A/N- Shorter Chapter bit of a set up... I know where I'm going with this though so at least I've got a plan now XD
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Darcy's POV
Not leaving the flat was something I could do. I was very good at that. It's what I'd decided to do, especially after Moriarty had approached me and Irene could have been anywhere.
I skipped out on cases with Sherlock from time to time and just stayed in, keeping Mrs Hudson company. He didn't need me anyway, he had John and his massive intellect.
Frankly it had been so long since I'd seen Carl I'd forgotten I had a friend. I hoped he was okay but doubted I'd ever see him again. I hoped he was on a course for fashion design or whatever it is he wanted to do.
Scott had been getting more and more agitated and angry with me. Some days he barely text me. He said that he would wait for me, until I was ready but I knew he couldn't.
There was a moment when I was sat watching Coronation Street with Mrs Hudson that I contemplated going to his club in town. But I decided against it, not wanting to know what he did as part of his business or what he got up to with other women.
So I continued to watch Coronation Street and had to bite back any comment I made about how awful it was and how little sense it made. Mrs Hudson had allowed me to lay out on her sofa since she occupied her own armchair that I could tell by the imprint on it she often used.
"I hate to sound ungrateful, dear, because I really do love having you over but..." Mrs Hudson stated as two women were arguing over some average looking guy on the telly. "...well, don't you have something better to do?"
I chuckled out loud and looked behind the arm of the chair at her. "God yeah. Just don't feel like doing it, that's all."
"Oh, well, good." Mrs Hudson stuttered quietly and I noticed her stand out of the corner of my eye. "Tea?"
I smiled widely. "Please." She walked over and patted my arm comfortingly.
Sitting in that old style living room drinking tea with Mrs Hudson made me forget about Jim Moriarty and the sight on the jet. All those dead bodies.
I didn't mind dead bodies, I hung around crime scenes for fun, but that many and the way Mycroft was just going to send them all up into the sky to get blown up. It seemed wrong.
"I should probably head back upstairs." I said and carried my mug through to her kitchen. "Thanks for the tea. I'll see you later."
"Bye dear." She called through to me as I walked toward to the door.
"Bye." I hollered back through and closed the door to her flat behind me as I left. I made my way up the stairs to 221B and there seemed to be no signs of anyone even being there.
But I was proven wrong instantly when the door to the kitchen was open and John stood there with his back to it. "Hey." I said quietly and entered the kitchen.
Sherlock was sat behind his microscope with a camera phone in his hand and John was stood looking anxious. I pointed to the phone and frowned. "Urm... is that-?"
"Irene Adler's phone? Yep." John answered for me and patted his leg before turning and leaving.
I widened my eyes as he left. "Oh... right. Okay. So, you have it?" I asked Sherlock who hummed and went back to his microscope.
"She's dead." He stated and didn't look up once.
I chuckled under my breath and crossed my arms. "For real this time?"
Sherlock finally looked up but didn't speak just nodded slightly and I sighed, taking this new information in. "You're not shitting me? This is true?" I asked quietly.
He didn't speak for a moment as he contemplated his words which didn't help his case. "Yes. She's gone and not going to be turning up on our doorstep anytime soon."
I took a breath and sat myself down slowly in the chair opposite him. My hands were clasped in front of me on the table and I watched him as he scrolled through his phone. "How are you holding up?"
His eyes moved up from the phone and then went back to it. "Fine. I'm fine."
"Course you are." I said with a slight smile. "Because you're Sherlock Holmes, the detective with the funny hat."
Sherlock glared over at me and I smirked before pushing my chair away from the table. "How's Scott?" He asked with a chiding tone. I chuckled and shook my head. "You haven't seen him in a while."
"Safer." I said with a shrug and stood, pushing my chair under the table again.
He frowned and lowered his phone a little. "For him or for you?"
"For him, I guess. I mean I'm mixed up with a lot of dangerous people." I spoke with a tone of finality.
Sherlock hummed in thought and then pulled a face of disagreement. "So is he. His Father embezzles money for Moriarty. I should know I handled his case and he walked away scott-free." He groaned to himself. "No pun intended."
"Oh I think you fully meant that." I said and pointed at him, tormenting him. "Sherlock Holmes is making puns now, I'll make sure to mention it to John."
