(no subject)
Sep. 26th, 2010 02:33 pm![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Well, why should he have to wait for Sherlock to rescue him? He could rescue himself. And surely others would realize he was gone before Sherlock did. Mrs. Hudson, perhaps. Harry, maybe? And they’d go to the police and the police would try to find him and they wouldn’t so they’d go to Sherlock.
John dropped his head. His chest was aching. Something had broken, he could tell. The wound to the back of his head had stopped bleeding. He could feel the dried, caking blood tightening his skin. He had a concussion, most likely. And he was starving.
----
“Based on the residue, this hasn’t been used in the past several days. When did John last do his laundry?” Sherlock snapped his fingers, remembering. “Last week. We’d been arguing over paying the TV license. I don’t want the television anyway, so it’s only logical that John pay the full fee himself. However, he was adamant that I’m watching as much Trisha as he is, which is ridiculous, so we should split the cost. That was Monday. He’d thrown powder all over his trousers during the argument. Which means clothes from Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are in the basket. Thursday. He hasn’t been here since Thursday.”