Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Life

Chapter 20

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Sherlock's P.O.V.

John and I had climbed into one of Mycroft's cars that was waiting outside the palace. I didn't care if it wasn't meant for us, I needed to get away from Sarah. The feelings, that I still hadn't managed to supress, were bubbling back to the surface with every second that I stood in that room with her. Every glance that she gave me was like a thousand volts running through my heart and every time she spoke I couldn't help but miss how she'd show off her skills in the most subtle of ways, ways that I would never be able to master.

"You know," John said as he buckled his belt, "You could try talking to her about it."

"What? No." I said swiftly

"Why not? She won't bite."

"It's not that. I just think-" before I could continue my sentence the front passenger door opened and the one person I didn't want to see right now climbed in.

"Hello, boys." she gestured to us before turning to the driver, "Step on it, we've got a case to solve."

"We?" I questioned

"Yes, Mycroft put me on this case with you."

"Why? We're perfectly capable of working this out ourselves."

"That's what I said but he seemed insistent." Sarah sighed.

Sarah's P.O.V.

The car ride was mostly silent until John piped up, voicing his earlier confusion from the palace.

"Okay, the smoking. How did you know?" I saw Sherlock smile briefly before shaking his head in the rear view mirror. I observed the movements he made as he spoke.

"The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but do not observe."

"Observe what?" Sherlock reached into his coat and pulled out a glass ashtray as he said

"The ashtray." and tossed it into the air, caught it and tucked it back into his coat, chuckling as John laughed with delight. I could help but allow myself to steal a smile. I really had missed the two of them. John with his sharp humour and Sherlock with his cheekbones, incredible intelligence and unparalleled ignorance.

We stopped at 221B and got out of Mycroft's car; Sherlock flagged down the next cab that came by and not so much as asked but told the driver to wait for us while I looked across the road at my not-so-old flat. It felt like years since I'd been here when, in fact, it had only been a matter of days. Before I could become too nostalgic I was summoned inside the boys' flat by John, Sherlock had already vanished up the stairs. When we got onto the landing I heard the sound of something soft hitting the wall at the far end of the flat and glanced down the corridor inside to see various items of clothing flying towards the wall, before hitting it and dropping, at regular intervals.

"What are you doing?" John shouted down to Sherlock who, I presumed, was the source of the flying items.

"Going into battle, John. I need the right armour." Sherlock emerged in a ridiculous yellow high visibility jacket, examining the sleeves before deciding against it and going back to his rooting.

"I'll put the kettle on," John said to me, "We could be a while."; he was right. It took almost an hour for Sherlock to get changed but, as it turned out, he hadn't really gotten changed at all. I felt sorry for the poor taxi driver, who was still sat outside. Holmes came into the dining room where John and I were sat finishing our tea.

"Ta-dah!" he exclaimed, putting up jazz hands.

"You haven't changed anything." John observed

"What do you mean? Of course I have." Sherlock gestured to a piece of plastic that he'd tucked under the front of his collar which was supposed to make him look like a vicar. Watson groaned and placed his face in the palm of his hand before getting up and taking our cups to the sink.

"Not really much of a disguise, is it?" I said, "What are you going to do, anyway? Ask her if she has a moment to talk about our lord and saviour Jesus Christ?"

"You underestimate me." Sherlock wined as we all grabbed our coats and made for the door.

"Yeah, but that's only because if we overestimate you we'll be disappointed." John said sarcastically; both of us laughing as we climbed into the back of the cab. The driver had almost fallen asleep until Sherlock told him to drive.

"So, what's the plan?" John asked after about twenty minutes of me quizzing Sherlock on his... Interesting array of clothing. I'd missed talking to him so much.

"We know her address." Sherlock stated as he leaned past me sat in the middle of the boys to speak to John

"What, just ring her doorbell?" Watson said, confused at the fact that Sherlock's plan was so basic

"Exactly." Holmes smiled before calling to the cab driver "Just here, please."

"You didn't even change your clothes."

"Then it's time to add a splash of colour." he grinned, climbing out of the door and jumping over the railing we had pulled up at. John followed, not so elegantly, and when it came to my turn I put my hands on but didn't really have the upper body strength to pull myself up and over so I was just pushing on the bar. The taxi that we were in had gone so there was nothing between my failure and the mocking public; I began to panic.

"Sherlock!" I Shouted, catching his attention "A little help?!" with this he came running back to the rails, placed his hands under my arms and pulled me over to his side. It seemed that I weighed nothing to him as he put me down, smiling,

"Come on slow poke." he taunted. I laughed and followed by his side. John watched us walk up to him and shook his head with an incredulous look on his face.

"You two..." he laughed with what sounded like disbelief but I couldn't quite figure out what he couldn't believe

"What?" Sherlock echoed my thoughts as he lead us down a narrow side street

"You're both idiots."

"Rude." both me and Sherlock replied and then grinned at each other. Suddenly, Sherlock stopped and pulled off his scarf, turning to face John and I.

"Are we here?" John asked

"Two streets away, but this'll do." Holmes said

"For what?" I questioned

"Punch me in the face." he gestured to his left cheek.