Traces of All Kinds [sick!Sherlock]

[LovelyLinda]

I've started writing this story because I am BEYOND TERRIFIED of my final exams!!

It kind of helped me to calm down. It was a lot of fun to write,

and there sure is more to come if you want to read it

It's also a present for my dear friend APPLEBLOSSOM who is just the most fantastic writer I know,

and I thought it would be about time to dedicate a story to her

I hope you enjoy it, sweetie xxx

* * *

One brow furrowed in question, Sherlock moved the magnifying glass closer to the small splinters on the table.

"Glass," he stated, "although not the ordinary kind of glass you can find in bottles. This glass here is extraordinarily thin and delicate, also of a very unusual colour."

John shrugged, truth be told, he hadn't even thought of these tiny splinters as of any importance.

While Sherlock was still studying the splinters, looking at them from every angle and gently moving them around with a toothpick, John was crossing the room, trying to find anything unusual that could support the ongoing of their case.

Suddenly, there was a sound that attracted John's attention.

It had sounded like…a sniffle. He stood still and listened closely.

There it was again!

Suspiciously, John turned on his heel and tried to make out where the sound came from.

Strange. There was only Sherlock.

He could have sworn that he had heard something. Debating whether it was imagination or not, he was surprised to hear that noise again, clearly coming out of Sherlock's direction.

Indeed, there was no doubt that he had been the origin of it since he had placed one of his long fingers directly below his nose, gently rubbing at it.

Oh well, this was a most unusual sight.

As he felt John's eyes resting on him, he quickly withdrew his finger and returned the look.

"Have you found out anything else?"

his cold voice startled him and John stuttered,

"N-No, Sherlock. It all seems quite normal to me and I thi…"

"Have you considered looking under the bed?", Sherlock interrupted him.

"Under the …bed? No, actually I haven't." John answered, somewhat perplexed.

"You'd be surprised at how many traces of crime can be found below an ordinary bed. Traces of all kinds."

John gulped. He'd rather not know what kinds exactly.

For obvious reasons he wasn't fond of crawling below said bed anymore.

"Because of these wrinkles, which only show up on your face when you are at unease, I take it, you don't want to seek for traces anymore, am I right?" Sherlock deducted.

John nodded sheepishly.

"I thought so. Well, then it will be my pleasure."

Sherlock approached the bed, taking in his surroundings, before he finally lowered himself onto his knees, his head bent forwards to take a closer look.

"John, flashlight!", he called out because he couldn't make out anything in the dark, let alone notice anything unusual.

As John handed him the flashlight, he gave a gruff 'thank you' and directed the light into the dark shadow. Biting back a smirk, John observed how the detective's butt was moving back and forth as he was crawling even further down there.

It was a strange but yet funny sight.

Suddenly Sherlock's movements froze and John cheered up, expecting his friend to come up with a stunning revelation. All the more he was taken aback as a mighty sneeze ripped through the investigator's body.

"Hhhh'GtZSHSH!" Uhh...I might have found something," he announced slightly congested, "but it sure is dusty."

He crawled from under the bed and wiped his dusty face on his shoulder, sniffling slightly.

"Yes? I'm excited! What is it?" John cheered, "oh, and bless you, by the way."

Ignoring the last part of the sentence, Sherlock showed him his discovery, which was, admittedly, rather dusty. It was an antique-looking musical box with floral print and fading letters on top of it.

"It's beautiful! Should we wind it up?" John asked, looking at the fragile object placed on Sherlock's gloved palm.

"Not yet, John. First we need to check for DNA."

John suppressed an eye-rolling and answered, "Of 'course, excuse my forgetfulness."

After Sherlock had properly wrapped the mysterious object with his handkerchief and stored it in his coat pocket, he straightened himself up and patted the dust from his clothes. A light cough escaped his lips.

John got caught staring again, and visibly blushed this time.

"What are we going to do now? Return to Baker Street?"

"Yes." Sherlock simply replied, "We need to do some further examination."

John followed his friend, who had already left the building and thought to himself, '

Now the question arises what, or rather who, needs to be examined.'

Sherlock should know that he wasn't the only one to make smart deductions.

* * *

TBC?

Edited March 9, 2013 by LovelyLinda

[hails]

Um....

YES MORE PLEASE gahhh Sherlock

[ID2006]

Mmmmm, I love where I think this is going.

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

What hails and ickydog said.

[AppleBlossom]

AHHHHHHH! ohmygodddholymolythisisjustawesome! You have no idea how much I am in love with you and this masterpiece! I cannot wait for the next part to come along! Those sneezes are to die for!! I wanna find out what's gunna happen!

Oh god, my brain can't cope! X)

[Coffee Chicken Barista]

This...this...this...this...this.....YES! Please continue!

[Jamison Leigh]

OH HELL YES. Oh and good luck on your test(s)!

[Quite Contrary]

OMG! More sick Sherlock, yes! Please, please, please continue!!

