(It was another chilly night as I enter the door of 221B carrying all the grocery bags in my hand and managing to open the door.
I step inside, kick the door close behind me, and go into the kitchen. John was standing there with Mrs. Hudson talking about the most random of things and laughing, they both turn around and greet me with a smile)

(Y/N): Hey you guys

John: Hey...you bought alot of stuff

(Y/N): Well I did promise Mrs. Hudson I'll do the shopping from time to time

Mrs. Hudson: Oh thank you so much dearie, my back was feeling absolutely horrible today

(Y/N): It's not a problem at all

(I smile at them and they did the same)

(Y/N): So John, how was the date with Sarah? Tell me everything!

John: Well...she did invite me over to her flat but....

(Y/N): Why the hell are you here then?

John: We're uh.....taking it slow

(Y/N): Oh come on John...

Mrs. Hudson: You don't really like making the first move do you, John?

John: No, no I do make the first move

(Y/N): Nah....you really don't

John: What? How-?

(Mrs. Hudson and I start giggling, but then she leaves the kitchen)

John: Oh this is very cheering, thanks alot

(Y/N): Don't worry, be sure to come to me next time for better dating advice

John: Heh....yeah...you dated anyone?

(Y/N): Uhh...yeah...some time ago

(John looks at me suspiciously)

(Y/N): Oh please..I have, okay?

John: Right...

(I hit him on the shoulder and he starts laughing when suddenly, we hear gunshots coming from upstairs, Sherlock's flat)

John: What the-?

(Y/N): Sherlock!

(John and I run up the stairs as quickly as we can and we hear more gunshots, the sound was too loud so we had to cover our ears. Here we thought Sherlock was in some kind of danger but that psychotic...ahhh..no...high-functioning sociopath as he likes to call himself was shooting the wall with a gun while sitting in his arm chair, dresses in his blue night gown)

Above the sofa, a smiley face has been spray-painted on the wallpaper using a can of the yellow paint which was so frequently used in the "Blind Banker" case. The can is standing on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He points the pistol towards the smiley face and - without even looking in that direction - fires two shots at it. Sherlock turns his head to look at the face and fires a third shot which either misses the smile or was deliberately aimed to form a 'nose' for the face. John enters and yells at him

John: What the hell are you doing?

(Y/N): Have you gone insane?! The neighbors might call up the police!

Sherlock (sulkily): Bored.

John (more quietly, squinting at him in disbelief): What?

Sherlock (loudly): Bored!

(He springs up out of the chair. John immediately recoils and covers his ears with his hands as do I.)

John: No ...

(Y/N): Oh God....

(Sherlock switches the pistol to his right hand and turns towards the smiley face, firing at it again. He then swings his arm around his back, twists slightly to his right and fires at the wall from behind his back.)

Sherlock (angrily): Bored! Bored!

(As he brings his arm back around, John hurries into the room and Sherlock continues to glare at the smiley face but allows John to snatch the pistol from his hand. John quickly slides the clip out of the gun while Sherlock walks towards the sofa.)

Sherlock (sulkily): Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them.

(John locks the pistol into a small safe on the dining table and then straightens up. I take off my jacket and scarf and put it on the table)

(Y/N): And your taking your frustration out on the wall??

Sherlock (running his fingers along the painted smile): Ah, the wall had it coming.

(He turns sideways and dramatically flops down onto the sofa on his back, his head landing on a cushion at one end and his feet digging into the arm of the sofa at the end nearest the windows.)

John (taking off his coat): What about that Russian case?

Sherlock: Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time.

John (sarcastically): Ah, shame! would you like some pasta?

(Y/N): Love some, John. Thanks

(I say as I sit on John's armchair as he walks into the kitchen)

(He walks into the kitchen and throws up his arms in despair at the mess on the table which greets him. He heads towards the fridge.)

John: Anything in? We're starving.

(He opens the fridge door.)

John: Oh, f...

(Y/N): What??

John: . . . . . . .

(Y/N): John what's wrong?

John: It's a head.

(Y/N): A what?!

(He turns and calls out.)

John: A severed head!

Sherlock: Just tea for me, thanks.

John (walking back into the living room): No, there's a head in the fridge.

Sherlock (calmly): Yes.

John: A bloody head!

(Y/N): There's a freaking human head inside the fridge??

John: Yes..

(I look at Sherlock)

(Y/N): Sherlock...

Sherlock: Oh God....(He says as if he knows what I'm about to tell him)

(Y/N): That better not be the head of Jonathan Byers

John: Who??

(Y/N): *Sighs* Molly and I were studying some bodies at the morgue today and apparently, one of the bodies was missing a head...I wonder who got it and put it inside the fridge where we store food..

Sherlock: Some psychopath... probably

(Y/N): Oh no...I was thinking someone who is more of a high-functioning sociopath

(He looks at me for a second before sighing and closing his eyes again)

(Y/N): You can't do that, Sherlock

Sherlock (stroppily): Well, where else was I supposed to put it? (He looks round at John.) You don't mind, do you?

