Watching You Fall Omegle 73

Stranger: "Alright," John said, laying the note flat on the table in front of him. "Why don't we start by looking into this letter more? You said that not of this ever happened, correct? Could she maybe have coded a note into it telling us what was going on or where she is?"

You: "I've read through it a hundred times," Rene replied, sighing sadly and tangling his fingers together in worry. "There's nothing I can make sense of but I thought.... maybe Sherlock might have been able to."

Stranger: "We'll see, now shall we?" John muttered, taking his phone from his pocket and loading up the camera. He lined up the shot and took the picture of the letter, pasting it into an email and putting Sherlock's address into the "send to" bar. He sent it off before dialing Sherlock's number into his phone and raising it to his ear, listening to it ring three times before it was answered.

You: "Well?" Sherlock asked imperiously, a thread of excitement in his voice. "What did Rene have to say? Do we have a case, John?"

Stranger: "Working on it," John said, shaking his head at the excitement in his lover's voice. "Check your mail, I need to see if you can figure something out for us."

You: There was silence and excited breathing as Sherlock moved around the flat. There was the faint clacking of keys followed by Sherlock's laugh. "Really, John, that was your password? Getting sentimental, are we?"

Stranger: "I- um... I have no idea what you're talking about, Sherlock," John blushed, trying to play off his password. He knew Sherlock wouldn't fall for it, but it was worth a try.

You: "You know very well what I'm talking about, John, don't deny it," Sherlock replied with a smug edge to his tone. "And even if I didn't know that, you lie very poorly. There's always a hesitance in your voice when you try to lie to me. Now be quiet, I'm trying to read this letter." There was silence on the line again as Sherlock's eyes scanned the letter, annoyance rising at the digital copy rather than the original. There was only so much he could see, so much more he could see if he could just have the physical letter.

Stranger: John cleared his throat away from the speaker of the phone before raising it back up to his ear. "What do you see, Sherlock?" John asked after a while of silence. When Sherlock didn't answer, John said, "Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm still here," Sherlock said irritably, squinting at the lettering of the letter. "Mary wrote this in some haste, you can tell by the slant of the lettering. There are letters that are written lighter while others are written heavier, indicating a pause or some hesitance at the lighter letters. I think she was writing this at someone's direction. Of course, I could tell so much more about it if I was there myself."

Stranger: "Do what you can, Sherlock," John said irritably, rolling his eyes in Rene's direction for effect. "I'm sure you'll do just as well with what you have. It's never stopped you before."

You: Sherlock grumbled wordlessly but turned back to the image, smiling a bit at John's flattery. The man really knew what to say to get Sherlock to work at what he had. He turned the image this way and that, a little awkward with John's computer but he managed. And finally, a lightbulb went off. There was a smudge on one corner of the paper, something that didn't quite belong. "John? Can you look at the bottom left corner of the letter and tell me what that smudge is? It's difficult to see with this picture. Be precise in your description."

Stranger: "Smudge?" John questioned, raising the letter closer to his face to squint at the smudged image in the corner. "It looks like... A number? Maybe a different language. Rene, did you and Mary ever have a secret code - numerical or word - that was meant as an SOS?" John asked, looking up at Rene.

You: "We didn't really talk about a numerical SOS," Rene replied slowly, confusion spreading across his face. "The reference I told you about before was the SOS. Maybe the number tells you where she is? Can you see what number it is?"

John shook his head slowly. "Sherlock, can you zoom in and clear up the smudge in the corner there on the computer?" he asked, squinting at the ink.

You: "Give me a minute," Sherlock muttered distractedly, fiddling with the image on the screen. It took him longer than he liked but finally the corner was as visible as it was going to get. The numbers read 2 followed by a space and then 18. "Two eighteen," Sherlock announced once he had made sense of the numbers. "Does that mean anything to Rene?"

Stranger: "Two, eighteen," John repeated, watching as Rene shook his head slowly. "Doesn't seem like it. And it wouldn't make sense to be a point on a map, does it?"

You: "No, there's not enough numbers," Sherlock replied, skimming through his mind palace for any significance to the numbers. "Could they be an address or a locker number of some sort? Some train stations have lockers, for instance. Or a deposit box in a bank. Did Mary have anything like that that Rene might know?"

Stranger: "I'll check... but, Sherlock, could it be for minutes and seconds on a ship map? Are there more numbers we're missing?" John asked, lifting the paper back to his face to start scanning for more smudges.

You: "It may be but I didn't really see any other num....," Sherlock started to say then trailed off as his mouth dropped open. He scanned through the text of the letter again, a grin stretching his lips. "Oh, she was clever. The rest of the numbers are in the letter itself! And John, there are enough for me to find a location on a map."

