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Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P1                Sherlock’ s notes were as likely to be full of commentary on the inanity of today’s news anchors and his personal preferences regarding soy sauce and grammar than any blasts of genius, most people didn’t get that about him. But John Watson did. This infernal storm of papers all over the room is exactly what happened when you noticed everything. Genius was an untidy affair.
                Holmes records meandered like a forsaken cow abandoned in the desert, from ‘There were clear signs of formalin in the divots of the bowling ball – faintly detectable to the nose – enough to prove the client was lying; he had been in the University that night’, to ‘We are out of yogurt; who is responsible for this?’, although that last one, John felt a super-sleuth should have known.
Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P2                John brought the ladder. Together, they cleared down the boxes until they could open the one stacked lowest. It, Sherlock said, had a duplicated case number. Inside it, they found padding – bent and folded cardboard – and a smaller box. Inside that was a stout, clear plastic bag, like the kind one found around furniture, and, inside, a black garbage bag. They’d found the missing janitor (who had yet to be called in as missing.) He was small in size, and Asian. He sat with his knees against his chest, his head down, and his arms tucked inside.
                Sherlock’s head tipped to one side.
                Fetal position.
                Once John and Lestrade lifted
Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P3                It was a strange transition for him though, out of a world of salacious murders, forensics, and implacable logical puzzles into a 9 to 5 job. It was throwing the brakes on a Mack truck. The next few hours were wholly devoid of crushed skulls, smugglers, wily serial killers, and high art thieves of any kind. What he did have was:
1 case of tonsillitis
1 torn ligament
2 allergic reactions
6 colds or running noses
1 case of tennis elbow
1 migraine
                The office was secure and safe. It ran like a well-oiled machine. For example, the personnel were warm and welcoming. They treated incoming patients like coffee shop guests. Possibly because of the handling, the patients seemed like decent people under their aches and pains. He saw a couple of Sarah’s patients when she fell behind on vaccinations. She had four year old twins tearing through her examination room. It was funny to
Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P4                “You didn’t tell him about the letter.” John said quietly. “Isn’t there a chance this is still sitting in the mail room on this floor somewhere, you know, going between offices in the Met, rather than outside the building?”
                “Yes. And we’ll be looking for it as soon as the bleeding stops,” Sherlock said breathlessly. It had taken a lot of his energy to keep a front up for Lestrade. He pulled up his knees and sagged to the wall now. His face was shock white.
                “Drink this.” John opened a sugary orange juice that Sarah had thoughtfully thrown into the bag. She’d dropped in a four-pack and Watson knew they’d need every bottle.
                Sherlock cracked an eye open, took the container, and he
Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P5                Lestrade parked the car in the garage, shut the engine, and looked at the blank slab concrete wall before him. He set his hands back on the wheel, his knuckles nicked and traced with old scars. No one moved. Sherlock probably didn’t know they’d stopped yet.
                “Commander Snow,” Lestrade sounded irritated. His eyes glanced off the mirror to the back seat, and missing Sherlock’s attention entirely, fixed on John. “There’s a decent possibility that he won’t allow you into the building, and you can be certain he’s been told we’re on the way. That’s likely to mean he has people waiting for us.”
                “He’s a big fan of Sherlock’s,” John rubbed his cheek an
Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P10                “It’s bad luck to loiter in doorways, Lestrade.” Sherlock said lazily. “And don’t all police have superstitious minds?” He half smiled.
                “How’d you…” Lestrade gave his head a little shake and stepped inside. “How are you?”
                Sherlock’s eyes popped open, his lips tightened, “John? If I’m distracted by one more triviality, I’m pulling this needle out and leaving.”
                “Not bloody likely,” John told him sternly. “You won’t like life much if you leave here before you’ve had a chance for that arm to heal. The painkillers-
BBC Sherlock - The Burning Question P8                He showed the two men. Neither of them said anything, in fact, Tsitov refused to look at the page before him. However, Bogrov glanced at it. Sherlock watched a small knot form between the man’s brows. Holmes returned the notepad to his side of the table. Next he wrote.
 
                I would kill my daughter.
 
                This didn’t register with Bogrov at all. He had no children. He was familiar with none. It didn’t bother him. Tsitov still refused to look. John could see his resolve weakening. There was no way Sherlock couldn’t see the same. Now Sherlock had written.
 
