Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Three

Margaux sat at her desk, staring at the clock and absentmindedly chewing the nail on her index finger. She wondered why people said 'tick tock', because when she really listened to it, there was no difference in sound from one second to the next, if anything it was more of a 'tick tick', she thought, or a 'tock tock'. God she was bored. She shook her head, tucked her hair behind her ears and returned to the files spread out on the desk in front of her.

A man found dead in the middle of a field; no Wallet or ID, no water for miles, yet the state of his body and the autopsy clearly showed he was drowned.

"It has to be..." Margaux whispered to herself.

III

The lady on reception was young with short, dyed ginger hair. She was typing on the computer, tilting her head to one side and chewing on a sweet from the bowl next to her.

A whoosh from the revolving door revealed Sherlock, fixing the collar of his coat as he walked towards the front desk. He was followed shortly after by John who brushed away the hale stones that had fallen on his shoulders.

"You need a pass to get beyond this point," said the receptionist as the two men flitted past her.

They stopped, turned around and walked back to the desk.

"Well then give me a pass," replied Sherlock.

"That's alright I'll just wait here then," John added sarcastically.

The receptionist rolled her eyes and pushed another sweet into her mouth, "I can't just give you a pass, this is a high security facility," she began, chewing simultaneously. "You need to be registered as a visitor and have the reason for your visit confirmed by an agent or member of the bureau."

"Well I'm here to see Dr Cave..." said Sherlock.

The receptionist typed on her computer for a moment before leaning back in her chair and looking up at them slowly.

"She's in the offices upstairs. And you still don't have a pass, so..."

"This is ridiculous. Can you just call Doctor Cave in her office and she'll tell you who I am, then you can just let me through." Sherlock was growing increasingly frustrated as John stood calmly beside him, bracing for the eruption.

"Well you'd still need a pass to get beyond this point," the receptionist sneered.

"Is this a joke?" Sherlock laughed in disbelief, holding his arms out and turning around as if he was being watched by hidden cameras. "Has somebody–"

John stepped forward, "Hi..." He glanced at her name plate, "Sophia. I'm Dr John Watson. My friend here is Sherlock Holmes, he's a... consulting detective, and we're working closely with the police on a case at the moment. We've enlisted the help of Dr Cave, so can you just let her know we're here please?"

The receptionist rolled her eyes and began to tap slowly at the keys on her computer. Agonisingly slow.

Sherlock placed his hands on the desk "Can you please just...!" He took a deep breath and turned to John. "You know I could have very well gotten myself through there by now–"

"Yes I know, but we agreed no more breaking and entering. At least not for a while."

"This is exactly why I don't follow the rules, John, because anyone can enforce them."

"I find your tone extremely offensive," said the receptionist.

"Offensive? Ha! You know what I find offensive? The fact that you're taking your break-up out on me."