Stranger: "How long would it take you to work it out?" John asked, a small smile pulling at his lips at his lover's excitement.

You: "Give me a minute," Sherlock repeated, dropping the phone on the desk. He leaped up and hurried to the bookshelves, searching hurriedly for the atlas he knew he kept there. Finally finding it, Sherlock headed back to the desk and double-checked the numbers. Flipping to the correct page in the atlas, he found the coordinates Mary had written in her letter. "She's in Berlin," Sherlock said triumphantly. "That narrows it down, I'd say."

Stranger: "Berlin," John said to Rene, who nodded and pulled a laptop he had sitting on the table closer to him. "Rene is booking a flight there now, Sherlock. Do you think... it's safe for you to go?"

You: "I don't see why not," Sherlock replied immediately, a grin tugging at his lips. Finally, a case! "According to Mycroft, London is dangerous, not Berlin. Why don't I meet you at the airport? What flight is Rene booking? I'll book seats for us on the same one."

Stranger: "He's booking flight 946 at one-forty," John said, standing and watching over Rene's shoulder as he booked the flight. "I'll be home in about thirty, okay? I need to pack a few things and I'd like to clean my gun, just in case."

You: "I'll see you at home, John," Sherlock told him, a smile crossing his face. "And I will book us two seats on the same flight. Tell Rene not to worry. We'll find Mary."

Stranger: "See you soon," John said, hanging up the phone and turning back to Rene. "Sherlock is going to book us a few seats on the same flight. We'll find Mary in no time."

You: Rene carefully folded the letter and let out a relieved sigh. He tucked it into a pocket then looked up at John, a cautious smile on his face. "Thank you, John," Rene said earnestly, reaching out to shake John's hand. "If Sherlock and you hadn't helped, I don't know what I would have done. I would never have figured out the rest of her message."

Stranger: "It's our pleasure," John said as he shook Rene's hand and they made their way to the front door. "We'll see you in the airport."

You: Rene nodded and closed the door behind John. He packed quickly, filling a small suitcase with clothes and making sure to pack the gun Mycroft had insisted he wear at all times. He had no idea who had taken Mary but had a feeling that gun might come in handy. With one last look around his flat, Rene walked out and locked the door, heading down to find a cab to take him to the airport.

Stranger: John hailed a cab outside of Rene's flat and climbed the stairs of 221B after paying the cabbie. "Sherlock, you book the flight?" John asked as he entered the flat and peeled off his shoes.

You: "Yes, John, I did," Sherlock murmured as he wrapped his arms around John's waist and pulled him against his chest. "Welcome home."

Stranger: "I wasn't gone that long," John laughed, wrapping his arms around the detective and rocking up to place a light kiss on his jaw.

You: "No but I still missed you. It felt like those three years all over again, a little bit," Sherlock admitted quietly, voice more breath than sound. "But we have a case now! I've been a bit bored without one."

Stranger: John chuckled lightly and placed another kiss to Sherlock's jaw. "Alright, love," he smiled. "But I have to ask you to still be careful. We don't want people recognizing you just yet."

You: "Of course I'll be careful," Sherlock replied, a touch indignant. He laughed and pressed a kiss to John's lips before pulling the other man towards the bedroom. "We need to pack though. We've only got a few hours before we need to be on that plane. Tell me, how did Rene seem to you? Something tells me Mycroft might know more than he's telling, instructing Rene to continue on as he has been."

Stranger: "He seemed..." John paused for a moment, replaying how Rene acted all through his time with the man. "Worried... but not as worried as he should have been. What are you thinking?"

You: Sherlock didn't answer immediately, instead pulling out a suitcase from underneath his bed. He packed it quickly, lips pursed in thought as he worked through the possibilities. "There are three possibilities I can see," Sherlock finally said, pausing with a blue dress shirt in hand to look at John. "Either Rene knows exactly who took her and can't get her back on his own, Mycroft knows who took her and isn't telling Rene, or no one knows anything but Rene isn't as worried as he might be because of Mary's training. Somehow, I think the last scenario is the least likely."

Stranger: "The second seems a little too much of a stretch to me," John said, sitting on the bed as Sherlock finished up packing. "It sounds like the first one would be more likely to happen, honestly." John stood as Sherlock zipped up his bag and they left Sherlock's room. Sherlock put his bag by the front door and went to meet John in his room to pack. "I don't know," John said as Sherlock joined him. "They all seem like a bit of a stretch."

You: "It could be that no one knows anything," Sherlock shrugged, watching John move around his room. The doctor always moved with sure, decisive steps and he was a surprisingly pleasure to watch. "I wish I could have been there, been able to study Rene. Agh! So much possible information lost because I wasn't there."

