Every time John turns the key to the flat, he feels an ice-cold stab of pain right through his heart.
“You should move out of there, John,” Lestrade had told him, “Why would you put yourself through that every day?”
John had just shrugged. He couldn’t tell him the real reason: that he needed to have that intense pain. It was the only way he knew his heart was still there at all.
This evening, the key turns a bit more quickly and smoothly.
Not that John notices; he’s still wincing from the jolt. Still catching his breath and straightening his shoulders. Still preparing for the sight of a sitting room which seems more like a mausoleum.
A mausoleum with a tea tray, a steaming cup of Earl Grey, and a plate of ginger biscuits laid out carefully on the coffee table.
“What the—?” John scans the room but sees nothing else out of the ordinary. “Mrs. Hudson?” he calls. “Mrs. Hudson, did you…..”
John throws his jacket onto the sofa and looks more closely at the tea tray.
There’s a tiny card next to the cup. In tight, block letters, it reads “Drink Me.”
Next to the biscuits, he sees a similar one. “Eat Me.”
John purses his lips. “Right. Alice in Wonderland, now. Okay.”
Tag: valeria2067
“Trick/Treat”
“Happy Hallowe’en,” John said half-heartedly as he left Mike at the pub and headed back home.
Hallowe’en just wasn’t that exciting, anymore.
Not much could compete with the life of danger and mystery that John had found with Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only Consulting Detective.
It didn’t particularly bother John that he wasn’t celebrating tonight.
Or, perhaps it did bother him, just a little. But he knew there was no club or party that could give him the kind of thrill he’d begun to need.
When he opened the door to the flat, he felt mildly disappointed to find it so dark and so quiet.
“Sherlock?”
John stepped cautiously forward, looking over his shoulder.
“You all right?”
Sherlock had sent a typically cryptic message asking John to come home at once. Any other day, John would have rolled his eyes and texted back something snarky about pub night with Mike taking precedence over Sherlock’s sock index. Tonight, though, he felt like getting back early, away from the group of giggling, drunken office girls sporting the latest in sexy Halloween costumes. Not that he didn’t appreciate the view, but, really, it was a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. John “Three Continents” Watson preferred his conquests to have a sporting chance (and the ability to give full, unhindered consent).
Something small and hard bounced against a glass beaker in the kitchen, and John turned quickly in that direction. He had just enough time to register the sting of a needle at the back of his neck before he blacked out.
Trick
Lady Karasu 