Sherlock glared sternly at me and I laughed before saluting cheekily, heading for his bedroom. "I'm going for a nap, okay?" I announced and I heard him mumble something incoherently as I pushed open the door.
I threw myself onto the bed and bounced a little. Irene Adler was dead for real. Before, I hadn't comprehended the notion of her death because it didn't make sense at the time. Now after she'd essentially lost I could very well believe she had been killed by some organisation in a foreign country somewhere.
Stretching out on the bed I covered my eyes and sighed loudly. Water pooled in my eyes and I had no idea why. I wasn't upset about her death, not in the slightest. Did people cry in relief? Was that a thing? That's what it felt like I was doing as I wiped away the tears that were falling down the sides of my face.
My phone buzzed but I couldn't bring myself to read whatever message Scott had sent me. No doubt it was an angry one.
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This had to have been the weirdest thing I'd ever done and I'd done some strange things in my time. How we'd managed to persuade Molly to let us do this I had no idea.
But I reckon it had something to do with Sherlock batting his eyelashes at her before she relented in a matter of seconds. I stared at the carcass on the metal table and then up at Sherlock's menacing grin.
"Are we seriously doing this?" I asked in disbelief and put my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I had thankfully found some science goggles lying about and quickly put them on my head.
Sherlock clutched onto the harpoon in his hand tightly. "If we want to solve the case we have to."
I sighed and moved the goggles to cover my eyes. "Fine. Just try not to get too much blood on me okay?" Sherlock scoffed and raised his harpoon, pointing it at the pig carcass. Our case involved someone being killed with an implement we couldn't identify and Sherlock thought the only way to figure it out was to stab a dead pig with a harpoon.
It was logical because pig flesh was the most similar to human's but it was still a bit grim. Sherlock hadn't really dressed appropriately either because he was wearing a white shirt which wouldn't do well with blood.
I, on the other hand, had donned some old black jeans and a black top I no longer wanted. I'd thought ahead. My phone buzzed in my pocket for the first time in two days and I rolled my eyes before taking it out.
Scott- Look, this is ridiculous... what are you doing today? I'm coming to see you. X
I sighed and shook my head.
Me- Loving the fact you've grown some balls... not today though. Super busy with a case. X
Scott- Not taking no for an answer this time. Where are you?
Sherlock looked down at me, waiting until I was ready for him to stab the dead pig. He didn't want me to miss out, obviously. I put a finger up telling him to wait just one minute.
Me- A hospital. Not what you think, I'm fine. Just not today.
Scott- What the hell are you doing at a hospital? X
Me- You wouldn't believe me if I told you. X
I put my phone away and looked up at Sherlock, who raised an eyebrow questioningly. "You finished?" He asked firmly.
"Yeah, I'm good. Go on, stab the pig." I answered and gestured to the carcass.
Sherlock smile menacingly and jabbed the sharp prongs of the harpoon into the flesh of the pig six continuous times. Each time blood spluttered out and I flinched as it splattered onto my clothes.
A drop landed in the middle of one side of my goggles and I grimaced as it dripped down to the bottom of the lens, leaving a streak of red. Once he'd finished attacking the dead pig Sherlock breathed heavily and banged the bottom of the harpoon on the floor.
He hurried over to examine the wounds left behind. I however grabbed a couple of tissues and took to cleaning off the science goggles instead. It was one thing Molly's lab was now covered in blood but a pair of her goggles too, that was just unfair.
"It's a match. He was killed with a harpoon. Although not this one, obviously, I'm keeping this." Sherlock finally answered and quirked a smile at the harpoon in his hand.
I rolled my eyes and put the goggles on the side. "Why am I not surprised? Another weapon to add to the collection." I grimaced at the blood on my black t-shirt and whined at the state of my combat boots.
"Case solved. Come on." Sherlock announced and headed for the door. Most of his white shirt was covered in blood and the way he was gripping tightly onto the harpoon made him look like even more of a mad man.
His hair was dripping with blood and his face was splattered with it. We got a lot of strange looks as we walked through the corridors of St Barts, Sherlock more so than me but I could feel parts of my hair were clumped together.
"Sherlock?" I asked and he turned around slightly. "One question. Do I have blood in my hair?"
