Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter Five: Sherlock's Bored and He Has a Gun -revised-

CHAPTER FIVE: SHERLOCK’S BORED AND HE HAS A GUN

Sherlock was bored—incredibly and utterly bored out of his mind. Belarus had been one of the most boring cases he’d ever been on. Amelia had been quite right in her early deduction, Barry Berwick had had dissociative amnesia. In fact, the instant he got put on trial, he remembered why he’d killed his girlfriend: because she’d been trying to get him off the booze, and when he’d come home completely drunk, she’d yelled at him. So he’d killed her.

People did such strange things sometimes.

Sherlock’s boredom had even gotten to the point where he’d scrubbed off the first smiley face from the wall and painted a newer, larger one. Then he’d proceeded to assemble the new grey winged armchair Amelia had ordered for herself without reading the instructions. That had taken a good portion of an hour.

Sherlock let out a groan, slumping in his seat. He sighed, and stretched his long legs in front of him, crossing one bare foot over the other. Sherlock pointed his L9A1 Browning at the wall, a smirk tugging at the corner of his thin, pale lips as he heard the main door open and shut.

It appeared Amelia and John were back.

He now had an audience.

So he might as well put on a show.

Sherlock shot the smiley face on the wall, the sound of the bullet hitting the wall echoing throughout Baker Street like a whip cracking. He shot it once more as John and Amelia came running up the stairs. John had his fingers in his ears while Amelia’s red lips were curled up into a wide grin, as if she were proud of what the detective was doing.

“What the hell are you doing?” John demanded angrily.

“Bored.” Sherlock said sulkily, Amelia raising her eyebrow questioningly and trying to bite back laughter.

“What?” John said, staring at the detective, trying to ensure he’d heard him correctly.

“Bored!” Sherlock shouted, jumping off of his chair and to his feet, gun outstretched.

John immediately recoiled, years of military training starting to kick in. He pushed Amelia behind him protectively. She immediately punched him in order to get him to move.

“Bored!” Sherlock said again, shooting at the He reached his arm around his back and shot from his left waist. “Bored!” He reluctantly let Amelia hurry over and snatch the pistol away from him and remove the clip. She smiled apologetically as she did so, pocketing the clip in her back pocket and handing John the gun. He glared at the face on the wall, moving to the sofa and collapsing on it. “Don’t know what’s gotten into the criminal classes. Good job I’m not one of them.”

John locked the pistol in a small safe on the desk, looking worriedly at his friends. “So you take it out on the wall.” He turned to Amelia and then added, “And so does she. Dear God, no wonder you two get along so well.”

“Ah,” Sherlock said vaguely, smiling at Amelia as he ran a hand over the painted face. “The wall had it coming.” He turned sideways, flopping backwards onto the sofa. His head landed onto a perfectly placed pillow, his legs draped over the side of the armrest.

“What about the Russian case?” John pressed, glad to finally have a moment to discuss what had happened in Belarus. He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t want to discuss it with anybody but Amelia but he waited for Sherlock’s answer anyways.

Sherlock kicked the end of sofa, pushing himself into an upright position so he could see his flatmates better. “Belarus,” Sherlock corrected condescendingly. “Open and shut domestic murder.” He turned to look at Amelia briefly, “You were right though. Dissociative amnesia. Still boring.”