(John holds out his hands despairingly and looks back towards the fridge.)

Sherlock: I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death.

(He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of a nearby laptop.)

Sherlock: I see you've written up the taxi driver case.

John (throwing one last glance at the fridge): Uh, yes.

(He walks over to Sherlock's armchair and sits down.)

Sherlock: "A Study in Pink." Nice!

(Y/N): Oh yeah I read it. Loved it John

John: Thank you .Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone - there was a lot of pink.*Looks at Sherlock* Did you like it?

(Even as John has been speaking, Sherlock has picked up a magazine from the coffee table and he now flips it open and addresses his answer to the pages.)

Sherlock: Erm, no.

John: Why not? I thought you'd be flattered.

Sherlock (lowering the magazine and glaring at him): Flattered? (He raises his index fingers and narrates a section of the blog.) "Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things."

(Y/N): Hehe....

John: Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a ...

Sherlock (interrupting): Oh, you meant "spectacularly ignorant" in a nice way! And then this one over here has been writing fanfictions on Wattpad...

(Y/N): What?? No! I'm writing a novel Abt my time here, solving cases with you guys and people love it!

Sherlock: Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister ...

John(quietly): I know ...

Sherlock: ... or who's sleeping with who ..

John (softly): Whether the Earth goes round the Sun ...

Sherlock: Not that again. It's not important.

John: Not impor...
(He shifts his position in the chair to face Sherlock.)

John: It's primary school
stuff. How can you not know that?

Sherlock (pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes): Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it.

John: "Deleted it"?

(Y/N): What does that mean??

Sherlock (swinging his legs around to the floor and sitting up to face John and me): Listen. (He points to his head with one finger.) This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful ... really useful

(He grimaces.)

Sherlock: Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?

(John looks at him for a moment, trying to bite his lip but then can't contain himself.)

John: But it's the solar system!
(Sherlock briefly buries his head in his hands.)

Sherlock: Oh, hell! What does that matter?!

(He looks at John in frustration.)

Sherlock: So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear ... (he flails his hands around beside his head while narrating the line from the childen's poem) ... it wouldn't make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots.

(He ruffles his hair with both hands, then glares at John.)

Sherlock: Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world.

(Petulantly shoving the magazine across the coffee table, he lies down on the sofa again, turning over with his back to John and pulling his dressing gown around him while curling up into a ball. John looks away and purses his lips. The front door downstairs opens and closes. John stands up and walks towards the living room door.)

(Y/N): John...

(He doesn't stop and starts to walk out the door)

Sherlock (looking over his shoulder): Where are you going?

John (tightly, putting on his jacket): Out. I need some air.

(He heads for the stairs, which Mrs Hudson is just coming up.)

John: 'Scuse me, Mrs ...

Mrs Hudson: Oh, sorry, love!

John: Sorry.

(Angrily, Sherlock turns his face away again, pulling the cushion under his head nearer to the back of the sofa and curling up even tighter. I smile in delight looking at him.since he was mad at John and it was kind of cute. Even I like to get him mad sometimes, his reactions are priceless. Mrs Hudson chuckles at John as he passes her but then turns and looks at him in concern as he hurries down the stairs. She comes to the living room door and knocks

Mrs Hudson: Ooh-ooh!

(Sherlock stretches his legs out straight and turns his head enough to acknowledge her existence, but then looks away again. Mrs Hudson carries a couple of shopping bags into the kitchen.)

Mrs Hudson: Did they two have a little domestic?

(Y/N): *Smiles* Don't they always?

(Flailing to get himself upright, Sherlock stands up off the sofa and takes the shortest route to his destination, walking over the coffee table and going to the left-hand window just as the downstairs door opens and closes.)

Mrs Hudson: Ooh, it's a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more.

(Sherlock watches John as he crosses the street and heads in the general direction of away.)

Sherlock: Look at that, Mrs Hudson. (He scans the street.) Quiet, calm, peaceful. (He grimaces and drags in a long breath.) Isn't it hateful?

(Y/N): Sherlock...

(Mrs Hudson has unloaded some items from her shopping bags and now brandishes a receipt at Sherlock before putting it down on the kitchen table.)

Mrs Hudson: Oh, I'm sure something'll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder - that'll cheer you up.

Sherlock (wistfully): Can't come too soon.

(Y/N): You didn't have to be like that with him, you know?

Sherlock: I was being honest

(Y/N): Well you and I both know that there is always a thick layer of disruptive behavior around your honesty

Sherlock (smirks): Two months and you talk like you know me everything about me

(Y/N): Not everything but considering that I do live under you, two months was good enough to know you better but it actually took me two minutes to know who you really are

Sherlock (in disbelief): Really?

