Dorm Rooms Are Boring

((I think the case is going great! Unfortunately, I can't post anything tomorrow, because I'm at a festival. I am sorry foe the inconvenience!))

When Sherlock's mind had come down a gear, he was surprised to notice that John was apparently trying to follow suit and babbled on in a similar fashion to Sherlock, although it was clear he had no idea what he was on about. Raising an eyebrow Sherlock tried a convincing 'Mmmm', as if he was taking John's points into consideration- no need to piss him off unnecessarily, he needed him on the case with him.
They reached the museum and slipped through the entrance with a group of exchange students to avoid the pay desk.
Sherlock had been to museum once before and was interested to find that they'd almost tripled the amount of security guards which was no doubt a costly move- maybe they were expecting a second robbery, especially now the security systems had proved themselves to be so penetrable. Sherlock weaved through the crowds, John following in his wake, up to the 3rd floor where the shield had been displayed.
Half the floor was open to the public, and the rest was cornered off by police tape. Going around the back of some of the exhibits, they managed to get close enough to observe the investigation that was going on, but not hear it.
"Damn it." Sherlock cursed, "we need to get closer." He eyed the emergency fire alarm, wondering if that would clear the area for long enough, but decided against it and ducked under the police tape when on of the policewoman was looking the other diretcion. "Come on!" he hissed at John, holding the tape up for him to duck under.

"With you" whispered John quickly ducking under the tape. His heart was beating faster at the excitement of it all. "Just lets get out of sight. What are you going to do?"

Yes of course with me. John followed him and they crept around the side of an exhibit cabinet, Sherlock gesturing for John to crouch. They could see the crime scene from here but it wasn't close enough. He considered maybe creating a diversion, John surely would comply and play along, but it was too risky. Instead, Sherlock cast his eyes hungrily over a series of muddy footprints which trailed from the shield and towards the exit. They were covered in a plastic film to protect them and numbered. Scanning over the prints from a safe distance, Sherlock estimated the criminals shoe size, and then therefore an average height and distance between them, followed by a quick calculation to give him an estimated walking speed. A little data but not enough.

Looking over his shoulder he could see John, crouched down behind him, nervously biting his bottom lip but with an excited glimmer in his eyes. Lets give him something to get excited about, Sherlock thought with a wry smile. "Give me your phone" he whisperer urgently. Taking it with a faked smile, Sherlock tossed the cheap android as hard as he could in the direction of the police officers, and it landed with a clatter at a particularly stern looking officers feet. Ducking behind the display again, he whispered to John, "Now go fetch it." Now, if this went to plan John would rush out over there and get arrested, causing a big enough distraction for the officers for Sherlock to get a sample of those footprints. John looked back at him, horrified, and Sherlock responded look of exasperation. "Go on!"

“I'm not your dog!” John hissed but he went. Not only went but ran at top speed and on the fly snatched the phone up. The burly officer whose feet John's phone handed landed near was the first to make a dive for the youth. John's rugby training came into play with a deft swerve to evade the hands reaching for him. The policeman, over-reaching, was caught off balance and stumbled a step or two before giving chase.

John belted for the exit causing startled shouts, turned heads and then feet to pursue him. He made it out of the room but one of the police officers caught up with him as he got part way down the stairs. John looked back but couldn't see Sherlock.

He wasn't sure what to say when the police officer gruffly asked him what he was doing and why he was running away.

“A...a...boy took my phone...and he threw it and I was running..away from him” John mumbled breathlessly.

The officer looked stern. “You have your phone back but unless you can give a description of the boy there isn't much we can do.”

“I...er can't tell you what he looks like.” John stuttered looking at his feet.

“You had best be on your way then.” The policeman's words were civil but his glare told John to take his advice promptly.

Sherlock to his surprise sauntered up smirking.

Sherlock let his mouth twist into a little smile as he listened to John's attempt at escape whilst using the diversion to collect a small soil sample from one of the footprints. Perfect. When he'd finished he calmly got up, straighten out his long coat and wandered over to get John out of the trouble he'd seemed to have got himself tangled up in.

"It's okay, he was just leaving." Sherlock said, walking up behind the shorter boy and placing a hand on his shoulder protectively, guiding him past the police officer. As they made their way past the officer Sherlock shrugged and shot him an apologetic look which seemed to work a treat. As soon as they were safely out of ear shot Sherlock drew a fist and let a small "Yesss!" escape through his teeth.
John looked as though he was about to punch him and it caused him to wonder why John agreed to do these things for him when afterwards he seemed to be so fuming. He thought for a brief second maybe his phone had broken, but the impact had defiantly not been hard enough for that, Sherlock had made sure of it; but yet he looked decidedly downcast. Curious.
"John, are you okay?"

((ergh soz i just realised i wrote in that john was in a grump with sherlock but he might not have been, liking the danger and all, so sorry :/ i can always edit it out))

((it's ok, yes he was liking the danger sort of))

John was almost pleased to see Sherlock because it meant that whatever his lanky friend had been doing he hadn't got caught doing it. He was though fuming at feeling humiliated and having been put on the spot like that. His hands were curling and flexing by his sides in agitation and he was fighting back an impulse to yell at Sherlock.

