address on the side at the top. He took it reluctantly, discreetly looking at John for the appropriate reply.

"Thank you." John inputted, shaking the lady's hand.

~

"Oh, you were amazing, Sherlock." John repeated as they made their way down the street.

"Well, you helped too." He stated, still fixed on the pavement. "I want to give you this." He pulled the pencil from his pocket, handing it to John with a sincere smile. "You can write your notes with this when we're on cases. I prefer a pen."

John was taken aback by the gesture; since when was Sherlock one for sentimental gestures and putting thoughts into gifts?

"Wow, are you sure?"

"Very."

"Thank you," He tried to hide the lump in his throat. They allowed their fingertips to linger on one another as the item was passed over, taking advantage of the contact. This was the closest they could get to holding hands in public.

"Oh, and I want that back." He reminded, causing John to look down at the scarf he had subconsciously tied around his neck. He went to remove it, but a hand on his chest stopped him. "Not now, keep it on for a while longer. It suits you."