Aug 25, 2010 20:59
It had only been a few days after he arrived that the popular bar and club Rush had collapsed suddenly. Sherlock was thrilled. In those few days he had grown completely bored of the happy perfect ideal city. No murders, no crimes, what was wrong? Even though he assured his roommate that he didn't sulk, it certainly seemed like sulking. He paced across the living room, sighed loudly, and flopped onto the sofa more than once.
Then news spread fast about the collapse. As usual, everyone seemed clueless as to how or why it collapsed. Sherlock smiled like a kid at Christmas and took Joanna's phone, without thinking of asking her of course, and quickly sent a mass message to everyone:
Text any accounts or information about Rush to me.
SH
Anyone with half a brain would realize that the text wasn't from Joanna, merely her phone. Anyone with the other half of a brain would figure out who 'SH' was by looking at the list of contact list. Without word to his roommate he pocketed her phone, grabbed his coat and went straight to the site. Sherlock stepped under the police tape and looked around, carefully scaling the rubble.
death,
sherlock holmes,
faith lehane