[Ciuty80]

awww i like it!!!

this is sooo CUTE!!

please more!

[cara]

OMGGGGGGGGG This is amazing! I started watching last week and I have just finished!

[Kshu]

I love it!

[Meala]

That's a question!? Of course moooooore!! <3

[LovelyLinda]

Awwww, you are all so sweet <3

Thanks a lot for all of your nice comments, I really appreciate them!

Like I said, I actually started writing this story because I was scared of my written exams.

Well, I survived them, I don't know the results yet, but I won't think too bad.

Next problem is: I'll be having oral exams, too, in two weeks. And I'm so freaking nervous!

I hate oral exams, I can write pretty good and sound intelligent and whatever, but as soon as I am face to face with

someone who's asking me difficult questions, my mind goes blank and I sit there being all rubbish.

So, as you could have guessed, I've continued this story a little bit. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it =D

Hehehehe!! Yes, I am mean. I'm aware. I love teasing Sherlock =D

* * *

"And you really think these glass splinters are relevant for the murder? I mean, on the woman's body were no signs of violence."

"Of course they are," Sherlock stated, "Like I had supposed earlier, this is definitely the glass of a fragile container, probably of a champagne glass."

He adjusted the microscope and zoomed in even closer.

"Look, John, there's also a tiny bit of…"

He stopped at that.

John faced him confusedly, waiting for him to end his observation.

"Yes?"

Sherlock had closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face, his mouth slightly opened. He stayed for this a couple of seconds, then the look disappeared from his face and he continued as nothing had happened. "…also a tiny bit of residue."

Well, that was odd.

"What was that? Are you alright?" Watson asked cautiously.

Sherlock didn't even look up as he answered him.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Watson."

Obviously the detective was a little peculiar about this topic, so John shrugged it off. "Never mind."

Lost in thoughts and wild assumptions, he didn't even notice that Sherlock had continued his rapid-fire deduction.

"…consequently she had been poisoned, most likely with that liquid that is still on the glass splinters."

He nodded his approval at Sherlock.

Although it seemed meaningless, John bore this little incident in his mind, maybe it could come in handy later

* * *

When John returned from a little supply run, he found Sherlock sitting in his armchair, playing harmonically on his fiddle.

"I'm back," he announced, but the detective was oblivious to it. He kept on playing a sad melody, that John had never heard before.

"That sounds lovely, Sherlock, what piece is it?" Watson smiled at him, but then realized that his friend's eyes were closed, and consequently, he

couldn't see him. Shrugging, Watson took a magazine and sat down on the sofa, stretched his legs out and thumbed through the pages.

After about half an hour, the melody Sherlock was playing dropped in speed and got out of tune. It was subtle at first, but after a while of listening to this ghastly playing, Watson looked up from his magazine to look over to his friend.

Once again, Sherlock looked as if he was in pain, his eyes were shut with his dark brows drawn together. His mouth was slightly open and John could hear some shaky inhales. "What's wrong with you, Sherlock?"

He asked worriedly, but of course he didn't get an answer.

"Hhhh…."

"Are you in pain?"

"H-huhhh…N-no, I…hehhh…"

"Are you suffocating?!? Are you able to breath?"

"No, hhh.. and y-yes, Wat-hhh…uhhhhh….Watson. I…I need…hhhh…"

"What do you need? Aspirin? A doctor? Should I call a doctor?"

"You ARE a doctor! I need to…hhh…to…hehhhh…sneeze! Hhhhh'GDgtSHH-uhhh!"

The force of the sneeze bent his whole body forward and he exhaustedly slumped back onto his chair, giving a relieved sigh.

"So, that's it? A sneeze? I was actually worried about you, Sherlock!"

Sniffling, Sherlock rubbed his eyes and answered, "I never gave you a reason to worry. If you had only the slightest talent at drawing deductions you would have known that I wasn't suffocating, but rather being tortured by this horrible tickle."

John rolled his eyes and mimicked him, "…the slightest talent…Thank you very much, I really enjoy your honesty and openness."

Sherlock ignored him and begun playing on his fiddle again.

Watson swallowed down a couple of nasty comments and dedicated himself to his magazine again. That dry cough reappeared. Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to it.

No matter how hard John tried, he couldn't stop worrying about his friend and kept on studying him unobtrusively over his magazine.

He'd never even heard him sneeze before, and now twice a day?

This couldn't be normal.

***

TBC? =D

[Quite Contrary]

I sure hope it's to be continued!! This is great!

[alyssa]

Oooh yes please more This is wonderful, really enjoying it!

[AppleBlossom]

Ahh! You're back! I love your sneezy Sherlock, and those sneeze spelling are to die for! I absolutely love your writing! Please continue!

[HoneyBunny]

Oh this is awesome! Love your story so much I especially like the bit about the pained expression and John worrying, and then Sherlock being like, " I don't know WTF you're talking about."