He fully turned and frowned before nodding. "Yes."
"Lovely. Thanks." I stated as we made it to the foyer and Sherlock strode off toward the front door. I toddled after Sherlock and looked around as patients, nurses and receptionists all stared at us. Rolling my eyes I jogged along behind Sherlock and through the automatic doors onto the street.
Everyone that passed us did a double-take and some mouths dropped open at the sight. "I think standing in the middle of London covered in blood is a new low for me." I announced as Sherlock tried to flag down a cab.
"I've seen you at worse." He retorted and waved his hand in the air, the cab he'd spotted came to stop but then swerved away again once he'd seen us.
"Oh, yeah. When? When have I ever looked this bad?" I exclaimed and immediately thought of a time I had looked this bad. Although then I was covered in my own blood and chained to a chair in Irene Adler's cellar.
Sherlock didn't answer and just sighed. "We're not getting anywhere with this. Come on, we're getting the tube."
He marched off in the direction of the nearest tube station. "Woah, woah. Hold on, did you just say tube?" I called after him as I followed quickly. "But you hate the tube! It's full of... people!"
"It's better than walking, isn't it?" Sherlock replied as I caught up with him. He was using the harpoon as a walking stick and with his long strides I was finding it extremely difficult to actually stay by his side.
I was worried we'd pass some police officers and they'd stop us, then arrest us and Sherlock would be the main suspect for the murder we were actually trying to solve. It was like The Study in Pink all over again. Even I was calling it that now.
Luckily we didn't catch the eye of any police officers but the woman in the ticket booth looked extremely disturbed as we bought our tickets. I waved awkwardly before I hurried towards the ticket barrier after Sherlock and I glanced back to see some security men gathered around the ticket booth talking with the woman.
"Quickly. We have to go." I said in a hushed tone and grabbed my ticket from his hand, scanned it and walked through the now open barrier. "Hurry up!" I called over my shoulder at him as I made my way over to the platform we would need.
We managed to make it onto our train without being questioned and all we had to cope with now was the suspicious glances we were getting from London commuters. "The things Scotland Yard have us doing to solve their cases."
Sherlock was holding the harpoon in the middle and the bottom was on the floor between his feet. "They don't make us do anything."
"Oh no, I forgot we do it for fun." I commented sarcastically under my breath and crossed my arms, sitting back in my seat.
I looked across as a mother and her son, she was holding onto him tightly and looking back at me with wide eyes. "By all means get a job with Mycroft in the government but I doubt it will be as fun as this." Sherlock retorted and didn't even think to lower his voice.
"Because this- sitting here covered in blood- is fun." I said through gritted teeth. The mother glared over at me and pulled her son closer, I smiled as politely as I could in return just to annoy her further.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You've been covered in blood before."
"Yeah but that was my own blood. Not the same as being splattered with pig's blood so you can find a murder weapon and then having to ride the tube because, surprise, surprise, none of the cabs would pick us up." I seethed and pouted, staring straight ahead out the window in front of me.
The mother immediately shuffled further away from us and I just clenched my jaw in frustration. "You didn't have to come along."
"Yeah but I had nothing better to do did I?" I commented and smirked over at him.
He chuckled as the voiceover woman spoke out one of the stops. "Our stop after this one."
"Finally." I sighed and examined my blood stained boots. "Will you clean my boots for me?" I asked him hopefully.
Sherlock looked down at me, shocked. "What makes you think I'll do that?"
"I'll tell John you promised to clean them for me." I answered with a wide smile.
He sighed and mumbled something incoherent under his breath before he answered, "Fine. I'll clean your damn boots."
The train stopped and Sherlock stood, people parted for us as he marched onto the platform. I awkwardly smiled at all of the shocked faces and I smirked to myself at the fact that we'd even managed to stop normally rushing commuters in their panicked dashing about the city.
It didn't take us long to get from the Baker Street station to the flat, since they were so close together, and thankfully there weren't too many people between here and there. How we had managed this I had no idea.
Sherlock unlocked the door to 221 Baker Street and marched up the stairs. I rolled my eyes as he burst through the door to the living room and slammed the harpoon down onto the floor. "Well, that was tedious."
