"Hello... sexy."

     It was strange voice through the phone was not malicious or threatening. It was horrified. Conclusion: Not the serial killer. Someone else.

     "Who is this?" You asked loudly so that whoever was on the other side of the phone could hear. John and Lestrade exchanged puzzled looks as the female voice sobbed, "I've... sent you two... a little puzzle, just to say hi." 

     Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

     "I-" she took a shaky breath. "I'm not crying, I'm... typing. And she... is reading it out." Every pause came with a despaired weep. 

      Sherlock's eyes sparkled with sudden interest. "The curtain rises."

     You scowled. "What?"

     "Nothing."

     "No, what did you mean?"

     Sherlock was about to answer, but the woman's voice suddenly came through the phone again, whispering through the tears, "Twelve hours to solve my li-little puzzle, Mr. Holmes and Ms. (L/N). Or I'm going to be so-" the woman chocked back another sob- "...naughty."

     The phone cut off.

     St. Bartholmew's Hospital

 You and John watched Sherlock investigate the shoes under the microscope. You were still thinking about what he'd said back at 221C. 'The curtain rises.' You would be helping Sherlock, but you wouldn't actually contribute much in this area. Yes, you were well-knowledged in this sort of stuff, but Holmes was the one with the masters degree in chemistry. 

     Finally, you could stand your rare case of obliviousness no more. "What did you mean?" You blurted the question with an edge to your voice.

    Sherlock didn't look up from the microscope. "Hmm?"

     "The curtain rises. What did you mean by that?"

     "I'unno," he mumbled. "I've just been expecting this for some time."

     "Well, obviously. We all have." You folded your arms. 

     "What she means is, is this a game to you?" John asked.

     Sherlock peeked up at him from the microscope. "Sorry?"

      John sighed. "This bomber's... challenge.  It seems like you're treating this like some sort of game."

     "Well, (Y/N) enjoys these cases too, " Sherlock pointed out. "The interesting ones."

     John scowled. "But it's not some sort of stage play! A woman's life is at risk and you- you-" He was interrupted by a text alert. Brring!

     "(Y/N), can you pass me my phone?" Sherlock requested casually, back to hunching over the microscope with the shoes on the tray. "And John, this hospital's full of dying people. Why don't you go cry at their bedside; see what good it does them?"

     You looked 'round the room. "Where is your phone?"

     "My jacket."

     "If I have to literally go rummaging through your jacket- which you are wearing right now- just to get your bloody phone, I will crush it with my bare hands."

     "That's physically impossible," he retorted.

     "I'll throw it out the window."

     Sherlock made a tch sound. "You wouldn't..." he replied testily, though obviously not so sure.

     You clenched your teeth and decided right then that yeah, you would, actually. You walked over to Sherlock- he barely moved as you pulled out the phone- and said, "Okay, you asked for it." 

     Maybe he didn't believe you, because he didn't actually take the phone back until you were at the window and sliding it open, making him yelp in alarm. He snatched it out of your hands with a huff. "You are just moody because you're frustrated with the case," Sherlock asserted with a smirk.

     You scoffed as he went to sit down. "Don't look so proud of yourself for figuring that out; it was obvious. And anyway, so are you."

     Sherlock looked down at his phone and deleted a text, then set it down. He looked back to the microscope. "Whatever, (L/N). Just don't take it out on Molly's new boyfriend." Despite John's mood, he had to chuckle at that, though he quickly tried to cover it up with a cough.

     "She has a...?" you broke off, frowning despite yourself. Since when? Why didn't she tell you? Did she tell Sherlock? How else would he know? If she told him and not you, it was because she wanted to make him jealous, right? She likes him. I mean, Sherlock. She must have wanted to make him jealous. Or maybe he found out on his own. Maybe he was here getting an eyeball or something for an experiment and he deduced it when he saw her. That was a possibility, wasn't it? 

     You felt your face getting hot. "I am not being moody," you insisted, giving John an annoyed look. Sherlock smirked smugly from by the microscope. You huffed. "I'm not!" The boys exchanged knowing looks. Flustered, you sat down on a nearby stool and pulled out your phone, staring at it angrily and pretending to be busy. 

     After a while of awkward silence, John finally said, "So.... what was the text?"

     "What text?" Sherlock pretended not to know, probably as an invitation for John to shut up.

     "The one that you had (Y/N) get your phone for."

     Sherlock sighed. "It was Mycroft asking about the Bruce-Partington plans. He wanted to know if I was working on it yet. I don't know why he insists I do something about it and not (Y/N)."

     Indeed, to an average person, it would have seemed illogical for Mycroft to insist that his brother take the case when you could just as easily do it. But you knew that Mycroft did it because he cared about his brother. It was his weird attempt to reach out to Sherlock.

     "Well, if he keeps insisting on it, it must be important," John figured. 

     Sherlock scowled. "If it's so important, why didn't he cancel his dental appointment? He 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?" The computer beside him urgently binged and he looked up from his microscope. "Finally!" he exclaimed triumphantly. 

     As he leaned over to see what was on the screen, Molly walked in at a brisk pace with a clipboard in her hand. "Oh! Didn't know you three were here."  

     John gave a little nod of greeting and you looked up, glad to see your friend. But as you were about to say hello, a man came in through the door and stopped with a startled look. "Oh, sor-sorry," he apologized. "I didn't..." he turned to leave.

     "Jim! Hi!" Hooper laughed nervously. "Come in, come in!"

     You scowled and looked back down a the blank screen of your mobile phone. So this was the boyfriend. You saw Sherlock out of the corner of your eye looking at you with a stupid little smile.

     "Jim, this is Sherlock, Dr. John Watson, and (Y/N)." She turned a hand to each of you in turn as she said your names. Jim probably did something stupid like wave to everyone, but your attention was drawn to turning the phone on, and off. On, and off. On, and off.

     "So you're Sherlock Holmes, and, err, (Y/N) (L/N). Molly's told me all about you two. You on one of your cases?" As he spoke, he leaned against a counter. He accidentally knocked down a little platter next to you. 

     With a sigh, you bent down to pick up the metal platter and held it out for Jim to take, getting your first real good look at him. "Queer," you blurted.

     A startled look appeared on Molly's face. "Sorry, what?"

     Your face got slightly pink. "Nothing. Um, here." You offered the platter to him and he took it. You turned back to your phone, letting your hair fall to hide your face/ turning your face away from the others so they wouldn't see your expression (if your hair is too short for that).

     Jim smiled nervously and put the platter back down, except he set it down by Sherlock, instead of near you, where he'd knocked it from in the first place.

     "Jim works in I.T. upstairs," Molly said, tying to dispel the awkwardness arising in the room. "That's how we met. Office romance." She tittered nervously and Jim smiled at her.

     "Speaking of I.T.," Jim said, "my break just ended. I better be off..." He turned to Molly. "I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?"

     She nodded vigorously. "Yep!" 

     Jim grinned and lightly kissed her cheek. "It was nice to meet you," he said, looking at Sherlock specifically.

     You stared stubbornly at your phone, in a bit of a mood about Jim, and Sherlock stared disinterestedly through his microscope. John was the only one who answered. "You too."

     ("Congratulations on the baby!" "Uh, thanks. Y-you too."  heheh awkward times to say that. Anyone else ever say something like you too when it was totally out of place? It's so awkward!)