When Sherlock Holmes arrived back at 221B Baker Street, his companion wasn't there.

This surprised him, and when he asked Mrs Hudson if she had seen him, she replied with a quiet 'no'. Sherlock didn't question any longer, however, and assumed that he had gone to meet up with Sarah. He reckoned he should catch up with his novel, something he hadn't done in quite a while now, and did so.

Just as Sherlock turned to the last chapter, a phone rang. It definitely wasn't his phone, since the ringtone was different, but he recognised it. He sat up from the sofa, scanning the room, trying to find the source of the ringing until his eyes set on a rather familiar pink phone.

The pink phone from The Great Game.

Sherlock hadn't got rid of it, not yet, anyway. He certainly wasn't expecting another call, however, and there was only one person who knew the number. He stood up slowly, approaching it with caution and picking it up.

Number blocked.

He stared at it for a while as the ringing continued, before he slid the bar and answered it. Sherlock had barely uttered a 'hello' when a familiar voice in which he hadn't heard for quite a while now piped up.

"Hello, dear!" Jim Moriarty said rather sarcastically into Sherlock's ear. Sherlock couldn't help but scowl.

"What have you done now, Moriarty?" He snapped. If it was something to do with John, Sherlock swore to himself that he would kill Moriarty.

Funnily enough, it didn't surprise him when Jim said, "Ohh, you know, this and that. Maybe something to do with John."

"Where are you?" Sherlock demanded to know. Quite frankly, he didn't want the whole swimming pool situation – but Sherlock had the most stomach churning feeling that he had done something far worse than strap bombs to his chest like the last time.

"Catch me if you can!" Jim said before hanging up, leaving Sherlock with the phone against his ear and a beep droning in his ears.

He put the pink phone in his pocket just in case Jim would call up to give him some sort of clue, picked up his own mobile and went through his contacts. When he reached Sarah, he pressed dial and waited for a response.

"Hello?" Sarah's voice didn't sound normal – she sounded worried, nervous. Sherlock didn't bother with the greetings – he never did.

"Did John visit you today?" He asked.

There was a moment's pause, and Sherlock was already starting to get impatient. She sniffed, before responding, "Yes, he did. He came over for lunch, and once we had finished he had a c-call, and suddenly he told me he had to go in such a solemn voice it scared me. Do you know where he is, Sherlock?"
"Well, obviously not, that's why I'm calling you. Did you hear any of the conversation?"

"What? Umm, I heard a few no's, a yes, and an okay. He didn't say much."

Hmm. "Was he in any sort of a bad mood before the phone call?"

"No. He was really quite happy, actually."
"Hmm, okay. Thank you Sarah." He hung up, grabbing his coat and scarf and, throwing them on, told Mrs Hudson he might be a while.

"Make us a nice meal for if we come back!" Sherlock called.

He heard Mrs Hudson sigh, and he chuckled. "I'm your landlady dear, not your housekeeper!"


DERP. First Sherlock fanfiction I've posted up here. I need reviews because I love reviews and they let me know somebody's reading my work dammit D SO YEP ENJOY