I wandered into the living room and stood beside him, looking absolutely furious. John's eyes widened as he looked between us. "You two went on the tube like that?!" He exclaimed.
"None of the cabs would take us." I answered through gritted teeth as Sherlock stormed off towards his room. I wandered over to the sofa and sat down. "I have never felt so gross." I shuddered.
John frowned and pointed to my head. "You've got , um, blood in your hair."
"Yes I know John." I seethed and angrily took my boots off before slamming them down on the wooden floor. I grumbled when I heard the shower starting. "Damn it."
My hair was really starting to clump and knot together, I grimaced down at my blood splattered arm and felt it drying on my skin. I sighed and laid back on the sofa. All I wanted was to have a shower. I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket but I didn't care.
As soon as I heard the shower stop I sat up quickly and the stood as the bathroom door opened. I rushed into Sherlock's bedroom, grabbed some clean clothes and a towel. When I left his room Sherlock was stood waiting in pair of his pyjamas and was towel drying his curls. "It took you long enough." I huffed and pushed past him, into the bathroom.
"Can you clean my boot please?" I smiled innocently and he shook his head before he entered his room and I slammed the bathroom door shut behind me.
Showering had never felt so good. Cleaning all that blood from my hair felt amazing. I stayed in the shower for what must have been ages just letting the water run over me and I ended up sitting on the floor.
But soon I decided enough was enough and I got out, after towel drying myself I put my clean clothes on. My hair was still damp, I brushed it out, and then rubbed it with a towel as I left the bathroom.
"I need a case!" Sherlock shouted as soon as I left and he was stood, crouched, on his armchair. My eyes widened as he crouched there looking rather manic.
"You've just solved one!" John exclaimed and threw his arms in the air, I stared at the back of his head as he sat in his chair. "By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!"
I rolled my eyes and walked into the living, still drying my hair. Sherlock threw himself up in the air and landed, sitting in his chair. "That was this morning!" He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "When's the next one?"
"Is there nothing on the website?" I asked and sat back down on the sofa. I propped my elbow up on my leg and continued to dry my hair. I took my phone from my pocket and shook my head at all the texts on screen before putting it on the coffee table.
Sherlock just opened up his laptop and passed it over to me harshly, I took it clumsily and read the message on there as Sherlock read it aloud in a mocking tone. "Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help?"
"Bluebell" John questioned with a confused expression.
Sherlock turned around sharply and exclaimed, "A rabbit, John!"
"A rabbit." I repeated quietly with a slight sigh.
I went on to explain more but Sherlock started to speak sarcastically. "Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous..." He then spoke in a high pitched voice, mimicking what the little girl may sound like. "...like a fairy! According to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry..."
Sherlock stopped walking about and stood up straight, looking serious all of a sudden and I rolled my eyes. "Ah! What am I saying? Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit."
John raised his eyebrows and I laughed in disbelief. "Are you serious?" John asked him.
Sherlock looked between us, deadly serious. "It's this, or Cluedo."
My eyes widened and I slammed the laptop closed. "Nope, not that again. I refuse to play that game with you."
"Why?" Sherlock asked, feigning disappointment.
I put the laptop down on the coffee table, next to my phone. John sighed and shook his head. "Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why."
"Well, it was the only possible solution." Sherlock argued and shrugged.
I huffed and put my head in my hands. "But it isn't in the rules. One of the party guests have to be the murderer."
"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock exclaimed and I glared playfully over at him. Only his expression wasn't as fun but more furious. He was bored out of his mind and we were paying the price, as usual.
From downstairs the doorbell rang and my head whipped around to look at the living room door. My eyes widened and I smiled, a pleased and delighted smile.
"Single ring." John stated and held up a finger.
Sherlock looked in the same direction I was. "Maximum pressure-"
"Just under the half second." I finished for him and didn't dare turn my gaze from the door.
My phone buzzed and lit up in the brief silence but again I ignored it. We all spoke then at the same time as we knew exactly who was at the door without even checking.
"Client."
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Thoughts? Hounds of Baskerville... looking forward to it XD
Please vote and comment guys, only if you want ;)
-HBH xxxx
Disclaimer- I don't own any of the characters, except Darcy and Scott, or any lines from the show. Those rights belong to the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.