Red string

The faint scent of burnt matches lingered in the familiar police station, clinging to the scuffed floors and the stale air.

Charles Watson’s shoes tapped against the worn tiles, each step echoing too loud for a place that knew too many secrets. His hand stayed buried in his coat pocket, fingers brushing the cold shape hidden there.

Officer Brown looked up from his stack of papers before calling back

“Someone go fetch Holmes!” Before his eyes shifted back.

“Mr. Watson, third time this month.” Officer Brown said

Watson's shoes stopped just short of the desk “I'm aware” he sighed before hearing her familiar voice.

He looked over to see one of the policemen escort her out.

“Charles! My man!” She smiled as she shrugged the officer's hand off.

“Pen-” Smith started

“Ah nope. Miss Holmes if you would.” she said, smiling before making her way over Charles, linking her arm with his.

“Shall we, my dear Watson?” She hummed as she led him out, leaving. Leaving the two officers there.

“I don't know what I had been expecting from the granddaughter of Sherlock Holmes and grandson of Dr. John Watson….but I had been hoping for less trouble..” Brown said as he pushed his papers aside.

“I knew they'd be trouble.” Smith snipped before turning on his heels.

“Penny…” Watson started as he guided her to his car.

“Come now, it was worth it, my dear Watson” Holmesshe smiled, those sharp blue eyes meeting his own warm brown. As she She reached into her shirt, pulling out a folded paper.

“Because I have found our next lead!” she smiled, her all toothy grin. Her arm squeezing his own excitedly.

He sighed before moving to open the door for her as she rambled excitedly.

She unfolded the paper before opening it, her eyes scanning over the contentspaper as she mumbled to herself…names and numbers, flying from her mouth like a symphony.

They drove along the muddy streets, Holmes’her eyes glued on the paper before she closed themher eyes. She disappearsDisappearing into her mind.

WatsonHe glanced at her briefly. “Damn women” heHe mumbled before watching the street lamps start to come on.

“Penny.” He tried to say, only for her to ignore him.

“Penny.” He tried again before sighing.

“For fucks sake…Holmes!”

he said, her Holmes’blue eyes snap open and shifting to Watsonhim.

“why can't you just respond to your name-” He started to ask,. Even even thoughtho he knew the answer. Had since they were kids.

“Holmes is my name. Part of it, at least and you know this. For I am Penelope Shirley Holmes. Born with it and I will die with it.”

She stated before looking back at the paper, f. Forgetting to keep him in the loop. Again.

He shook his head slightly before pulling up to their shop. The glass reading in white font “Holmes and Watson Detective Aagency”.

As they entergot in, Watsonhe watched Holmesher run up the stairs to her room, hearing the door swing open and drawers rip open.

He could just imagine her fishing for her extra ink pens and paper, while grabbing her red yarn.

He made his way to his own room, across from hers. Most would say it's improper for a woman and man who aren’t married to live in the same house who aren't married, but to her it. It was improper for a Holmes and Watson not to.to not be together.

WatsonHe kicked off his shoes before sinking into his chair at his desk, papers everywhere. as he He closed his eyes, letting his hand hover over his coat pocket.

He could still remember what his own father had said about the Holmeses when him and Penny bought this building.

“Those Holmeses get lost inside their minds, that's why God created us Watsons to make sure they don't get trapped.””...

He remembered how his father had said it like it was scripture., as As if biblical or aand also fact you'd find in a textbook.

He opened his eyes slightly, before letting his hand fall away from the pocket and reaching for his pen.

The clocks ticked by as the sound of pens scratching and feet shuffling filled the hallway between their bed rooms. Light bleeding out from each bedroom into a soft golden over the worn wood.

He glanced at his clock…reading 2am. He sighed before rubbing the bridge of his nose and pushing his chair away from his desk. Letting his feet take him to her room.

He crossed over the golden ray to her door, leaning against the door frame. Watching her move around the room like a dance, with pictures and notes and red string draped from one board to another.

“Holmes..” He said, making her head turn, those brilliant blue eyes meeting his.

“Oh! Good, come here I need you to hold something” she beamed waving him in as he pushed himself off the door frame and towards her. Holding the red yarn ball she handed him.

He watched her shuffle around and adjust her papers…his free hand resting in his pocket as the red string hung loosely between them.

He watched her nearly trip over some extra string and paper on the ground before pushing her hair out of her face.

Her brown hair was a wreck, but then again, when wasn't it?

“I think tomorrow we should head to the morgue house” she mumbled

“It is tomorrow” He gestured to her clock covered in papers, reading 2:50am…

“Oh, well so.. it is” she shrugged before taking the yarn ball from him.

“Thank you my dear Watson” she said absently..mostly out of habit.

Sometimes he wondered if she simply kept him around because of his name…

“Holmes..” He said, making her blue eyes shift to his own warm brown.

His mouth opening and closing before once more opening “would you mind telling me what you know so far? Keeping me in the loop like we talked about before” He reminded, his voice cracking slightly.

Her eyes scanned over him before nodding “right right. Yes” she confirmed before grabbing his hand and pushing him back into her empty desk chair.

He sat back, resting his head in his hands, “That body wasn't dead from natural causes, we both know that. It was honestly insulting they questioned me- Us on that fact” she started before grabbing her rolling chalkboard.

The board covered in papers, pictures and red string…

He was half listening, knowing she'd simply repeat herself again tomorrow if he asked. He knew if she didn't say and get this all out of her brain, she wouldn't sleep.

He listened to her talk, listened to how her voice rose and fell with conviction and fact and yet those blue eyes would turn to him every so often and wait for him to nod before she repeated.

It reminded him of when they were in school together as kids, how those blue eyes would always search for him when she spoke to others. Like he was the translator for the world when they couldn't understand her…

He folded his arms as he leaned back in his chair, his hand resting over his pocket before looking at her face.

Her face smudged with ink and dark circles resting under her sharp eyes.

“Holmes” He said softly as she took a breath, ready to continue before she looked back at him.

“I believe I'll be calling it a night, let the fact sink in better…don't you think?” He asked as he stood, her brows furrowed slightly before nodding.

“Sleep is crucial for remembering facts… it facilitates memory consolidation” she mumbled to herself before her brows smoothed out slightly. “Right! Then, we'll sleep and then later today, we'll go to morgue” she declared.

Ushering him out of her room like it had been her idea, she was about to shut her door and cut off some of the gold light before “goodnight Penny” He softly put.

She paused “goodnight Charles” before she shut the door, leaving him to walk into his own room. He was only a foot away from his bed before feeling something tug at his leg. He looked down to see a red string stuck to pants by whatever glue she used.

His eyes followed the red string back to underneath her door as he shook his head slightly. He pulled the string off before laying in his bed, his hand wandering to his pocket as he closed his eyes.