(I get up from the chair and stand behind him)

(Y/N): Yes Sherlock... really

(He smiles a little but I could hear him whisper)

Sherlock(softly): Then you have no idea....

(Just then Mrs. Hudson was Abt to walk out the room when she spotted the smiley face on the wall)

Mrs Hudson (stopping when she spots the damaged wall): Hey. What've you done to my bloody wall?!

(Sherlock quirks a smile and turns around to admire his handiwork.)

Mrs Hudson (angrily): I'm putting this on your rent, young man!

(She storms off down the stairs as Sherlock smiles hysterically at his artwork and then sighs and then turns to look at me, clearly signalling that he is bored as hell. Suddenly a massive explosion goes off in the street as the blast breaks all the windows and the glass shatters everywhere. Sherlock hurls forward to the ground because of the pressured blast air from behind him as I also fall down on my back when something, probably a sharp piece of glass, hits my head. I groan as I fall down, even more so, because of the fact that Sherlock falls on top of me. Slowly my vision fades and it all turns to black

~3rd P.O.V~

(Sherlock groans and tries to get up from the floor, only when he notices that he had a soft landing. He continues to groan in pain and squints his eyes and his vision is blurry and his ears are not letting any sound to enter. He looks down and sees a woman, only when he realized that it was you he fell on. His eyes widen in horror when he sees your head tilted sideways as blood from your forehead travels down to your nose and to the ground)

Sherlock: Mrs....Mrs. Hudson!!!

(The next day, I walk back to Baker Street thru the media and the local people standing on the street to observe the blasted site. It was a gas leak apparently, from the building right opposite to ours)

(I just came back from the clinic to get 8 stitches on my forehead. It hurts alot though but at least I didn't die...)

(I make my way thru 221B and run up the stairs. I enter the living room after gazing at the broken windows before I see John was sitting on the couch, who gets up and walks towards me after he sees me)

John: (Y/N), My God...are you okay?

(I look at Sherlock and he was dresses in his black coat and his purple shirt, crossing his legs, and playing the strings of his violin like nothing at all happened, well at least he didn't get injured. And in John's chair was a slightly older man than Sherlock, sitting with his legs crossed, dressed in his suit and has a cane in his hand. He looks round to meet my face and gives a small, rather forced, smile)

John: Hey you okay?

(Y/N): Yeah I'm fine John...eight stitches won't kill me...

(Sherlock looks at me with a poker face and asks)

Sherlock: Are you alright?

(I nod at him to reassure him that I was okay, he nods back and looks petulantly back at the unknown man)

Sherlock: I can't.

Man: "Can't"?

Sherlock: The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time.

(John looks across to him in disbelief.)

Man: Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance.

Sherlock (sulkily flicking his fingers across the strings): How's the diet?

Man (refusing to rise to the implied insult): Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him, Miss. (L/N)?

(Y/N): Sorry?

(He looks round at me again before standing up and walking my way. He reaches out his hand to shake mine and so I did)

Man: Mycroft Holmes. Heard a pleasant amount of....talks....about you

(He looks round to Sherlock but he avoids eye contact with him)

(Y/N): Wait...did you say "Holmes"?

John: (Y/N)..

(Y/N): Your...related to Sherlock?

Sherlock(whispers): Mm.. Unfortunately...

Mycroft: Well I am his older brother

(Y/N): Your his brother??

Mycroft: Is it that shocking?

(Y/N): No...No...Well...in the past two months he hasn't ever... mentioned you

Mycroft: Naturally

(He walks back to Sherlock, but Sherlock does his best to ignore his brother's existence)

Mycroft: I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent.

Sherlock: If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?

Mycroft: No-no-no-no-no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time - not with the Korean elections so ...

(He trails off as John and I turn towards him in surprise and Sherlock raises his head from looking at his violin.)

Mycroft: Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?

(He smiles humourlessly in a clear message to forget what he just said.)

Mycroft: Besides, a case like this - it requires ... (he grimaces in distaste) ... legwork.

(Sherlock mis-plucks one of his strings, an irritated look on his face. He turns to John, who is absently rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.)

Sherlock: How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?

Mycroft (consulting his pocket watch and not even looking at John): Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa.

(Sherlock briefly looks John up and down.)

Sherlock: Oh yes, of course.

John (incredulously): How ...? Oh, never mind

(John sits on the couch as I lean against the door)

Mycroft: Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals.

(Mycroft looks at me)

Mycroft: And also...after you and him became.....well.... infatuated

(I squint my eyebrows in confusion as Sherlock throws him a dark look.)

(Infatuated?? What the hell does he mean??)

Mycroft : What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine.

John: We're never bored.

Mycroft (smiling condescendingly): Good! That's good, isn't it?