When Sherlock asked John if he was okay he hadn't realised it was bad timing to speak to him and expect a civil answer.

“No, I am not ok” John exploded flinging his hands up in exasperation taking a step away and nearly turning his back on Sherlock for a moment.

He turned back to face Sherlock and squared up to him but continued in a less heated tone “if you want me to help you? All you have to do is ask! That's what friends do.” he pursed his lips, shaking his head and turning abruptly began walking away to calm down.

John was also walking away to end the confrontation and to avoid having to explain to Sherlock why he was annoyed and he was putting distance between them partly because he was furious with himself for yelling at Sherlock when he knew his friend had no real grasp on empathy.

Sherlock's head cocked slightly in puzzlement and he stopped in his tracks at John's outburst. So that was why he was angry. Okay, fine, suit yourself, he thought as he watched his friend storm off down the corridor. He made his way back slowly out of the museum, taking his time to check over the security map he'd created, before heading for the exit. Since they'd been out on the street it had began raining heavily, and he cursed under his breath and pulled up his coat collar against the rain. A flicker of panic sounded in his belly as he searched the street for the familiar figure of John, who he'd assumed would wait outside for him. It dissolved however as he saw the shorter boy slumped against one of the museums columns, sheltering from the downpour.
He strode over to him quickly, but once he got to the pillar he had no idea what to say to make amend with his friend so just waited patiently next to him, watching the rain.
"Are you hungry?" he finally asked as the rain began to die down. "There's a good cafe a few minutes away from here." he stepped out into the drizzle, looking back over his shoulder cautiously at John.

John looked out on the rain from the museum steps and decided to sit against one of the pillars and wait for Sherlock. He was thankful that Sherlock didn't try to talk to him immediately but he disliked the awkward silence between them.

As the rain slackened he saw Sherlock move slightly. "Coffee would be good" John replied calmly and got up to follow Sherlock into the drizzle.

"So, ok. What were you so pleased about in there?" John asked sincerely as he got level with Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded in agreement at the coffee, shoving his already cold hands deep into his pockets.
"Soil sample." he told him triumphantly, producing a small plastic observation pot he'd borrowed form the chemistry labs at school. It had a small amount of dried mud in, "from the footprints" he explained, "we can potentially find out where the thieves point of entry was and also where came from before heading to the museum."
They headed down through the streets until they came to a small cafe. Stepping inside Sherlock selected a window table as always, sitting down and stripping off his coat and scarf. "Black two sugars." he said with a smile, pushing a fiver across the table top to John before reaching across to grab a newspaper from a nearby table. He scanned it quickly, not knowing what he was looking for but hoping to find something at least a little relevant to the case.

John turned his collar up against the persistent drizzle and his face broke out into a wider smile seeing the little plastic tub of soil that Sherlock produced from his pocket.

John nodded at his friends explanation. “Hope so. Has to be worth a try,” he looked from the pot at Sherlock “Life's never boring with you around,” he added admiring his friend's ingenuity. He meant it as a compliment not as a statement of a fact and hoped that Sherlock understood.

Reaching the cafe John followed Sherlock in and took the seat facing inward, peeling off his jacket he laid it on the green leatherette bench seat. He smiled as his friend offered to buy the coffee and then settled down with a newspaper.

Taking the five pound note John went to get the coffees and after a short wait brought two mugs back to the table. He dug the change out of his jeans pocket and dumped it on the table near his friend's elbow before sitting down.

John stretched and turned his attention to looking out of the window leaving Sherlock to look through the newspaper without disturbing him.

Sherlock swooped the mug of coffee off the table and took a gulp- wincing at the bitterness as well as the scorching heat of the liquid- whilst not taking his eyes off the paper. Only after he'd scanned it cover to cover did he place it back down on a near by table. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing new on it." he sighed a little. "No more leads, questionings, CCTV footage or anything! What on earth do the police force do all day long?" he ranted, voice escalating rapidly in volume.
He glared across at John for a few moments before remembering his friends little outburst earlier. He wasn't angry with John of course, but his trusted companion seemed to bear the brunt of it but yet still put up with Sherlock. Lips twisting, he smiled a little to himself, replaying his comment from earlier outside the museum.
A gasp and a shout from across the cafe drew Sherlock's attention away from John and towards the small TV screen which was playing some breaking news. "Oh how terrible", "Awful!", some of the other customers and the women at the counter exclaimed.

Sherlock however felt a flutter of excitement in his belly and whispered under his breath. "Finally." The news was of a murder. The victim, identified as Klimov- a foreign man in his late twenties who had a record of involvement in smuggling- was found less than an hour ago near the Polthorne Estate. Even better, was that they had estimated that he was killed around 10 hours after the shield had gone missing.

"What they seem to do is stand around while you investigate and I wonder what the hell you are doing" John grinned in reply to Sherlock's frustrated outburst.