Stranger: "You know it's still too big of a risk," John said, moving across the room to grab a few shirts from his dresser before moving back over to his bed and placing them in his bag. He pecked Sherlock on the lips before continuing, "We don't want to take the chance of having everything you've worked towards fall apart now, do we?"

You: Sherlock grimaced and grumbled under his breath, but he had to admit that John was completely right. He hadn't spent the last three years infiltrating Moriarty's network and taking out each player one by one to throw it all away now. Finally, Sherlock nodded at John. "Are you almost done packing?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject. "We really need to go. Not that we don't have plenty of time but I've had issues with airport security before. They're all incompetent idiots."

Stranger: John just chuckled as he started towards the bathroom. He grabbed the few items he needed and returned to his room, throwing them in the bag. He packed his gun away and nodded at Sherlock. "I'm done," he said, placing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "You ready to get going?"

You: Sherlock wrapped an arm over John's shoulders, yet again happy that he was taller than the other man. And it was refreshing to be so tactile when for so long he'd avoided most human contact. Unless it was for a case, of course. As they walked back out into the living room, Sherlock left John long enough to grab his own bag from the bedroom. He double-checked for his passport then nodded to John. "Ready?" he asked, opening the front door and making a beckoning gesture.

Stranger: John just nodded and passed Sherlock through the door, making his way down to the sidewalk and stepping up to the curb. He raised his hand as a taxi drove by and sighed as it passed, ignoring him completely. "I've never been good at this," he muttered, looking up and down the street in search of another taxi.

You: Behind him, Sherlock let out a piercing whistle and lifted a hand imperiously. The next taxi stopped and Sherlock laughed as John just shook his head. "I've gotten good at summoning them," Sherlock explained lightly, taking the bags and stowing them in the trunk as John slid into the car. They headed to the airport, watching the streets of London roll past them.

Stranger: "How do you do it?" John asked, watching as Sherlock stared out at the passing people. "I've never been able to do it, and you just... it happens for you. Right away."

You: "I don't really know," Sherlock shrugged, only a little perturbed at admitting there was something he didn't know. "Mostly I just know they're going to stop and they do."

Stranger: John hummed and looked out the window as Sherlock turned back to do the same. "Maybe I ought to try that then."

You: Sherlock nodded and reached for John's hand blindly, wrapping his long fingers around John's. They spent the rest of the cab ride quietly, their joined hands the only point of contact. But it was enough and far more than John had believed he'd ever have even just a few months ago. The airport was busy when they got there but the cabbie was able to drop them off right at the entrance. Sherlock got out to get their bags while John paid.

Stranger: John waited as Sherlock handed him his bag and they started inside, making their way through the ticket counter quickly despite the long line - Sherlock somehow being able to talk them to the front - and was soon on their way to the security gate.

You: John just shook his head and followed Sherlock past the ticket counter and then through security. It helped that they had already ordered their tickets. They just needed to confirm them with their ID's. On the other side of security, they found Rene sitting impatiently, a carry-on bag next to his feet. He waved despondently when he saw them, though his eyes brightened a little when they found Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock moved quickly over to where Rene was sitting, John right on his heels. "I wish I could see it was nice to see you again, Rene," Sherlock said as Rene stood and shook his hand. "But, seeing the circumstances, I don't think you're very pleased to see me either."

You: "Under these circumstances, no," Rene chuckled dryly as he shook Sherlock's hand. "Thank you for your help. I don't think I can find her on my own and I'm worried about Mary."

Stranger: "I think it's safe to say we all are," John said as Sherlock held out his hand for the letter. "If I may," he said as Rene began digging for it in his bag

You: "I figured you'd want to see it for yourself," Rene said as he found the letter tucked into a book. He handed it over without another word, hope blazing in his eyes. "What do you think?"

Stranger: Sherlock was silent for a long while, his eyes scanning over the letter in his hand. "There are a couple possibilities," he said slowly. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "I'll get a better look at it on the plane. I want to be able to sit down and test a few theories out before giving a definite answer."

You: Rene opened his mouth to object, almost bursting with the need to know where Mary was. Yet a glance at Sherlock's determined face and John's accepting one, Rene closed his mouth again. When he'd worked with Sherlock, the man had shown an incredible need to show off and always tended to wait until he had as many facts as he could. Settling back in his chair, Rene rubbed a hand over his face. "I suppose it won't be too much longer," he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

Stranger: John nodded and pulled out his ticket, looking at the plane number. "I’m going to go check the boards to make sure the everything is still on time. I may grab a coffee as well. Anyone want anything? Love?" John asked, standing and shrugging his backpack onto one shoulder, looking at Sherlock and Rene, then, of course, back at Sherlock.

You: "No, thank you," Rene replied at the same time Sherlock shook his head irritably. He watched John walk away and turned to Sherlock. "So I see things went well between you too after you came back here."