(Again Sherlock glares at him. Mycroft walks up at him as Sherlock picks up his bow and whips one end through the air in front of him. Picking up a folder from the table beside him, Mycroft steps forward and offers the folder to his brother but Sherlock just looks back at him stubbornly. Grimacing and poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, Mycroft turns and offers the folder to John instead.)

Mycroft: Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends.

(Looking startled, John takes the folder.)

Mycroft: A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in.

(Y/N): Did he jump in front of the train?

Mycroft: Seems the logical assumption.

(Y/N) (quirking a brief smile): But ...?

Mycroft: "But"?

John: Well, I don't think you'd be here consulting with your detective brother if this was just an accident, Mr. Holmes

(Sherlock, who is now applying rosin to his bow with a small cloth, smirks noisily.)

Mycroft: Mycroft...please.

(I nod at him)

Mycroft: The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system - the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called.

(He looks at Sherlock while John starts flicking through the folder.)

Mycroft: The plans for it were on a memory stick.

(John sniggers quietly.)

John: That wasn't very clever.

(Sherlock smiles in agreement.)

Mycroft (to John): It's not the only copy.

John: Oh.

Mycroft: But it is secret. And missing.

John: Top secret?

Mycroft: Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands.

(He turns back to his brother.)

Mycroft: You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you.

(Oh dear....)

(Breathing in sharply through his nose, Sherlock raises the violin to his shoulder, ready to play. He looks calmly at his brother.)

Sherlock: I'd like to see you try.

(Okay.....)

Mycroft (leaning down to him a little in an attempt to look more threatening): Think it over.

(Sherlock stares back at him, unimpressed. Mycroft turns and walks over to John, offering him his hand to shake.)

Mycroft: Goodbye, John.

(Politely, John stands and shakes his hand. Mycroft smiles at him creepily.)

Mycroft: See you very soon.

(John nods at him as Mycroft walks towards me and I step away from the door for him to go out, but he stops to look at me)

Mycroft: It was a pleasure meeting you....(Y/N)

(He says it in the most unconvincing tone ever but I still decide to shake his hands and manage a small smile)

(John tries not to look nervous. As Mycroft heads back towards the chair to pick up his coat, Sherlock begins to repeatedly play a short irritating sequence of notes. John and I frown across to him but Sherlock continues to play until Mycroft has left the room and is on the stairs. Grimacing in the direction of his brother's back, Sherlock finishes his playing and lowers the violin, still looking annoyed. John sits back down on the coffee table and I sit on John's armchair, John waits until Mycroft has reached the ground floor and is out of earshot before he speaks.)

John: Why'd you lie?

(Sherlock looks across to him as the front door bangs shut.)

John: You've got nothing on - not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?

Sherlock(shrugging): Why shouldn't I?

(Y/N): Wow.....

(He looks at me)

(Y/N): Sibling rivalry...of course you didn't tell me you had a brother

Sherlock: You didn't need to know about him

(Y/N): Right....

(Sherlock opens his mouth but before he can deny everything his phone starts to ring. He irritably whips his bow down again, puts it on the seat beside him and fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket.)

Sherlock (into phone): Sherlock Holmes.

(He listens for a moment, then his expression intensifies.)

Sherlock: Of course. How could I refuse?

Sherlock: Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?

John: If you want me to.

Sherlock: Of course.

(Picking up his Coat, he turns back to him.)

Sherlock: I'd be lost without my blogger.

(John shares a small smile. Sherlock looks at me)

Sherlock: You coming?

(I stand up and take a few steps towards them)

(Y/N): God yeah...I need to get out of this flat....

(He smiles in satisfaction before heading out and John and I follow the tall detective)

After a taxi ride during, the boys and I arrive at New Scotland Yard, and enter the main floor. Officers were walking around, everyone was busy)

(Holy shit...a real police station)

(A man with grey hair walks over to Sherlock, but gets distracted when he sees me)

Lestrade: Who's she?

Sherlock: She works for me

(Y/N): I work with him

(The three of them look at me for a while and I shrug)

(Y/N): And...live under him...

(I reach out my hand to the inspector and introduce myself)

(Y/N): (Y/N) (L/N)

Letsrade: Ohh! Detective Inspector Lestrade. Made a new partner, eh?

(He looks at Sherlock but he sighs and looks away)

(Later on we follow Lestrade to his office as he speaks)

Lestrade: You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones.

Sherlock: Obviously.

Lestrade: You'll love this. That explosion ...

Sherlock (briefly exchanging glares with Detective Sergeant Donovan as he walks past her desk): Gas leak, yes?

Lestrade: No.

Sherlock: No?

Lestrade: No. Made to look like one.

John: What?

(Y/N): Oh bloody hell...I almost died...

(We are now inside Lestrade's office and Sherlock stops and stares down at a white envelope lying on a desk.)

Lestrade: Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box - a very strong box - and inside it was this.

(He points to what Sherlock's looking at.)

Sherlock: You haven't opened it?

Lestrade: It's addressed to you, isn't it?