Pleeaaaase continue I will love you forever if you do! In a non-stalkery way, hehe. Good luck on your exams BTW!

[cara]

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

[LovelyLinda]

Hello there!

I'm finally back, after almost a year of being abroad! Let me tell you, that was the best time of my life, I can really recommend it )

So so sorry that I kept you waiting for so long, but I've got a giant rush of motivation, and I have continued several pages in just one day.

I hope you like the next part :-*

Love, Linda

* * *

Later that day, Sherlock had gone upstairs to the attic to do god-knows-what, John remembered that they hadn't even taken a look at the small music box with the floral print on it. He knew that Sherlock was going to kill him when he destroyed eventual traces, so he put on some rubber gloves he usually used at work but had conveniently stored at Baker Street.

Carefully he unwrapped the item from the cotton handkerchief and eyed it precisely. Suddenly he noticed, that what he thought of as a floral print, were actual letters, forming a name.

"Juliette," he read aloud. "Who are you, Juliette?"

"One of thr-…hhh…three…Hehhh…Hehh'dGRSHH! Ugh…Three sisters! Heh…Huhh'DZGshhh-uhh."

John looked up at the tired looking detective, who was swiping at his tickly nose with his sleeve and obviously returned from his activity on the attic.

"Bless you, Sher-"

John went quiet when the detective shot him a deathly glare.

Yes, right, he was the bloody amazing Sherlock Holmes. He never got sick.

Let's better skip that subject.

"What makes you think it was one of three sis-"

"That's elementary, Watson. For one, there is this picture on her night stand. It shows three women, one of them clearly herself. Besides, I've checked her family history."

"Very well, then. Do we have any hint who the murderer could be?"

"Somebody who she knows and trusts, otherwise she wouldn't have been drinking that poisonous wine. My suggestion would be one of her two sisters."

"What makes you think it was one of her sisters?"

"John, John, John. Isn't this obvious?"

The detective shook his head impatiently, "Most murderers know their victims very well. It's all about anger, envy and money. Don't you have siblings? Don't you know how it feels to be constantly compared to them? To my mind the chances it had been one of her sisters are extraordinarily high."

"I see," Watson replied somewhat lamely.

“I have examined it, by the way. No need for you wearing gloves. I found two different sets of fingerprints, one of them were Juliette's, but I couldn't figure out the second person yet. My guess would still be one of her sisters.”

John shrugged, “We could ask Lestrade, he could help us identifying the fingerprints.”

Sherlock shook his head vigorously, “No, not Lestrade. To my mind there's only one way to find out. We should get into their apartments and check if we couldn't find some more of these fingerprints, as easy as it sounds. My research revealed that all of the formerly three sisters attended the same yoga class twice a week.”

After a look on his watch he announced, “Which happens to take place tomorrow – Sunday – at 10 o'clock in the morning until 11:30. That's plenty of time for us to take a good look at her apartment and probably find something that could help us find the murderer.”

Once again, John was amazed how fast the detective had gathered all the relevant information and forged out a plan.

"If I only knew what role this musical box plays in the crime," Sherlock muttered to himself and sat down on his armchair, rocking forth and back, his fingertips touching.

* * *

The next morning Sherlock was already awake and sitting at the table, an empty cup in front of him, the newspaper on his lap.

John, who was usually the first one to wake up, shook his head in disbelief. Was there a reason for the detective to be up that early?

As he joined him at the table, he realized that he wasn't already - but still up. The dark circles below his eyes were sure tell-tales, besides he kept on staring at one point in the newspaper, lost in thought.

"Has the case kept you from sleeping last night?" John asked with a little sorrow in his voice as he poured some tea into his own mug.

With a frown he realized the tea was already cold.

"Yes, sobe tea would be dnice," Sherlock answered, holding out his mug for John to refill.

Raising his brows in surprise at Sherlock's obviously congested voice, John wondered if he had caught cold, since his slightly red, and incredibly stuffy nose seemed very conspicuous, and poured him some cold tea, not asking any further questions.

Yes, Sherlock had not been sleeping at all last night, there was no other explanation for his misplaced answer, and since there were no cats around, the only thing the remarkable Sherlock Holmes was affected by, he must be coming down with something.

Sherlock cleared his throat in vain and remarked in a still scratchy and congested voice after a look at the clock on the wall,

"It's about tibe we pay a visit to our ladies.”

* * *

Hopefully to be continued? This is soooo fun <3

[squealofapproval]

D'AWWWWW this is lovely! Sneezy Sherlock omfg and concerned!John.

[Ciuty80]

awww linda...that was wonderful!!!

i really missed your writing so much!

i am so happy that you are back

please much much more!

[LiveToBeMe]

Ooooooo I'm starting to like this! I'm not a crazy Sherlock fan, however I watch the show & I could definitely see this happening! Great work, love to read more soon

[redbluemoon]

Love how Sherlock's in denial most of the time! And he still won't admit it to John. =3 I can't wait for more!