Sherlock: Before He Became a Consulting Detective

12. Big Brother Is Watching

While working on another case Lestrade and his team couldn't solve, Sherlock fell asleep next to the microscope. He was alone at the lab and it was already past midnight.

He woke an hour later with a stiff neck and sore back. He had to stay awake until he was finished. If he had only one tablet, it would see him through. He glanced at his watch, jumped up and put on his coat before he left.

A taxi dropped him off a few blocks from the hospital. He waited until the driver drove off before he walked into a dark alley. His eyes skimmed over the area.

When he noticed someone approaching, he pushed his back against the wall, hoping the person didn't see him. His heart hammered in his chest. Was it the dealer? It might be a mugger or even a killer.

He was hardly breathing. He narrowed his eyes trying to recognize the man.

"Yo, Sherly my man," the man called out.

Sherlock sighed with relief. "I took a chance, I didn't know if you were still dealing here."

"Long time man, where you been?" the black man asked.

"I stopped using, Whitey."

He frowned. "Now what you doing here?"

"I need just one. I have to finish this thing I'm working on and I keep falling asleep."

"Going to cost you a lot, better you take five I give it for same price as one."

Sherlock shook his head. "Fine, give me five. Is the price still the same?"

"What you pay last time?"

He sighed. "I can't remember."

The black man held his hand out. "Give me hundred pounds for five."

Neither of the two men noticed the car stopping at the end of the alley. A man climbed out and strolled towards them.

Sherlock took out his wallet and opened it. "Where's the tablets, Whitey. If you run with my money, I'll hunt you down."

He snorted. "What? No Sherly man, I will never run with your money. The tablets are in my pocket." He took out a sachet with the five small tablets inside and laid it on the palm of his hand. "There, you believe me now?"

He chuckled when he took two fifty pound notes out of his wallet. Before he could hand the money over, a voice spoke in the dark behind them.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Sherlock."

He flung around. "Greg, what are you doing here?" When he turned back, Whitey was gone. "Now looked what you've done," he cried out. "Did Mycroft send you?"

"Yes, he worries about you. He saw on the CCTV monitor in his office you were heading over here. He knows it's your old dealing place, so he woke me up and asked me to save you from falling for this crap again."

Sherlock raised his head and scanned the buildings. "There are no surveillance cameras here." His brows furrowed, making nose crinkles. "What's he still doing at the office?"

Greg pointed to a camera at the end of the alley. "There's one where the taxi dropped you off. He's still at the office because he's looking out for you."

He placed his hands in his coat pockets and turned around, biting his lower lip. He could kill Mycroft for spying on him.

Greg took him by the arm. "Come. I'll take you home."

He jerked loose and charged down the alley, his long coat flapping behind him.

Greg sighed, while watching him, before he followed.