What 'finally'? John wanted to know "do you know you have a face that says 'we both know what's going on' when actually you know but I don't?"

Sherlock snorted slightly at John's attempt at humor and sighed.
"But of course you know what's going on John, it's obvious surely..." John shot him'that' look, the only thing that would ever make Sherlock shut up. So he closed his mouth reluctantly and continued in a more hushed tone, leaning forward onto the table.
"They've finally made a slip. What I'm saying is this Klimov guy didn't just die by coincidence. His killing was well planned, well executed and well hidden- so it's not just your average stabbing or anything, in fact", he motioned back to the television screen which was showing an interview with the chief constable who was explaining that the cause of death was must likely strangulation.
"See?" he asked, a little too optimistically. Downing the dredges of his coffee, Sherlock stood up scraping his chair back loudly and started to his coat on.
"John, you must understand. He's a smuggler and therefore easily capable of robbery. He's expert at sneaking objects past security and handing them over to his employer. Except maybe this time he got greedy..." Sherlock swept out the door, leaving John scrabbling with a chair behind him and walked out onto the street. "Come on!"

"Ah, right yes I think..." Sherlock was already departing "so... yeah." John sighed.

"You don't think John, that's the whole problem..." Sherlock mumbled. He hailed a passing cab and they jumped in.
"It's okay, I'll pay for it." Sherlock shot a smile over at John, knowing his friend didn't like to waste his money on such mundanities as a taxi fare.
The traffic was fairly good so they reached Polthorne Estate quickly. The area was clogged with police cars, spectators and worried residents though so they had to walk the last few streets. Practically throwing a tenner at the driver Sherlock made off down the street.
"Hmm..." he mused, pausing for John to catch up. He was still a little stiff from yesterdays rugby no doubt, and his knuckles showed a range of hues of bruises, which made Sherlock's stomach jolt in an unfamiliar sensation. "It might be slightly harder getting onto this scene, John."

John muttered about genius under his breath as they caught a cab. The Polthorne Estate was so absolutely packed with people that the cab had to drop them off streets away..

"Like I said, you are the genius, if you think of a way and let me know then I'll have a go, that's my gig, thinking up the bright stuff is yours, right?" John grinned. God, he loved it when he could help Sherlock.

"Well right now it's going to be impossible to get in. There's just too many police and detectives around to attempt anything. We're going to have to wait until the evening. Police officers are notoriously lazy John, once they've done a once over and forensics have had they're fill, they'll leave the place practically empty." Sherlock weaved through the crowd with easy until they reached a police barrier which swarmed with photographers and journalists. Sherlock knew coming back later would entail breaking school rules, but he hadn't ever really followed school protocol before and wasn't about to start. John however, may need more persuasion. But for now, they needed a more accurate idea of the scene. "The back of that building." Sherlock motioned with a nod of his head, "The back was all open, barely a lock in sight. The only witness lived there but no-ones bothered to investigate it's view. I need you to go in there and tell me what kind of view you can get of the street from that 2nd storey window. Text me once your inside." Sherlock explained under his breath as not draw attention to their plans before dding, "Will you?" and flashing a coy smile.

“Do you want me to try to sneak in now? I can try.” John asked hopefully, game to give it a go.

“Go the long way round. You might have to give me a leg up over a wall or something where there's nobody hanging about?



((abduction in the evening, yeah? ))

((I'll sneak up to Sherlock when John is gone))
((and yeah, I guess so, His-Doctor ))

((ahhh okay, i got confused... so when we come back to look around again yeah?)) maybe i shouldn't make you go in the house then... i was trying to get you abducted))

S. Holmes wrote:((ahhh okay, i got confused... so when we come back to look around again yeah?)) maybe i shouldn't make you go in the house then... i was trying to get you abducted))

slaps Sherlock with a wet towel

yeah go for evening abduction coz there wont be a load of police about then

((looks very annoyed and wet... so i'll just send you in for a bit then))

Sherlock let out a small sigh before placing a hand on John's shoulder to steer him through the crowd and around to the backstreet. He took a quick glace left and right before reluctantly leaning backwards onto the wall and lacing his fingers together in a foothold. "Quickly, John." he said through clenched teeth as the shorter but by far stockier boy clambered up and over the wall. "All clear?" he asked, before the sound of John jumping down to the ground on the other side of the wall answered his question.
Sherlock quickly made his way back to the scene, inspecting as much as he could with the inconvenience of the huge crowd.
Are you in?-SH

John landed on both feet and stood perfectly still. "Shit, there's a load of nettles." John called back to Sherlock on the far side of the garden wall. There was no response so he made his way across the garden gingerly.

The second garden was only fenced and in poor repair and John squeezed through a gap quite easily. The garden he had just got into was narrow but very long and was wrought iron gated at the far end between high walls.

As John made his way to the back door he invented a story about losing a dog in case anyone was around. The back door was in fact open and it didn't look like anyone was living there.

His phone text alert went off and he sent a reply back:

Am in kitchen, milk solid in a carton nobody living here. Cant see much am off upstairs now. JW