storyline one.

[docwithablog]

chronology -

00. word association w/ Sherlock

1. gen texting w/ Sherlock

2. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

3. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

4. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

5. the case of the missing first violinist w/ Sherlock

6. texting w/ Sherlock

7. texting w/ Sherlock

8. texting w/ Sherlock

9. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

10. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

11. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

12. the case of the dying detective w/ Sherlock

13. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

14. the case of the great game w/ Sherlock

15. texting w/ Sherlock

16. otherwordly w/ Sherlock

17. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

18. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

19. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

20. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

21. texting - part one | texting - part two w/ Sherlock

22. the case of the navel treatment w/ Sherlock

23. texting w/ Sherlock

24. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

25. texting w/ Sherlock

26. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

27. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

28. the case of a scandal in belgravia w/ Sherlock

29. truth or dare w/ Sherlock

00. texts from last night w/ Sherlock

30. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

31. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

32. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

33. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

34. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

35. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

36. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

37. texting w/ Sherlock

38. the case of the devil's foot w/ Sherlock

39. the case of the devil's root w/ Sherlock

00. word association w/ Sherlock

00. texting w/ Sherlock

00. penny for your thoughts w/ Sherlock

40. midnight texting w/ Sherlock

41. interlude w/ Sherlock

42. interlude w/ Sherlock

43. interlude w/ Sherlock

44. texting w/ Sherlock

45. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

46. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

47. the case of the sign of three w/ Sherlock

48. texting w/ Sherlock

49. texting w/ Sherlock

50. texting w/ Sherlock

51. anniversary w/ Sherlock

52. texting w/ Sherlock

53. interlude w/ Sherlock

Comments

[acuriousincident]

[ He watches the house carefully, as he's done for the entire duration of their stake-out. It's getting progressively obvious that Elizabeth Overstowe is nothing if not a woman of quiet, unassuming habits. So far, they've watched her hang out her washing to dry - water the roses in her flowerbed out front - and accept deliveries by her door, having apparently chosen to forego grocery shopping. All in all, nothing of note; but then again, there wouldn't be, would there, at any sensible time of day? He thinks about Staunton's message again. Tell the police. Tell them. Gaze slipping from the house to the street (cars lining the parking spaces, most of them taken except a few at the opposite end, street lights on, only a few people out and about at this hour, though the busier mainstreet further down is bustling with activity - quiet area, this, comparatively, good place to hide away once your terrible parents have thrown you out for the second or third time), he blinks as John's voice intrudes upon his thought process.

There was a brawl he says. Eyes narrowing, he glances sideways. ]

You didn't think to tell me that earlier? [ An exasperated exhalation. ] What happened? Any arrests?

[ Just as he finishes his last question, the front door opens. His gaze snaps back to the front of the house. After a few seconds, Elizabeth Overstowe steps outside carefully, glancing to all sides and looking distinctively uncomfortable (hunched shoulders, arms crossed against her upper body, gaze jumping from place to place, body movements erratic) before heading for her small Fiat Panda parked right by the pavement. He breathes out slowly. Notes what he can from this distance (clothes: unchanged from earlier in the day, practical and unremarkable; boots, not shoes, insulated and heavy-looking, good grip for slippery or muddy roads; scarf half-covering her face and a coat just a fraction too hot for the weather - accessories: bag over shoulder, filled with... cardboard boxes, small, several stacked on top of each other, probably not groceries but something else, something of practical value) and pushes the key into the ignition. ]

[docwithablog]

None. Everything was resolved -- [ He notices the shift of Sherlock's attention before he notices Overstowe who's finally venturing into the wild, the way his eyes (which are a rare case, naturally, of sectoral heterochromia, what did you expect, normal eyes, come on) snap back to her house, her pathway, her car in time with the woman making her way over. She's dressed for some kind of weather, certainly, colder than what they're currently under, a pair of heavy boots on her feet and a warm coat hanging around her frame. Bag over one shoulder. Not doing the shopping at this hour and probably not with her bag already full of stuff, no. John continues: ] -- on location.

[ Sherlock pushes the key into the ignition and John looks out the window quickly, before finally abandoning his book, turning in his seat to dump it in the back of the car. Then, quite calmly, though his heart's already racing and apparently there are things better than sex, like really getting your adrenaline pumping this bloody hard (he remembers missions in Helmand, a mix of dread and excitement in the pit of his stomach, hands working fast and working well), he buckles up with little to no hurry whatsoever. Better not be spotted by the poor lady, after all. If he has to end this night on a note of performing CPR on her because their stalking adventure lands her in cardiac arrest, he's going to sore as hell. ]

Just a couple of rat-arsed drunks quarreling, they wrote. Nothing to pursue.