(Sherlock reaches towards the envelope.)

Lestrade: We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped.

Sherlock (hesitating slightly): How reassuring!

(He picks up the envelope and takes it across the room to another table which has an anglepoise lamp on it. Holding the envelope close to the bulb he examines both sides carefully. On the front in elegant handwriting are the words "Sherlock Holmes - by hand.")

Sherlock: Nice stationery. Bohemian.

Lestrade: What?

Sherlock: From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?

Lestrade: No.

Sherlock (looking closely at the writing): She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold - iridium nib.

John: "She"?

Sherlock: Obviously.

John (struggling not to sigh): Obviously!

(Sherlock picks up a letter opener from the desk and carefully slits the envelope open. He looks inside and his mouth opens a little in surprise as he reaches in and takes out a pink iPhone.)

(Y/N): What the hell...?

John (shocked): But that's - that's the phone, the pink phone.

Lestrade: What, from the Study in Pink?

Sherlock: Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like ...

(He stops when he realises what Lestrade just said. He turns to face him. Donovan has come into the room to put some files down on a desk near the door.)

Sherlock: The Study in Pink? You read his blog?

Lestrade: Course I read his blog! We even read her Wattpad novel! We all do. D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun? And do you still believe Jean Critien is the Prime Minister?

(Sherlock looks at me with a dark look and I shrug apologetically at him. He turns and looks at the phone again)

(Donovan sniggers loudly. Sherlock, who is taking off his gloves, glares at her while John purses his lips in embarrassment. Donovan leaves the room and Sherlock turns his concentration back to the phone.)

(Well... clearly they don't like each other)

Sherlock: It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new.

(He's looking at the connection sockets, none of which have scratches around them.)

Sherlock: Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership.

(He throws an accusatory look at John, who does his best to ignore it. Sherlock switches on the phone and immediately gets a voice alert.)

VOICE ALERT: You have one new message.

(The message plays but there is no voice - just the unmistakeable sound of the Greenwich Time Signal. However, while the "Greenwich pips" - as they're more generally called - consist of five short pips and one longer tone, this recording has only four short pips and the longer one. Strangely, nobody ever comments on this.)

John: Is that it?

Sherlock: No. That's not it.

(A photograph has also been uploaded to the phone)

(Sherlock's eyes widen a little in surprise as he sighs heavily before looking at me. I go beside him and look at the photograph. It was a photo of my flat.)

(Y/N): What on Earth....?

Lestrade: Where is that??

(Y/N): T-That's my flat....my room..

John: What?

Lestrade: What the hell are we supposed to make of that? (Y/N)'s flat and the bloody Greenwich pips!

Sherlock (gazing thoughtfully into the distance): It's a warning.

John: A warning?

Sherlock: Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's gonna happen again.

(He briefly looks down at the photo again, then brandishes the phone at the others as he starts to leave the office.)

Sherlock: We have to go to your flat

(Y/N): Yeah... definitely

(We start to follow him)

John (following him): H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?

Sherlock (turning back and raising his hands dramatically): Boom!

(He heads off with John and me behind him. Lestrade grabs his coat and hurries after them.)

BAKER STREET. A taxi pulls up outside 221 and Sherlock, John, Lestrade and I get out. Sherlock unlocks the front door and leads the way inside, bypassing the stairs and heading along the corridor towards Mrs Hudson's front door. Just as he reaches my door he stops and turns to me and holds out his hand

(Y/N): Oh Mrs. Hudson has my keys

(He looks at me)

Sherlock: What??

(Y/N): What? She agreed to clean my flat today...

(He grimaces before calling out)

Sherlock: Mrs. Hudson!

Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson opens the front door of 221C and hands Sherlock a set of keys. He has been examining the padlock attached to the other door and now takes the keys and begins to unlock it.

Mrs Hudson: You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat. Glad that (Y/N) lives here now..

Sherlock (looking closely at the door's keyhole): The door's been opened recently.

Mrs Hudson: No, can't be. That's the only key. (Y/N) didn't even come back here since yesterday

(Sherlock turns the key and pulls open the door. He immediately goes inside and John and Lestrade follow, taking little or no notice of Mrs H as she continues rambling on.)

Mrs. Hudson : I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls ...

(I also go inside and the close the door. Sorry Mrs. Hudson...)

(We walk inside my living room, I looked around to see if anything was unusual but everything was at it's place, only at the middle of the room, on my carpet, were a pair of shoes)

John: Shoes...

(Y/N): And they're not mine...

(Sherlock starts to walk towards them but John holds out a cautionary hand towards him.)

John: He's a bomber, remember.

