Watson and the Sound - Ch. 6

The phone, laying on the end table, rang for the second time.  John raised his eyebrow.  "Psychic…well, that's new," he said.

Sherlock gave him a sidelong glance.  "Really, John?  Don't be stupid.  The news has been all over the telly.  Psychic…"

John shook his head and sat down in one of the old armchairs.  "And I suppose you're going to tell me that you actually have a good reason for using all the tea."

"Quite.  I had to study the drying process of teabags when left in the trash.  It could be important in determining time of death, and—"

"Phone," John said, the device ringing for a third time.

"Oh, all right."  Sherlock grabbed John's cell phone and interrupted the fourth ring.  "Yes.  Yes, of course.  I know.  Straight away."

Sherlock clicked the cell phone shut and tossed it to John.  "There's been a break-in.  The likes of which they've never seen," he said, barely able to contain his gleeful smile.  He leapt to his feet.

"You want me to come along, then?" John said, rubbing his temples.  This headache…

"Of course.  It's nice to have someone along who's not a completely daft."

"Thanks," John said flatly.  "Just let me grab my jumper."

Sherlock started pacing energetically, a little excited hop in his step.  "Yes, of course, right.  Be quick about it!"

John headed upstairs, leaving his flat mate to move about the room frantically.  John shook his head.  He always seemed to get so excited over such crimes.  As he neared his bedroom, he stumbled a bit.  His head was pounding.  He paused to regain his composure, then continued into his bedroom.

The beige jumper was crumbled up under the chair.  As John pulled it out, the door downstairs slammed shut.  John grimaced.  Of course.  Sherlock was quick, but it made his patience short.  John pulled on the jumper.