Chapter Text
Chapter One
The sun had just peaked above the horizon on a cold, early January morning in 221B Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes stared at the street buzzing with people below him out of the right window in the living room. He picked up an object, but this object wasn't any ordinary object, it was a violin. This particular musical instrument was owned by one Sherlock Holmes. The detective picked up his bow and played a sweet, soft, gentle, but not unimportant tune. The man had composed this piece and titled it “John’s Theme," as he played it every morning at the exact moment the doctor would wake up (save for the rare occasions where John would leave 221B Baker Street). The sound drifted through the walls of 221B and finally made its way up to Doctor John Watson’s bedroom. It was a small gesture that John appreciated, even if Sherlock didn't know it, he loved to start off his day by waking up knowing that someone cared about him. John descended the stairs that lead into the living room of the flat. He shot a small smile at the lean detective, who returned the small spark of happiness to his flatmate. Sherlock continued to play as John made a cuppa and popped in some toast so that Sherlock could at least start off the day with food in his stomach. It was his way of thanking Sherlock for being there.
John sat down to open his laptop that had been hidden under a few layers of documents. He brought his blog up and looked at his inbox to see if there were any notable cases awaiting him and Sherlock. He read one of the slim to nil messages he had received.
‘Message;
sent 01/15/16
From: Josiah Amberley
Dear Mr.Holmes and Doctor Watson,
My wife has been missing for several days now. I have done everything in my power to try and find her. I have contacted the police, but they are useless in their ability to locate her. She has taken a sizeable amount of cash with her, and I suspect she has run off with our neighbor, Dr. Ray Ernest, as her text messages that she so foolishly left open for me to read imply that she was having an affair with him. If you could track her down I would be able to pay you a large sum of money. I live in Robin Hood’s Bay in North Yorkshire and would be willing to meet with you to discuss the matter at a local pub.
Many thanks, J. Amberley.’
“Sherlock come here I think there’s something you’d like to see,” John called to Sherlock, who put down his violin to walk across the flat. He crept in behind John’s chair to peer at the screen. He scanned over the message in a matter of seconds, then took a hesitant step back.
“What about that would be of any importance to me? Another fit of lovers quarrel, not interested," Sherlock retorted.
“Sherlock, you don’t have any cases at all right now, apart from boiling fingernails in the kettle, which by the way, is extremely unsanitary.”
“Mph.”
“Plus the client lives in Robin Hood’s Bay, I’ve heard it’s quite a beautiful place, and since you continue to refuse to take a break, we could go up there for a week. Plus you’d have a case to solve, it’d be a win — win,” John suggested to Sherlock.
“I’ll sleep on it, but I’m not saying yes,” the detective murmured.
“Fine, good,” John said while taking out the toast and coating it with butter and jam, serving a slice to Sherlock.
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The next day…
The routinely played piece crept through the walls of the small flat yet again. John noticed that the tune seemed perkier today, which hopefully meant Sherlock would be in a decent mood. The blogger entered the peaceful atmosphere of their living room and took a seat in his chair. There was a cup of tea placed neatly on the small coffee table next to him.
“Did Mrs. Hudson make this?” John asked Sherlock, who was staring out the left window of the flat today.
“No, I did.”
“Please tell me you haven't drugged me again because Sherlock I swear to god-“
“No I didn't poison it this time, I promise,” Sherlock remarked with a smirk.
John picked up a copy of The Telegraph and started flipping through the different articles, half reading, half paying attention to Sherlock who was staring at him but seemed to have zoned out.
“Uh, Sherlock, I don’t know if you're there right now, but is there something you'd like to say or…?” John said waiting for Sherlock to respond.
“Oh, yes sorry it’s the thing,” he said pointing to his head.
“Okay?”
“I’ve made an executive decision to take Mr. Amberley’s case and accompany you to North Yorkshire,” Sherlock said matter of factly.
“Great, it will be good to get London out of our lungs for once.”
“I suppose so, the NO2 levels have been rising in the past few months, although a few days probably won’t do us much good as we’re breathing it in almost all the time otherwise,” Sherlock stated, half sarcastically. John just rolled his eyes at him, with goof intentions of course.
“So when are we set to leave?” John asked, trying to start a non-sarcastic conversation with Sherlock.
“Well, I estimated that the case will take me one to one and a half days to complete leaving us with time to view the local scenery, and for me to collect some samples of bacteria from the bay.”
“Great, getting samples — that'll make the entire trip worth it," John jested, Sherlock smirked at his remark.
“You never answered my question, when exactly are we leaving?” John said.
“Oh right that, well I booked tickets with Virgin Trains for 5 o’clock this afternoon.”
“Jesus, that’s this afternoon Sherlock!” John exclaimed.
“Yes, it is.”
“Well I’m going to have to explain this one to the clinic, I’ll meet you here at 3:30,” John said while dashing off to get ready quickly.
“Alright,” Sherlock responded, sighing and plopping down into his chair.