(Sherlock stops for a moment, then continues slowly towards the trainers. He crouches down, then puts his hands on the floor and leans forward. Lowering his body down he moves closer to the shoes. Just as his nose is almost touching them, a phone rings. Sherlock jumps, closes his eyes momentarily and then stands up, pulls off his glove and takes the pink iPhone from his coat pocket and looks at the caller I.D. It reads, "NUMBER BLOCKED". He pauses for a second, then switches on the speaker, holding the phone a few inches in front of his mouth.)

Sherlock (softly): Hello?

(A female voice draws in a shaky breath before speaking tearfully.)

WOMAN's VOICE: H-hello ... sexy.

(John, Lestrade and I exchange puzzled looks as the woman sobs.)

Sherlock: Who's this?

WOMAN's VOICE (tearfully): I've ... sent you ... a little puzzle ... just to say hi.

Sherlock: Who's talking? Why are you crying?

WOMAN's VOICE (shakily and full of tears): I-I'm not ... crying ... I'm typing ... and this ... stupid ... bitch ... is reading it out.

(She sobs again. Sherlock gazes thoughtfully into the distance.)

Sherlock (softly): The curtain rises.

John: What?

Sherlock: Nothing.

(Y/N): No, what did you mean?

Sherlock (half turning his head towards me): I've been expecting this for some time.

WOMAN: Twelve hours to solve ... my puzzle, Sherlock ... or I'm going ...to be...so... naughty..

(The phone goes dead as Sherlock raises his head.
Naughty?? By that...I think the bomber is going bomb someplace else)

(I breathe heavily in fear as Sherlock looks at me, and I can tell by the look on his face that he knows what I was thinking)

(If someone got in here with absolutely no problem...then he or she can do it again...and I live here....and it's not safe now)

(We were later at Bart's Hospital.
Sherlock is sitting at a bench looking into a microscope while, beside him, a computer screen shows that a scanner of some sort is running tests. John is wandering up and down on the other side of the bench, as I also walk around in exasperation)

John: So, who d'you suppose it was?

(A phone trills a text alert.)

Sherlock (absently, not reacting to the alert): Hmm?

John: The woman on the phone - the crying woman.

Sherlock: Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there.

John(exasperated): For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads.

Sherlock: You're not going to be much use to her.

(He glances across to the scanner as it continues throwing up "NO MATCH" results, then looks back into the microscope.)

(Y/N): Are-are they trying to trace it, trace the call?

Sherlock: The bomber's too smart for that.

(The same phone as before trills another text alert.)

Sherlock: Pass me my phone, (Y/N)

(I look around the room.)

(Y/N):Um.. Where is it?

Sherlock: Jacket.

(Y/N): The jacket your wearing right now?

Sherlock: Hmm

(I sigh in annoyance as I walk over beside him and put my hand in his jacket forcefully and intentionally, to get his phone)

Sherlock (angrily, still not looking up):Careful.

(I was just about to hold onto my temper and pull out the phone and looks at it.)

(Y/N): Text from your brother, Mycroft

Sherlock: Delete it.

(Y/N): Delete it?

Sherlock: Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it.

(I look at the message again, which reads:

RE: BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS
Any progress on Andrew
West's death?
Mycroft

(Y/N): Well, he thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important. Come on Sherlock...

(Sherlock raises his head in exasperation.)

Sherlock: Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?

(Y/N) (sighing tiredly): His what?

Sherlock: Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?

(He looks back into the microscope again.)

(John walks over and stands on the other side, beside Sherlock)

John: Try and remember there's a woman here who might die.

Sherlock: What for?

(He looks up at John.)

Sherlock: This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?

(God Sherlock ..)

(John looks away in disbelief. Unmoved, Sherlock looks back into the microscope but just then the computer beeps a result.)

Sherlock (delighted): Ah!

(He looks across to the screen which is flashing "SEARCH COMPLETE." At the same moment Molly comes in the door.)

Molly: Any luck?

Sherlock (triumphantly): Oh, yes!

Molly: Hey (Y/N)!

(Y/N): Hey Mol...

(She gives me a quick hug and tries to look at Sherlock's screen when a man in his thirties, wearing slacks and a T-shirt, comes in the door and then stops apologetically.)

Jim: Oh, sorry. I didn't ...

Molly: Jim! Hi!

(Jim makes as if to leave the room but Molly stops him.)

Molly: Come in! Come in!

(Sherlock looks over at her briefly, running his eyes down her body and apparently making an instant deduction, then looks back into the microscope. Molly makes introductions as Jim closes the door and walks over to her.)

(I whisper to Molly)

(Y/N): Is that the Jim you were telling me about?

(She smiles in delight an answers)

Molly: Oh! Ya!

(Jim was standing beside Molly as he gives me a small smile and I return one as well)

Molly: Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes. This is my new partner working with me here, (Y/N)

Jim: Ah!

(John turns towards them, and Molly looks at him blankly.)

Molly (apologetically): And, uh ... sorry.

John: John Watson. Hi.

Jim: Hi.

(His eyes are locked on Sherlock's back as he gazes at him admiringly. He speaks in a casual London accent.)