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said simply as he watched John's back retreat until he disappeared into the crowd. "It's hard to imagine it any other way now. It doesn't feel like we've only been together for a few months. It feels like so much longer. Like before I faked my death just never happened. So much has changed - both in who we are and how everything around just simply... Feels."

You: "You have the soul of a Frenchman," Rene laughed, forced though it sounded. There was an ache in his chest, one that had appeared when Mary hadn't checked in on time. He doubted it would go away until they found her. If they found her. "You seem more at ease, more whole, with him. It's how I feel with Mary."

Stranger: "I feel whole with him," Sherlock smiled slightly. "He's made me a better person, everyone can see it who knew me before. He just... does something to me that I can't help but let it drive me crazy." Sherlock shook his head and turned back to Rene, seeing the understanding in his eyes, along with the worry. "Don't worry," he muttered quietly, "we'll find her. I promise."

You: John came back a few minutes later, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand. He settled down next to Sherlock, their shoulders touching while John looked at the letter in Sherlock's hands. Rene had read the thing over and over until he'd memorized every stroke, every discoloration in the paper. They sat in silence, John slowly emptying his cup, before their plane was called to board.

Stranger: Sherlock stood from his seat, pocketing the letter once more and shouldering his pack on. He waited while John jostled his coffee and pack in his hands before he wrapped an arm around John's middle and steered him towards the ticket gate. They got a few disapproving looks but Sherlock didn't care. He liked touching John and he wasn't about to stop just because some shallow people couldn't turn their attention elsewhere.

You: As they waited in line, Rene sighing more than once in impatience, John finished the rest of his coffee. With a small grin at Sherlock, he unwrapped the detective's arm from around his waist and walked back to a trash can to throw the empty cup away. By the time he came back, non-first class passengers were being allowed to board. Rene handed his ticket and passport over for a few seconds before being waved on into the plane. He hurriedly walked down the hallway to the plane and found his seat, Sherlock and John just a few steps behind him.

Stranger: As John took his seat next to Sherlock, he weaved an arm through the detective's and rested his head on his lover's shoulder, sighing and trying to relax just a bit. "I never was fond of flying," he admitted to his boyfriend as Sherlock looked down at him. "I don't mind it, but it's just stressful and a little worrisome. Not to mention if there's kids on board..." John sighed again and let his eyes fall closed. "What about you? Do you enjoy flying?"

You: "No, I really don't like flying at all," Sherlock replied through gritted teeth as the plane taxied up to its runway. He resolutely closed the window so he wouldn't have to look outside. "It's a bit terrifying, actually." He bit off the last word as the engines roared and the plane shot down the runway, building up enough speed to take off. He gripped John's hand hard without even noticing, closing his eyes and biting his lip to keep from gibbering.

Stranger: "Love?" John muttered, placing his other hand on top of Sherlock's. He flinched as he felt the plane lurch slightly as the wheels left the ground. He moved a little closer to Sherlock and looked up at his boyfriend, thankful that he had closed the window. "Are you okay?"

You: "Perfectly all right, John," Sherlock replied through gritted teeth, thankful that his voice was steady. He tried to ignore the feeling of being tilted as the plane climbed, unable to help counting the meters as the plane rose. A smile was out of the question but Sherlock managed to open his eyes and glance down at John to reassure the other man.

Stranger: "You know I can tell when you're lying, love," John muttered back, squeezing the man's arm as a half hug half security anchor as his stomach flipped and the plane turned. He swallowed heavily and looked up at his lover. "Are you okay?"

You: "I'll be fine when we land," Sherlock replied, the only concession to his fear he would offer. He managed a smile for John, small and sickly though it was. Rene was ignoring both of them from his seat a few rows behind, fingering the letter Mary had sent him. He had no fear of flying, enjoyed it actually, but on this trip, the view out his window was in no way diverting. Worry for Mary filled Rene's mind and he reread the letter again for what felt like the hundredth time.

Stranger: When the pilot finally came over the intercom saying they'd be landed in the next twenty minutes, John couldn't help the relief that flooded through him. "Almost over," he half told himself half told Sherlock. "Though we still need to sit through the landing..."

You: Sherlock nodded tightly and struggled to breathe normally. When the time came for the plane to descend, he gripped John's hand tighter and resolutely closed his eyes. Despite all his fears, the plane landed safely and taxied to the terminal. Sherlock was one of the first off, grabbing his bag and rushing off the plane. John followed a few steps behind while Rene was behind a large and boisterous group. "All right, give me the letter again," Sherlock told Rene, holding out an imperious hand. Back on solid ground, he'd recovered completely. "I'm certain it will tell us where she's being held."