Baker Street

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Baker Street

Post by Dead Is The New Sexy on Sun Aug 20, 2017 1:56 pm


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Re: Baker Street

Post by Edward Nygma on Tue Aug 29, 2017 4:36 pm

'But did you do her?' - JM

'Pardon?' - SH

'Irene, doofus.' - JM

'Oh no wait, my bad. THE WOMAN...' - JM

'What about her?'

'You know.' - JM

...

'Sherlooooccckkk' - JM

...

'It's just a question.' - JM

...

'Silence? Really Sherlock? Are you sure you want to play that game? Now?' - JM

...

'Are you going to talk to your skull-head? And I don't mean the blonde lap-dog obviously. He's not there anymore.' - JM

...

'Might as well be dead.' - JM

...

'Alright, alright. But be careful what you wish for. ... Good luck with the silence, Sherlock. You'll need it.' - SH

...

These were he last texts shared between the world's best consulting detective and the world's most notorious consulting criminal. And Sherlock had gone over them probably a thousand times right now. He'd been cooped up in his flat for ages; all alone. John still blamed him for Mary's death and was too busy raising their child. Molly didn't want to talk to him anymore. Even Mrs. Watson was on a holiday. That had left him only with his texts conversations with Jim Moriarty; but even those had come to an end now. And for what? For his pride? For a new sort of game he was too proud to lose? A game of silence. ... Sherlock loved a game more than anything but he had to admit that this one.. was boring. And so he was left shooting at the wall, browsing the internet with no actual goal and doing the occasional.. drugs, even if he tried to stay clean from them. Well, most of the time anyway.

He was sure he was going to win this game; stupid as it was. At some point Jim was going to give in and send him a text and this would all be over. He had to. And yet, three weeks had passed and he still hadn't heard anything.

He was switching through crappy television programmes tonight and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't focus on anything but those damn texts. They kept swirling through his head like a swarm of wasps. Until finally.. the stings became unbearable. Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and opened messenger, sending only four words.

'You win. This time.' - SH

After sending that he let himself fall on the couch with a huff and allowed himself to fall asleep with the thought there'd be a text back in the morning. ... But when he woke up the first thing he did was check on his phone. ... And there was nothing. ... Nothing.

That's when Sherlock leaped out of the couch and went to putting on clean clothes for the first time in over a month. He moved a hand through his hair, flung on a scarf and hurried out of the door, calling out for a taxi without bothering to lock the door behind him.

- TO MORIARTY'S MANOR
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