No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic

Again?!

Sherlock had excused himself to make a phone call outside in the hall. Both Celestia and John were situated comfortably in front of the fire in said woman's flat with mugs of hot coffee warming their hands. "You know who he's calling right?" John asked. Celestia shook her head. "Lestrade, I'd say. Sherlock made a huge fuss until they sent a search party out. After about three hours he realized something had happened. Your phone was untraceable for some reason; you might want to fix that by the way." Celestia flipped her phone over in her hands, finding a small square of black plastic attached discreetly to the bottom. "We were up searching basically all night. I caught a few hours, but I'll guarantee that Sherlock didn't get any sleep." He shook his head gently. "If Sherlock has ever loved anyone, he sure loves you." John laughed gently, a tired, breathy laugh. "You should have seen him. Greg probably thought half of London had been murdered."

"But I don't get it," Celestia countered, "all I've ever done is appreciate him; it's not like I deserve him, he's practically the next Albert Einstein!"

"You see that, and I see that, but no one else seems to. He's ridiculed for his talents, not praised. So when someone like you comes along and actually gives him the time of day and compliments him -" the doctor leaned forward, " he takes notice." Celestia fell back into the overstuffed chair with a breathy sigh.

"I still think it should be the other way around," she continued stubbornly. "I'm the one who doesn't deserve him."

John sighed loudly in annoyance. "I swear you two will be the death of me!" he joked. "First of all love isn't about deserving the other person! It's about appreciating them for who they are, seeing them the way no one else does. And two, not to be weird or anything, but you're kind of drop dead gorgeous and you obviously have no idea, so if it takes this totally straight guy to set your self esteem in the right place then so be it."

Celestia was now beet red, looking (extremely unfairly) like a heroine in a movie. She began to laugh, bringing her hand up to her mouth and biting her lip in amusement.

"Seriously though! You're probably up to your neck in lads." He shook his head and spoke under his breath, "And you choose the sociopath..."

"Actually, I can think of exactly one guy who's ever asked me out, and let's say it was all for the money."

"That is really, really hard to believe," John stated, stroking his non existent beard.

Celestia giggled, "What's with all this mushy gossip, anyway? You have been spending way too much time with Mary."

"Well, she is his wife," Sherlock noted blatantly as he walked back into the room, shutting the door behind him. What were you talking about? You're laughing enough to be mistaken for a cage of monkeys."

"About how Celeste here has never had a boyfriend."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, kinda sad isn't it?" she admitted sheepishly, rubbing the slightly raised scar tissue on her neck.

"I'm going back to Wales to see if I can find anything else I missed, possibly in the layout of the estate or the surrounding area. I'll be back around 7 o'clock," Sherlock stated, quickly changing the subject.
"We could have movie night when you get back, I think we all need some down time," John suggested.
Celestia shot him a quizzical look.

Movie night. With Sherlock? She had seen the boardgames in the closet...

"We should watch The Notebook and see how many times I cry and Sherlock doesn't!" John cried.

Celestia laughed, "Nah, I think Sherlock would rather watch Sweeney Todd so we can count how many on screen deaths there are!"

"You're both idiots," the detective mumbled with a smirk.

"I'm so bloody tired!" John called with a yawn, stretching upward like a kitten. "Don't you dare hold any of the ridiculous things I say when I'm half asleep against me!"

"Go to bed John, you're sleep deprived," Sherlock called sarcastically before heading out the door with a warm smile in Celestia's direction.

"What. Even. Just happened?"

"We're acting like a bunch of drunk idiots, that's what," Celeste mumbled with a sigh, opening her eyes wide as she began to feel the caffeine buzzing in her veins. It's funny now someone who's been unconscious for so long could be so tired. "Oh, and we've signed ourselves up for an hour and a half of Sherlock critiquing the inauthenticity of staged murders and the extremely high levels of improbability in the plot."

She felt relieved, happy in the way you are after you've laughed your head off for absolutely no good reason with a bunch of good mates. "I think I'm going to go get that tea I failed at getting before." John barely nodded his consent, his eyes dropping as though he could fall asleep any moment.

Gently, Celestia took the mug of liquid out of his slack grip and placed it on the coffee table. She threw the throw blanket over his slumped form and smiled as his lips crinkled up in a thankful expression. Grabbing the coat she had worn when she first arrived on Baker Street and pulling a crimson scarf around her neck to ward off the freezing December air, the woman strode into the kitchen. She stuffed some money in her pocket and ripped the black piece out of the auxiliary jack on her phone.

Out the door and a mere twenty steps down the road, the prick of a needle could be felt sticking into her neck. Celeste struggled as a familiar haze took over, her body limp.

••••••••••••••

Where am I?

The same thought as earlier ran through her mind as she came to, located in yet another alley.

You have got to be kidding me.

Same scenario as before, it seemed. No injuries, nothing missing, no imminent danger, just a normal alley in the heart of London. Although it was quite dark.

A quick glance at her phone notified her that she had only been out a few hours. It was 6:30 pm, just enough time to get home before Sherlock. Celestia cried out in annoyance, frustrated and confused. She was done with being someone's toy. Once was quite enough for one day. As soon as this Christmas murder was solved, Celestia was determined to persuade Sherlock to get to the bottom of this. Oh, yeah, and Sebastian Moran. That was pretty important as well...

Celeste was able to hail a cab, glancing back only once to realize she had emerged in front of a museum.

This had better not happen again.