He was actually running behind schedule today and didn't make it home until around six-thirty. The computer system in the library had gone down in the afternoon and, as a result, the process took longer than John would have liked. In this climate, sticking to a schedule was something he was keen to do. There was less of a chance of receiving an unpleasant surprise that way, especially when the law enforcement in this new regime seemed to knock on his door more than the other tenants in the building.
As he started fishing around for his keys outside his apartment, he sensed something seemed out of place and his heart leapt into his throat. His days had become long and dull, but his senses were as sharp as ever and he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong, but he just knew something seemed off. When he hadn't discovered body parts placed in haphazard places, it was one benefit about living with a detective and had picked up the skills to become one himself... before everything went to hell.
John soon calmed down, however, when he realized Blackheath wasn't causing a riot from inside the apartment. If something was amiss in there, he was sure the pit bull terrier would be raising hell about it. Again, it was a benefit to getting a dog at the end of the day. Making sure to muffle the noise on his end, John unlocked the door and pushed it open a crack, then opened it wide.
The sight of Sherlock and Blackheath sound asleep in his apartment drew a small smile from John. He wasn't surprised to see him. Not really. He often dropped in unannounced on him and it had been a few months since he last saw Sherlock Holmes. He stared at them for a moment and then walked carefully around them to the window, where he flicked the cigarette out onto the street below and started to quietly clear away the dishes. He didn't have the heart to wake them up, even though Blackheath soon leapt up and greeted his owner with an enthusiastic wag of his tail, deciding to let his friend get some well-needed rest.
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As he started fishing around for his keys outside his apartment, he sensed something seemed out of place and his heart leapt into his throat. His days had become long and dull, but his senses were as sharp as ever and he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong, but he just knew something seemed off. When he hadn't discovered body parts placed in haphazard places, it was one benefit about living with a detective and had picked up the skills to become one himself... before everything went to hell.
John soon calmed down, however, when he realized Blackheath wasn't causing a riot from inside the apartment. If something was amiss in there, he was sure the pit bull terrier would be raising hell about it. Again, it was a benefit to getting a dog at the end of the day. Making sure to muffle the noise on his end, John unlocked the door and pushed it open a crack, then opened it wide.
The sight of Sherlock and Blackheath sound asleep in his apartment drew a small smile from John. He wasn't surprised to see him. Not really. He often dropped in unannounced on him and it had been a few months since he last saw Sherlock Holmes. He stared at them for a moment and then walked carefully around them to the window, where he flicked the cigarette out onto the street below and started to quietly clear away the dishes. He didn't have the heart to wake them up, even though Blackheath soon leapt up and greeted his owner with an enthusiastic wag of his tail, deciding to let his friend get some well-needed rest.