[acuriousincident]

[ He waits until the small car's nearing the end of the main street before turning on the engine and pulling out, having parked with easy access to the road. Slowly, carefully, he sets off after Elizabeth, taking the time to anticipate her movements and keeping a solid distance. She's moving quickly through the city centre, each turn and twist executed with a high degree of familiarity. She knows her way around, yes, and more importantly - she knows exactly where she's going. He takes a moment to reply to John's comment, brain running two distinctively different tracks simultaneously. ]

Nothing indeed. [ Exactly as expected. ] So, what do we have, John? Staunton, a seemingly boring man with a seemingly boring life, disappears without any warning or explanation, despite being up for a huge gig - [ Checking his watch. ] - in precisely 20 hours. His flat looks untouched, his suitcase unpacked, and his family doesn't find his disappearance even slightly worrisome as they'd rather pretend he doesn't exist. Elizabeth Overstowe knows him very well indeed and has always taken care of him. He writes her in a panic, asking her to tell the police something of note - not call, mind, but tell - meaning there's either an on-going case - [ He frowns. ] - unlikely - or something soon to be reported. It's something personal or he wouldn't have inconvenienced her. It's also of at least some importance to him, seeing as he's left his job to hang in order to attend to whatever it is. [ Pause. In a low voice, almost a mutter: ] Whatever, whomever.

[ She takes a left-turn up ahead, seemingly headed... back towards mid-town? Odd. ]

[docwithablog]

[ You should think the man's done this before which, let's be real, he probably has, pulling out slowly, carefully only once the old lady's small car is nearing the main street further down. John glances sideways at him, watches while Sherlock manages to take them through what must be an unfamiliar city centre (unless he happens to have all of Liverpool crammed inside his head, too) while simultaneously summarizing the case down to the last detail and how does he multi-task that effortlessly? It's taken John literally years to perfect asking for a scalpel when in the middle of cutting people up. Christ.

Overstowe appears to not only be intimately familiar with the many turns of midtown as a general thing, but it's obvious she's perfectly familiar with whatever destination she's headed for, too. John mulls over Sherlock's presentation of Staunton's disappearance for a moment, focusing on how there seemingly has been no break-in in his apartment (no obvious signs of theft or an attack, only the rose-scented rosin) and neither has he simply opted and left, because his suitcase has been left untouched behind. What can make a man take off with only the clothes on his back, ditching a huge work opportunity like that? What makes you misdial a text asking an old friend from the past for help? Very strong feelings, presumably. ]

We're back to that, then - someone else is involved? Someone he's personally connected to and whose, what, hands smell like roses? [ Up ahead, Overstowe starts backtracking. Don't tell him they've been made already... His gaze shifts between her darkened rear window and Sherlock's face, half-lit by a passing car's headlights. ] The lonely violinist.

[acuriousincident]

[ Overstowe turns left at the next intersection, finally heading away from city centre. Sherlock keeps them at a distance, the BMW growling with every touch to the speeder. Not the most inconspicious car, is it, the chosen favourite of the Liverpool public? It's also low-set, bulky and has an ugly nose but what can you do? He inches forward, maintaining a steady speed and forcing himself not to slow down whenever Overstowe makes a turn up ahead, waiting to act until he's well out of her rearview mirror. ]

Yes. [ Left turn, right, straight ahead, next intersection. Is she speeding up? ] Question is - when is a brawl not a brawl?

[ Overstowe makes a sharp turn to the right and he realises only once he follows her that there's something peculiar about the sudden increase in her pace. She isn't hurrying along for the sake of getting anywhere faster - she's trying to lose them. With a frown, he turns off down a parallel road, knowing that they'll intercept her further down. She's a tiny old lady, surely she isn't actually stealthy enough to throw them off their game. However, they're stuck mid-town again which is a sure sign she isn't going where she's supposed to go at this point; the boots tell a different story.

Lips thinning, he sneaks the BMW forward, catching sight of her taillights as she turns left right before passing them. He waits. Follows, slowly. ]

[docwithablog]

When -- it's premeditated assault?

[ Now that he thinks about it, it's peculiar the paper would even touch down on a brawl with no arrests, what, nothing of greater importance takes place in Liverpool? It's a big city. You can't make him believe that, except they almost did and joke's on him, presumably. Good thing he managed to remember the article in due time -- and good thing Sherlock's so damn clever.

Frowning, John watches as Overstowe is most definitely quickening the pace up front and if she hasn't clocked them at this point, she's a very speed-enthusiastic old lady which fits with exactly nothing else they've discovered about her so far. Sherlock seems to have picked up on it as well, obviously, what did you expect, and turns down a parallel road all but inching down towards the crossroads where they're supposedly going to intercept her again. Sherlock catches on to her once more as she makes a left before spotting them, her taillights showing the way.

Really, John's mystery novel is cheap in every conceivable definition of the word compared to this, shit. Staunton got attacked which may have led to his sudden disappearance and Sherlock's pretty much going full-out MI6 on their escaping witness. Beats anything you can think up for kicks. ]

[acuriousincident]

[ He smiles. John always catches up, doesn't he, sooner rather than later. The same, however, can't be said for them in terms of this stupid little car chase. Overstowe turns left, turns right, disappears and - did she park the car somewhere? Yes, in someone else's drive, really! He goes past, doesn't pause, doesn't look, simply aims for a left turn further up the road. Most likely, she'll turn back the way she came. He runs through the route they've driven so far and tries to figure out when exactly she began derailing.

