After a long walk with Mary, by the lane across the market, I was thinking to pay a visit to Sherlock's. It has been a while since our last adventure and every nerve of the army man inside me had a tendency to detonate. I was, of course, worried about him. He wouldn't last a day without some suspenseful case. Even though a pretty lady held my hand as I walked, my thoughts were dwelling around Bakers street."You don't need to pretend, John," She said, smiling.
I acted surprised as if I didn't know what she was speaking of. "I can see that look on your face, John. Just go! I'll show myself home," said she, patted on my shoulder and stole the keys to my ride. "Take a cab, if you will," she said, with a quirk. As I waved my hand, a cabbie steered his wheels towards me. He raised an eyebrow, so as to ask where I wanted a ride to."Umm-221 B, Bakers Street, mate," said I. He signalled to me to hop on the back seat. I thought that he was dumb until he spoke up, "You have a case?"
"Sorry?"
"A case, mate; that's what people go to Sherlock's for, right? He won't see you if you're a fan," he said, looking at me through the rear-view mirror. Sherlock's address was a bookmark to every cabbie in London."No-no, I'm not at all a fan," I reassured him."What is your case, then? Is it robbery? Or murder? Or rape? Cheating wife? I don't think he'll do cheating wife cases," he spoke indiscreetly. I could make out that he was sad about that.I wanted to shoot the cabbie in his brains, but Sherlock would find out somehow. I cleared my throat and said, "I don't have a case either. I'm his companion, John Watson"The tire screeched as he applied brakes forcefully. My head bumped against the driver's seat. He undid his seat belt and had a closer look at my face. "Blimey me," he yelled, "Mr. Watson is in my Cab".I wanted to slap my face as hard as I could. Awkwardly staring at me through the mirror, he drove me to Bakers street. I stepped down and paid my check. As I was about to enter 221B, he said, "I know he doesn't do cheating wife cases, but, could you convince him to look at mine?" I nodded my head and marched up the stairs. The door was open. Sherlock sat in his spot, deeply thinking of something.
There were unclean dishes around him. A blanket fell on the floor, below Sherlock's feet. "Tea, John; make it strong," he said aloud, looking at the kitchen. Again, he went back to his thoughts. It was a regular drill to me. As I marched towards the kitchen, Molly came out, holding a cup of tea. That was however, something disturbing.As he grabbed it into his hands, he said without looking at her, "Thank you John". Molly walked towards me, signalling not to speak a thing. She grabbed me through the door to the next room and locked us inside."He's been thinking of something from the past four days. The only time he gets out of the couch is when he has to use the loo. Even there he spends hours together and then returns to the couch. He keeps calling me John and he didn't even look at me for once," she whispered, "Mrs. Hudson tried to talk to him and he almost bit her hand"
"Why didn't you call me?" I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and turned pale. I walked out of the room, looked at Sherlock and yelled his name. He didn't move an inch. "I'm thinking, John. Thanks for the tea," he said, still looking at the wall across.
"He just wouldn't come back," Molly complained.
"I know exactly how to bring him out of his clustered thoughts," I said in a low voice and then raised my pitch, "Sherlock, there's been a murder. Even Lestrade couldn't solve it".Sherlock jumped on his feet and looked at me with a ton of enthusiasm on his face. He even hurt his feet to the table in front of him, in the process."When, where and how mysterious," he cried, "It's been too long, John. When did you get here? I thought you were with Mary."
"Then who were you talking to?" I asked.
"I wasn't talking, John".
"You were. You even bit Mrs. Hudson's hand".
"No, it was Moriarty's hand, in my mind palace," he said, with an evil smile on his face.
I sighed and said, "What were you thinking of?"
"All the cases we solved, John. I was making out different possibilities for the culprits to get away with their crimes. They're all dumb, John, so dumb. I can make a million ways in each case to get away with what they did," he said joyfully.
"Utterly fantastic," said I, "when was the last time you got out of 221 B?"
