His Empty Chair

Chapter 2

August 25th

John clutched the file to his chest as he as slowly made his way back to the main road. He had a slight sickening feeling in his stomach at the thought of having to most likely be the one to tell poor James' sister of his death. She had only just left Sherlock's and it had been quite early in the morning so she may not know of her other brother's death unless the police had personally contacted her. She had seemed nice enough but when ones only other living relation is murdered you tended to become quite distraught.

While Sherlock depended on his ability to talk with others and to sympathise, he himself did not feel altogether too confident in having to tell an already worried sister of another death in the family.

When he reached the main road he quickly hailed a cab, the ride was fairly short and as they wound their way along the streets John had time to again think over the odd actions of Sherlock. There was something Sherlock wasn't telling him and he knew it, he had seemed odd for days. Something was going on just beneath the surface, John could sense something brewing and he did not like the dread that he felt at the possibilities of what could be coming. This case seemed especially odd and Sherlock seemed to be as removed as ever.

And then today at the museum Sherlock had seen someone. John had never seen Sherlock act that way before, it was as if he had seen a ghost or some frightening monster. But he was Sherlock, what could possibly scare him. These thoughts echoed through his brain over and over again without him ever seeming to get anywhere, it just didn't make any sense.

He had to drag himself out of his thoughts when he arrived at Emily's flat. He paid the cabbie and as it drove away he found himself standing at the footsteps of a small and rather shabby looking flat. It had the distinct appearance of once being very fine but of late it seemed to have been neglected.

With an inward sigh he climbed the steps and rang the buzzer. He really didn't want to do this, he was not in the mood today and he had better things to be doing. Mary was nagging him and he needed to get some sleep. Yet he was interested by the case and he knew Sherlock wanted him to help but Mary was being very persistent about getting ready for the baby.

He could hear the doorbell echo loudly within the flat but no footsteps issued from within. With a slight frown he rang the buzzer again, he looked through the small window to the side of the door but couldn't see anything. Getting slightly impatient he rung it again.

This time he got a reply. He heard shuffling feet approaching before the door opened a crack. A single puffy red eye glared out from the crack at him, he could feel the piercing eye judging him but he tried to ignore it. He was concentrating too hard on trying not sigh loudly at the fact that judging by her appearance she must know of her other brother's death. Thank god he didn't have to tell her. At least he wouldn't have to go through the trouble of doing that. But a thought occurred to him that now he would have to deal with a very upset and very emotionally unstable person.

"If you came here just to stare could you piss off, or is it that the death of my other brother is more important?" There was an accusatory tone to her voice and she continued to glare at him.

"No, no sorry it's just I have come to ask about James," as he spoke he could tell he had said the wrong thing, Emily's whole face had transformed and she had a comical expression of disbelief on her features. John had absolutely no idea what he could have possibly said wrong but he ploughed forward, "we're trying to find out what happened to him." He inwardly grimaced at his lack of tact. Her expression was no longer one of surprise but she was glaring at him very well.