“Amazing,” I muttered, inspecting the phone to find the described marks. Spot on, almost.
“I said that was amazing.”
“That’s not what people usually say.”
“What do they say?”
“Piss off,” Sherlock replied. I laughed and shook my head. The rest of the cab ride went on in silence.
When the cab came to a stop, I peered out the window to find an abandoned flat. The air was cold and clung damply to my coat, its bone-chilling fingers wrapping around my wrists and pulling me under. I stumbled back from the building, bumping the automobile’s door shut. Sherlock raised a brow at me.
“Are you quite alright?” he asked in a low whisper. I glanced around, searching for the source of my fear. The street, dark as it was, provided no answer.
“Fine. Just fine,” I assured him as I pulled my coat tightly around myself, though the action did nothing to increase the warmth in my chest. I sighed.
“Come on,” Sherlock whinged. He tugged at my sleeve.
“I’m sure Sherlock won’t be too long, John,” Mrs Hudson said with a warm smile. I shrugged and drank in silence. When the tea was long gone and cups washed clean, we heard the sound of footsteps and the slamming of a door.
“Mrs Hudson!” a familiar, deep voice called. It sounded out of breath, like a marathon runner or a swimmer after doing laps. “If you would be so kind as to procure a batch of biscuits, preferably homemade, I would appreciate it greatly. I expect a guest – oh.” He stopped when his eyes settled on me.
Sherlock Holmes stood in the doorway, one hand full of his rich navy scarf, another of a plastic bag containing what appeared to be gag fingers. I hoped, at least, that they were so. Human fingers weren’t exactly what I expected of a man of such intelligence.
He followed my gaze and relaxed minutely. “Experiment,” Sherlock said, waving the bag like a prize. Smirking, I shook my head and sighed.
“Right. You didn’t kill anyone for them?” I asked half-heartedly. The man chuckled deeply. His Adam’s apple bobbed excitedly on his throat.
“Of course not. Molly obtained them from a donated body.”
“Ah. Good, then. I suppose. Why do you need fingers?”
“I’d love to indulge your curiosity, but certainly not with Mrs Hudson in the room. That would be inconsiderate.”
wip: x (from Chapter 6)
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