                Rurik hates his wife.
 
      
Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P9                Every day is my birthday when I’m in the Yard, John thought. He looked at Holmes, bleeding and pale, and knew this had to end soon, or they risked his death.
                Sherlock realized this too. He made a gun shape with his right hand and flicked his wrist upward. John read that to mean, ‘Shoot him’. Holmes was all about expediency now that his mind was clouding with fever and blood loss. He’d solved the thing. He wanted it done.
                “Come out, Holmes. It’s you I want. No one else is going to get hurt if you come out. Not that pretty girl of yours, I saw you with. No one.”
                Sarah, he meant. John glanced at her fright
Sherlock - The Ninth Muse P8                Within five minutes, Lestrade and a decidedly hand-cuff-free Kelly Carter walked down the hall which ran parallel the glass wall. Carter was in sweats now, rather than in uniform. Sherlock scanned her head to toe as she came through the door and leered at him.
                “Well if it ain’t Billie-no-mates his-self.”
                “Himself.” Sherlock said reflexively. It didn’t seem to bother him he’d been called a friendless outcast. No, it was the grammar that got to him.
                “I been offered immunity, nancy, how do you like that?” She sat down in the chair on his right and leaned her elbows on it.
     
The Photography Club - P6                “Don’t be a smartass, Mr. Holmes!” Lewis barked. The huge man gave the door a few good pushes that jerked Sherlock’s entire frame. He put his head down and beamed. “Oh wait. I can hear him going away.”
                “He’s getting Scott,” Reese stood about three feet off of Holmes, her arms crossed. “Nice work though. I mean, you’re so slim. I can’t believe you could keep him from bursting in the door. My hero.”
                “Hardly,” Sherlock looked up at her. “Much more and I was going to tag you. Not to mention,” he reached across and flicked the lock back and forth, “this lovely British metal I have.”
      
The Photography Club - P1Author's Note: There is discussion of Holmes' drug use in this story.  
                Sherlock Holmes was sitting on his favorite chair, lotus, with his laptop on his knees. He looked like he hadn’t moved for hours, in fact he was surrounded by an array of folding trays, upon which there were piled baggy upon baggy of samples of all kinds: transistors, strands of hair, kitchen knives, moldy bread, a fragment of sparkly nail polish, bits of bone, hose, scraps of skin, even a phial of what John felt pretty reliably was Sherlock’s own blood.
                “I put my bullet in,” he whispered as John and Sarah stood just inside the door to the living room. “It’s magnificent.”
                “Great, yeah… what are we talk
The Photography Club - P2                “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sarah pecked John on the cheek and went directly to Sherlock where she paused only briefly to say, “I’m so sorry.” before leaving.
                Sherlock watched after her as he unbuttoned his jacket. He shut the door to their apartment when she’d gone out the front. Then he turned to John. “The Detective Inspector left a message with you as well, I trust.”
                “Sherlock,” John said lowly.
                “Now Sarah’s gone, I don’t suppose you’d like a trip to the Yard. Promises to be unusual, whatever it is.” He strode deeper into the room. “And I haven&
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BBC Sherlock Fan-Fic. The Double Walker.

Journal Entry: Sat Nov 12, 2011, 5:05 PM
Title: The Double Walker
Words: 128 pages
Rating: G
Characters: Sherlock Holmes. John Watson. G Lestrade. Sarah Sawyer. Other BBC Sherlock cast.
Warnings: None.

Summary: This is a complete BBC Sherlock fan-fiction in 13 parts (not including the cover). With John caught in the middle of staffing changes at the clinic, and Sherlock's boredom reaching ever more grandiose heights, it was the right time for a case. With a missing corpse, and a troubling crime scene so bloody it's impossible the victim could've survived, there's more than enough to keep Sherlock occupied, even before it becomes clear this victim is no stranger. Can Sherlock and John interpret the three words, left as clues, in time to catch the culprit?

BBC Sherlock Fan-Fic - The Double Walker [link]

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BBC Sherlock Fan-Fic. The Double Walker.by =MagicBunni

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©2011-2013 =MagicBunni
Category: Journals / Personal

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November 12, 2011

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