Jim: So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?

(He walks closer to Sherlock, forcing John to step out of his way.)

Molly: Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance.

(She and Jim giggle. Sherlock glances briefly round at Jim before returning to look into the 'scope.)

Sherlock: Gay.

(Molly's smile fades.)

Molly: Sorry, what?

(Sherlock raises his head as he realises what he's just done.)

Sherlock: Nothing. (He smiles round falsely at Jim.) Um, hey.

Jim (smiling admiringly at him): Hey.

(Lowering his hand, he knocks a metal dish off the edge of the table and scrambles to pick it up.)

Jim (giggling nervously): Sorry! Sorry!

(John turns away, face-palming,I sigh deeply while Sherlock looks irritated. Jim puts the dish back on the table and then scratches his arm as he wanders back towards Molly.)

Jim: Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?

Molly: Yeah!

(He stops beside her, putting a hand on her back, and looks back towards Sherlock.)

Jim: 'Bye.

Molly (softly): 'Bye.

Jim (to Sherlock): It was nice to meet you.

(Sherlock doesn't respond, continuing to look into his microscope while Jim gazes wistfully at him. John breaks the embarrassing silence.)

John: You too.

(Jim blinks at him, looking awkward, I nod my head at him apologetically and then he turns and leaves the room. Molly waits until the door closes then turns to Sherlock.)

Molly: What d'you mean, gay? We're together.

Sherlock (looking across to her): And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you.

Molly: Two and a half.

Sherlock: Nuh, three.

(Y/N): Sherlock ...

Molly (angrily): He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil ...? He's not.

Sherlock (snorting): With that level of personal grooming?

John: Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair.

Sherlock: You wash your hair. There's a difference. No-no - tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear.

Molly: His underwear?

Sherlock: Visible above the waistline -very visible; very particular brand.

(He reaches for the metal dish.)

Sherlock: That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here ... (he shows her the card that Jim left under the dish) ... and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain.

(Molly stares at him for a moment, then turns and runs out of the room. Sherlock looks startled by her reaction.)

(Y/N): Mol....wait!

John: Charming. Well done.

Sherlock: Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?

John: "Kinder"? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind.

(Y/N): I know you were trying to help her but seriously? Could you be a bit more...subtle?

(Looking fed up with the conversation, Sherlock puts down Jim's card and then reaches over and moves one of the trainers on the desk closer to me.)

Sherlock: Go on, then.

(Y/N): What?

Sherlock: You know what I do. Off you go.

(He sits back and folds his arms expectantly)

(Y/N): No.

Sherlock: Go on.

(Y/N): I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate ...

Sherlock (interrupting): An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me.

(Y/N): Please....

Sherlock: Really.

(I look back at Sherlock and so does he as we look at each other for quite a while and John decides to break the silence, again, by coughing)

(I look away, giving up)

(Y/N): Fine...

John: For goodness sake Sherlock, we dont have that much time to play this game of "Who's better at deducting?"

Sherlock: I want to know how good she is

(Y/N): Ur testing me?

(He doesn't say anything but looks at me with a little smirk curved in his lips)

(Y/N): Okay...

(I take the pair of trainers in my hand and strat to observe them)

(Y/N): Well...um...they're just a pair of shoes...ahh trainers

Sherlock: Good

(Sherlock says as he picks up his phone and searches something. John was walking around waiting impatiently)

(Y/N): They look pretty clean...could be new... except the sole looks well-worn so the owner must have them for a while

(Sherlock started to look frustrated when I said "new" but sighs in relief when I said they were not)

(Y/N): They're...really clean...the colour has been slightly discoloured so the owner must have scrubbed them clean everyday so he loved these.

Sherlock: Very good

(He still doesn't look at me and types in his phone)

(Y/N): They're quite big...a man's?

(He raises his eyebrow, so obviously I'm wrong)

(Y/N): Except there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names like that so these belong to a kid?

Sherlock: Your on sparkling form. What else?

(Y/N): Um...that's it

Sherlock: That's it?

(Y/N): Yeah. So how'd I do?

John: Excellent if you ask me. Right Sherlock?

Sherlock: Well, (Y/N), Really well

(John look at me proudly as I smile triumphantly)

Sherlock: But you missed everything of importance but, you know...

(I sigh tiredly as I give one of the trainers

Sherlock looks at it closely as he goes into deduction mode.)

Sherlock: The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discoloured, so your right Abt that. Changed the laces three ... no, four times.

(John puts his hands on the desk and lowers his head in despair. I look up at the ceiling and sigh in frustration)

Sherlock: Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old.

John(straightening up): Twenty years?

Sherlock: They're not retro - they're original. (Y/N)'s right.

(He shows John an image on his phone.)

Sherlock: Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine.

John: But there's still mud on them. They look new.

Sherlock (looking thoughtfully at the trainer): Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it.

