The Blonde

Where Is She?

John opened the door and was about to step into the hall when he was stopped by Sherlock's question.

"John, where are you going?"

He almost said Isn't it obvious? But stopped himself.

"To get my pillow," he replied.

"No," Sherlock said, standing up.

"No?" John asked, wondering what his friend meant by that.

Sherlock crossed the room and stopped in front of Rose's bedroom door.

"Sherlock?"

The detective ran his hand along the door above the handle.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked.

John just stood there watching him, still holding the other door open.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm…checking…"

Sherlock trailed off, leaning his cheek against the door as if he was listening to something.

"What the hell are you doing?" John snapped, throwing the door closed and striding across the room, wondering if this was going to be the second time he punched his friend. "Are you listening while she changes her clothes?"

"She isn't-"

John grabbed Sherlock's shoulders and pulled him away from the door.

"I can't believe you!" John growled, fighting the urge to throttle his friend.

"What's gotten into you?"

"What's gotten into you? Listening to her get undressed-"

"What? I wasn't listening to her get undressed, John!"

"Really? You had your ear pressed up to her bedroom door for another reason?"

"Yes."

John stared at him for a minute. He seemed sincere, but then he'd just had his ear…

"Then what the hell were you doing?"

"Listening-"

"That's exactly what I said you were doing!"

Sherlock made his way back to the door during their conversation and John had about half a second to realize what his friend was doing before Sherlock's shoulder connected with the door, wood splintered and the door flew open.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, not sure if he should cover his eyes, his friend's eye, or punch Sherlock in the face. Politeness won out and he covered his eye.

"Just as I thought!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Oh, god, she's naked isn't she. Look, Rose, I'm sorry I didn't-"

"She's gone. Out the window," Sherlock interupted.

"What?"

John looked, half expecting her to be standing in the room naked, but she hadn't screamed. His friend was right. The side table was stationed under the window, which was open.

"How the hell did she fit through that window?"

"The question is…Who is she sneaking out to meet?"

"Sorry?"

"That message wasn't from a wrong number."

"Who do you think it was from?"

"Moriarty."

"Moriarty? Are you sure?"

"Her phone's new. I'd say she got it today and since she hasn't tried to contact her family or anyone from her past and we seem to be the only people she knows here then who would have her number?"

"You think she gave her number to Moriarty?"

"No, I think Moriarty either took or searched for her number. He's the only person she crossed paths with outside of us."

"And you think she ran out to meet him?"

"I believe so."

"Why?"

"I don't have an answer for that question."

John stared at the open window. She was meeting Moriarty. Why? Was Mycroft right? Where they working together?

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.