"The last time we went out to solve that case of sex-abuse-dungeon, John. AT least, I suppose that was when," he replied, tightening his loose robe. Taking another sip of the tea from his cup, he made an awkward expression. "This isn't John's tea," he cried, "Molly, you made me tea?".
"You..." Molly stammered, "You said that it's nice before".
"No, I didn't;" Sherlock argued, "Now I have to brush my teeth". Molly was deeply hurt. Then again, it was usual for her to hear rude things from Sherlock. "John" he said, turning towards me, "You said that there's a case...what case?" I gulped. Quite recently, Sherlock had started biting people, when he turned mad. There hasn't been a case since a long time. His eyes turned curious, waiting for my reply. "I'll tell you soon," I lied, "let's have lunch.
Sherlock came closer to me, sniffed my arms and chest, and looked me from top to bottom. That was utterly awkward. I thanked God as it didn't happen in front of Mary. "You're lying to me J-A-W-N," he cried, "Why would you do that? You spent the time earlier with Mary. Now, where would that be? Of course, yes, yes, in the market lane. She took the car back to your place while you hired a cab to travel here. Oh, you've changed the soap brand that you usually use. You never met Lestrade. It's a lie. There's no bloody case! The game isn't on J-A-W-N".
I knew his ways. Yet I was curious to know how the deuce he deduced all that. Clearing my throat, I demanded an explanation. He gave that evil smile that he usually gives, when he proves himself to be cleverer than the world.
"The perfume on you John, as I sniffed, seemed to be of Mary's. As you aren't completely gay, it must've gotten on you when you probably held her," he started narrating his deductions. It was true, that Mary and I walked hand in hand. Sherlock continued, "And why would she put on such a costly perfume, unless you were taking her out? Speaking of where it could be, look at you shoes, John. Your entire apparel looks classy, but the shoes have smudges of mud on it. As I look outside, it hadn't rained in a while. Where else would you get into a swamp with your wife, unless it is the market? Such a messy place! My bedroom is cleaner than that stupid thing. Coming to the car thing, you have a bad habit of playing with your keys in this hall. If not, you put it in the right pocket of you pant. Look at it John. It's skin tight and there's no trace of keys. Henceforth, your wife took the ride, as it is long way back to home. And you, of course, should've hired a cab to get here."
"I could've taken a bus ride," I interrupted. He laughed hysterically. "Aww, J-A-W-N; have you been sharing Anderson's brain? The buses don't have a route via Market lane. You're too lazy to walk down three streets to catch a bus. You definitely took a cab. Now, about the soap; you've taken a new brand hence overworked it on your skin, which left quite a reasonable residue on the joints of your fingers. It is human nature to overdo new things. About Lestrade, You'd come right away to me in case there was a case, instead of walking with your wife. You didn't meet him after leaving your wife either," he concluded, looking at his phone."How?" I asked. "What?" he asked back.
"You said that I didn't meet Lestrade after leaving my wife...how?"
"Child's play, John," he cried, "The market is not re-opened in the afternoon until 3. You should've roamed with your wife for at least half an hour. Lestrade has to submit his weekly report at the Head Office by 4 in the evening, every Saturday, as my phone tells, which is today. It is 4:15, as of now and there's no way you could've made to Lestrade's Jurisdiction." He completed his plot.
"Wonderful," I cried, "as usual"."Now, Johnﾅat some point you must learn to stop saying that," Sherlock said with a quirk, "I need a damn bloody case".
"But what was that about me not being completely gay? I don't recall being partially gay, Sherlock," I yelled at him. Molly smiled widely.
"Oh, I speak a tongue called future too. Just wait." he replied, looking into air.
I absolutely didn't want to hear any more of what he had to say. "Umm if you don't mind, there's a case of a cabbie. He thinks that his wife is cheating on him. Would you, look into that?" I asked him curiously. Though he had no interest, he nodded sadly, as he had no other ones in his hand.
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