(Y/N): How on Earth do you know that?

Sherlock(nodding towards the computer screen): Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me.

(Two dots are flashing on a map of Britain, one around the borders of East and West Sussex and the other to the south-east of London.)

Sherlock: South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind.

(Y/N): So what happened to the kid?

Sherlock: Something bad.

(He looks up at me)

Sherlock: He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So: a child with big feet gets ...

(He trails off, staring ahead of himself.)

Sherlock (softly): Oh.

(We looks across the lab, trying to see what he is looking at.)

John: What?

(Y/N): What is it??

Sherlock (softly): Carl Powers.

John: Sorry, who?

Sherlock (still staring into the distance): Carl Powers, John.

John: What is it?

Sherlock: It's where I began.

(Suddenly he gets up from the bench and takes his coat and rushes out the door)

Sherlock: Come on!

John: Whoa hey wait!

(We follow him thru the hallway when John stops and says)

John: Shoot, I forgot my jacket at the lab

Sherlock: Oh for God's sake

John: I'll just be a minute, hang on!

(He runs down the hallway back to the lab. Sherlock waits impatiently and I decide to make conversation)

(Y/N): So did I pass your test?

Sherlock: Hmm?

(Y/N): Would you have left me here if I didn't prove myself smart enough to you?

Sherlock: (Y/N), You and I both know I wouldn't have asked you come with me if I knew you were stupid

(He smiles a little at me as I do as well. John comes running back, with his jacket)

Sherlock: You took ages

John: Yeah well you also forgot a little something too

(John holds up the pairs of trainers at Sherlock)

(Sherlock looks a bit embarrassed and takes the trainers from his hands and march down the hallway as we follow him)

Later, the boys and I are in the back of a taxi.

Sherlock: Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid - champion swimmer - came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident.

(He shows John and I the front page of a newspaper on his phone.)

Sherlock: You wouldn't remember it. Why should you?

John: But you remember.

Sherlock: Yes.

(Y/N): Something off Abt it?

Sherlock: Nobody thought so - nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers.

Johm: Started young, didn't you?

Sherlock: The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head.

John: What?

Sherlock: His shoes.

(Y/N): What about them?

Sherlock: They weren't there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes ...

(He leans down and picks up a bag containing the trainers.)

Sherlock: ... until now.

221B. Sherlock has shut himself in the kitchen and is sitting at the table with the trainers nearby - still in the bag - while he looks through photographs and printouts of newspaper reports of Carl Powers' death from 1989. I decided to come inside the kitchen and sit opposite to him at the table, thinking whether I should ask him or not.

(Sherlock doesn't react to me being there at all)

Sherlock: What?

(Y/N): I didn't say anything

Sherlock: You have something to say, it's not really hard at all to deduce u want to say something

(Y/N): How is that obvious?

Sherlock: Ur legs, you shake them constantly when ur under stress or when ur formulating a question.

(Y/N): Know me too well, don't you?

Sherlock: By the same means how u know me

(He looks up and gives a little smile, and then concentrates back to the papers again)

(Y/N): Yeah um...I was thinking, just for a little while, if I could...you know

Sherlock: I can take the couch

(Y/N): What?

Sherlock: You can take my bed until the case is complete

(Y/N): H-How did you...?

Sherlock: Well since your aware that somebody broke into ur flat once, clearly your afraid they might do it again so u don't want to be alone

(Y/N): Yeah...

Sherlock: Like I said, I can take the couch

(Y/N): Thanks

Sherlock: Hmm...

(Y/N): So um...can I help with this...Carl Powers?

(He quickly gave his laptop to me as I take it from his hands)

Sherlock: Search him up, give me details Abt his connections to his friends and family.

(Y/N): Got it

(Soon, we heard John walking back and forth in front of the kitchen as he slides the door to finally come in)

John: Ur brother is texting me now Abt the Andrew West case. Wait...how did he get my number?

Sherlock (thoughtfully): Must be a root canal.

(Putting his phone away, John comes into the kitchen.)

John: Look, he did say 'national importance.'

(Sherlock snorts, not looking up from his research.)

Sherlock: How quaint.

John: What is?

Sherlock: You are. Queen and country.

John(sternly): You can't just ignore it.

Sherlock: I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now.

John: Right. Good.

(He folds his arms and nods in satisfaction, then looks at Sherlock in puzzlement.)

John: Who's that?

(I look at John to give him the "Isn't it obvious" face and he sighs when he understands it's him Sherlock was talking Abt)

John: I'll get my suit..

3 HOURS TO GO

221B. Sherlock has moved to the side table in the kitchen and is looking into his microscope. John was with Mycroft getting more information Abt the case of Andrew West, until I finally get a text from him. Mrs Hudson comes in through the kitchen door with a tray containing a couple of mugs. As she puts them on the kitchen table, Sherlock looks up.