Glass: Reader Requests

The Game Aslant II

John was standing near the window, sifting through letters and throwing them down one-by-one on the table. His cane was tucked under his arm, like an extension of himself, a piece of his personality he could never be without, even within the walls of his own home.

The sun was disappearing earlier with each evening that went by, leaving behind a murky grey sky and a bite in the air that sent a cold draught through the tall windows.

Sherlock stepped into the living room, his tall, lean body dressed in a pair of dark, slim-fitting trousers and a crisp white shirt.

John didn't look up at him, instead he glanced out the window to the street below. "You know the woman who works downstairs in the café?"

"Molly?" Sherlock replied.

"Yeah. Well she was asking me all kinds of questions today about autopsies, blood, organ harvesting... You think she's a bit..?" He twirled his finger next to his head. "Do we need to keep an eye on her?"

"No," he laughed. "She mentioned a while back she was interested in pathology. I've told her she should go back to university for it but she thinks it's too late."

"Hm. It would be handy to have a pathologist on side."

"On side? You don't even get her name right half the time."

John chuckled and turned around, watching curiously as his friend fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt before shrugging on a blazer that matched his trousers.

"Where are you off?"

"Oh," said Sherlock. "Erm..."

"Don't tell me this is another date?"

"No. No it's not. I'm... doing some investigative work."

"Oh. Well give me five minutes and I'll come-"

He held up his hand. "Independent investigative work. To help with the Morstan problem."

"You mean my Morstan problem."

"Morstan is everyone's problem."

"Sherlock, if you've got some sort of information that could lead to us getting that memory stick-"

"I do. But there's no chance of us getting anything if you come with me."

He raised an eyebrow suspiciously before hobbling to a chair at the table.

"Trust me," Sherlock continued as he slipped his phone into his pocket. "You know, like how I trusted you when you 'threw me to the wolves', as my brother would say?"

"Your brother's a drama queen."

"He's protective. Always has been." He walked towards the door. "I'm sure you can relate - you have a sister who tries to pay people to look out for you."

"Anything to avoid doing it herself."

He would never admit it, but there was a part of John that took comfort in Harry's surveillance. They had fallen out many times over the years; when her alcoholism went too far, or when his anger made him say things he didn't mean. They were like two negative sides of a magnet; exactly the same in almost every way, yet never able to get too close before their similarities forced them apart.