With how fast she's caught on to them, she definitely isn't all that surprised at being followed. Goes well with all that paranoid body language.

He drives around the blocks of houses, keeping an eye out for the back of her car. At this point, though, he's mostly curious as to whether she'll want to keep pursuing her original destination (implying that she's quite desperate to get there, regardless of circumstance) or turn back home (implying that she's got different priorities). Moments later, her car re-appears as she crosses the street, driving up a small sidestreet. A blind end, he realises, and follows along, just to see what she'll do. At this point, he'll take whatever data she'll inadvertently give away.

Or well, he would it if weren't - oh God! As the BMW rolls along the street, a front door bursts open a few houses up and an old lady - similarly tiny but angry-looking - comes rushing at them from inside with a rolling pin clutched in one hand, held over her head like a sword of ancient times and he stares for half a second before reversing, quickly, noting the parked Fiat Panda right next to the kerb. She called in a friend? A friend who's now... chasing them down the street... with a... ]

[docwithablog]

[ When Sherlock smiles, there's a smaller one tugging at the corner of John's mouth as well, seeing as he's feeling rather stupidly pleased that he's only a two-figured number of steps behind the other man now rather than, say, a hundred. Talk about making leeway. Watching the small side street shrouded in darkness and cones of streetlight, with its not quite picturesque houses passing by at an amenable pace, he looks out the window, Overstowe's Fiat Panda parked near the kerb and he has exactly five seconds to register the way she's clutching her phone in one hand, staring at them, before another old lady bursts through the nearby front door with a -- fucking -- rolling pin swinging over her head. Sherlock freezes for all of two seconds, then he starts reversing, quickly, very quickly and John goes into battle mode automatically too, turning his head and staring out the rear window at whatever takes place behind their vehicle right now. Whatever it might be, it better move, that's all he can really say. ]

Yeah, just go, go, go, coast's clear, no one's -- [ The woman's pretty fast for an elderly person, John can't remember having ever seen anyone over the age of 60 make such swift work about anything, but then again, they've survived the Blitz, you just can't faze them with anything, can you. They're moving up to the crossroads behind them and a young bloke's crossing the street without paying attention, noticing them too late and all but jumping for his life, John muttering a sorry underneath his breath before they turn out onto the main road. ] -- no one's there, I think we lost her.

[acuriousincident]

[ Damn it - more well-connected than he'd thought and more resourceful, too. Backing up quickly, gaze firmly on the rearview mirror now (the alternative - watching the charging Fury wielding a potential murder weapon - is a lot less enticing), he hits the breaks only as they burst out onto the main road. From there, he turns left and sets off, away, trying to maintain a sensible pace.

For a long moment, he doesn't speak.

A miscalculation. That's all this is, just - it would have been fine if she hadn't been so ridiculously suspicious of them. Teeth grinding audibly, he breaks hard for a red light, stares straight ahead and snaps: ]

Whatever you're currently thinking, stop it.

[ Because naturally, the other man must be thinking something and no matter what it is, Sherlock doesn't want to hear it, he doesn't even want to imagine it. Hands clutching the wheel, he keeps his eyes on the road, thinking about all the time they've just wasted on nothing, on gaining data on her, yes, but that's useless in itself. He can see why Staunton would choose her for his confidante, yes, so what, then, he's not a complete and total idiot? He's still missing, though. The case, unsolved.

Some of this comes out as angry mutterings as the light turns green and he speeds up again. ]

[docwithablog]

[ They continue down the main road mostly as if nothing's happened, John's palms feeling sweaty and his heart rate only slowly returning to something resembling normal (110 bpm, 100 bpm, 90 bpm) while Sherlock is audibly grinding his teeth and looking one wrong word from losing it. Observing him out the corner of his eye, quietly, John wonders what the hell went wrong -- didn't the other man anticipate that Overstowe would have any network to draw upon, come on, she's an old lady, living alone, they don't have anything else. Look at Mrs Hudson! Earlier in the day it was the neighbour, now, apparently, came the time for the rolling pin monstrosity which has its own kind of humour, if he's honest.

Stop it, snaps Sherlock, breaking hard for a red light and making John slam forward in his seatbelt. John, in turn, raises both eyebrows slightly, pursing his lips and inclining his head just a tad argumentatively to the side. ]

I'm not thinking anything.

[ A big fat lie, sounding exactly as big and fat as it is, but what can you do. He's not going to fault the man for one little slip, that would be pretty hypocritical of him. Sherlock's got amazing skill in this regard, but all great talents come with a margin for error, they quite simply got to. He knows it from his own work, too. If he had to stop operating on people every time a surgery went wrong -- well, shit, he'd have to retire many times over from the Army before his time actually came, yeah.

Leaving Sherlock to mutter his angry observations all to himself, John proceeds to look out the window, Liverpool gritty and raw in the semi-darkness covering the streets outside. ]