Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty One

A loud frantic knocking echoed through the house, jolting John awake. He threw on his dressing gown and rushed to the front door.

"I know it's early," said the tearful woman on the doorstep. "Really, I'm sorry."

Mary appeared behind him, closing her dressing gown around her and peering down the hallway. "Is that Kate?" she called to John.

"Yeah, it's Kate," John replied as he continued to stare blankly at the snivelling woman.

"Invite her in?"

"Er, sorry yes. Do you want to come in, Kate?" He said before stepping aside and allowing her to walk into the house.

Mary smiled sympathetically as she walked to towards her, rubbing her arm kindly.

They showed her to the living room where she took a seat on the couch and continued to cry into a piece of crumpled tissue.

"There you go," said John as he placed two mugs of coffee on the table.

"It's Isaac," Mary informed him.

"Ah, your husband."

"Son."

"Son, yeah."

"He's gone missing again," Kate sobbed. "Didn't come home last night."

"The usual," said Mary.

"He's the drugs one, yeah?" he replied as he paced the floor.

Kate blubbered.

"Er, yeah, nicely put, John."

"Look, is it Sherlock Holmes you want? Because I've not seen him in ages," he said.

"About a month."

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" asked Kate.

"See, that does happen," said Mary sarcastically.

"There's a... a place they all go to," Kate continued. "him and his... friends. They all do whatever they do. 'Shoot up', whatever you call it."
"Where is he?"

"It's a house. It's a dump. I mean, it's practically falling down."

"Where, exactly?"

III

The small high street café was busy in the crisp summer morning. The scent of coffee and freshly baked bread seeped out of the open doors and lingered in the air outside. Margaux ordered herself a coffee and a cold juice for Vaughan who sat comfortably on her hip. The gleaming sun had attracted most of the customers to the tables outside, leaving a free table in the corner of the café. She sat down, placed Vaughan next to her and handed him his juice. She watched as he settled into his chair, gazing out of the nearby window to watch the bustling of people outside. He hadn't slept well that night, he was tired. She ran her hand over his head gently and smiled.

She took a sip of her coffee, burning her tongue, and tapped her fingernails on the screen of her phone which sat on the table in front of her. She looked around the café before finally picking it up and dialling a number.

"Yes?" Answered a deep, bored voice.

"I'm listening..." She said.

"Listening to what?"

"Don't make me say it, Mycroft."

There was a long pause on the phone before he finally replied.

"What changed your mind?" He asked plainly.

"Nothing. I just changed it."

"Well then–"

"But there are conditions," she interrupted with a nervous enthusiasm.