━━━━ 𝘽𝘽𝘾 𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆
Janet Watson, John's little sister, suddenly shows up on the doormat of Apartment 221B Bakerstreet, completely out of breath and not only with a black eye, but a big package of secrets locked inside her heart.
[S.H. x O...
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┏━━━━ ༄ ━━━━┓ fast car ┗━━━━ ༄ ━━━━┛
IT WAS IN the middle of the night when John was given a rude awakening. At first he couldn't identify the frequent noise, rather convinced himself it was only a dream. Just when he had lowered his eyelids, ready to fall back asleep, the noise became louder and more often. John waited a few seconds, still hoping for the noise to vanish, but it was vain.
He sighed passionately, cursing Sherlock for his ignorance. Why must it always be John who took care of situations like these?
John kicked the covers off his feet and got up. For a moment he had to prop up at the frame, because blackness impeded his sight.
"John?", sounded the baritone voice from downstairs. "Are you up?".
"Give me a minute", responded John. "Did you make that noise?".
"No. Somebody's knocking. That's unusual, it's past midnight!".
"Jesus, can't you get it?", asked John annoyed. "You probably haven't slept anyway." Slowly, full of exhaustion, he walked out of the room. It took a while until Sherlock reported back.
"I'm sort of ... having a situation", he inquired hesitantly.
When John reached the first floor, he was presented the depiction of Sherlock Holmes sitting on the black leather chair, his arms on the rest. His arms, however, weren't just laying there as a matter of comfort; the bottom side showed to the ceiling and had leeches sucking on the skin.
In the first moment, John gasped and wanted to express his disgust. In the second moment, he changed his mind. This scenario wasn't surprising to him. It couldn't even be, not after everything's he's went through with Sherlock throughout the past months.
"I'm... I'm not gonna ask", he said calmly and rubbed his eyes. "Never asking", he murmured to himself, when he turned around to the door. "It doesn't seem like somebody's...".
And there it was again. Suddenly not regular, quite panicked knocking.
"Who's there?", asked Watson with raised voice. He leaned his arm against the wooden door, because after a sleep amount of only two hours the weight of his body was too much to carry.
"Open up!".
John froze in his motion. "No", he whispered, while he fumbled at the lock. "It can't be."
"What?", asked Sherlock. "Why are you shaking?".
John didn't listen, tried to get the door opened as fast as possible. When the door finally swung open, his heart dropped.
