John dreamt that Sherlock is falling in front of him on the stone-hard pavement, lying in his own blood - dead! He, John Watson, wasn´t be able to save him, to rescue him. He looked up from the pavement and saw his friend Sherlock and Sissi, his new flatmate hand in hand standing on a blossomed meadow waving at him. They turned and walked away hand in hand in a glittering sunlight what seems to come from overall. This time his nightmare turned into something peacefully.
John Watson awoke, took a deep breath and stood up. He checked the alarm clock. Quarter past three on 24th December 2012. He sighed. He was not in the mood for Chrismas. He went to the bathroom. Before John it arrived, he saw a light downstairs. It seemed Sissi, his new flatmate was there. John got curios. He walked as quite as possible downstairs and peeked into the living room. Sybille also called Sissi, sat in front of her laptop on Sherlock´s desk and gestured and mimicked angry without making any noise. It seemed she got a row with her computer. Then she lay back at her chair closing her eyes, but not for long. She put her elbows on the desk, press her palms together like a prayer and looked thinking the fingertips at her chin. It reminded John to Sherlock. He often did this posture. John tried to understand what she is doing. She didn´t read his blog, he was sure. Suddenly she held up her smart phone what was connected with her laptop and tied something out - with less success. She sighed, lay back at her chair and yawned. Then she stook up, closed her laptop, turned of the desk lamp and moved toward door. John hurried up to go upstairs. She went upstairs, too, taking her equipment with her. John had not the faintest idea what´s going on. She went in Sherlock´s former bedroom, turned the light on and closed the door. John went to bed, too. He wanted to ask her some hours later.
Dr John Watson, the invalid Army doctor, who lost his friend Sherlock three month ago, was trying to forget, what happend in his past. He had to live on. But he was still in a sad mood. Even at this day. It was a grey Christmas Eve morning, but this day wasn´t as cold as the last few days. He went to Oxford Street to buy some last-minute presents for Mrs Hudson, his landlady, for Harry, his sister and for Sissi, his new flatmate. He had already bought perfume for all three ladies and hurried up to go home. He hates shopping.
As he reached Baker Street with his yellow paper bag, he saw plenty of big dark vehicles of a Squad team. Two black uniformed men armed with machine guns were in front of the entrance. What was going on? A bomb threat? A raid? John looked puzzled as he arrived to the black front door of 221B Baker Street. All doors were wide open. A black uniformed man was carrying filled crates out of the house. John could walk in. At the narrow staircase he could hear Mrs Hudson and Mary´s worried voices. Both were in the ground floor kitchen with someone from the team, questioning. Dr Watson walked upstairs. Some black uniformed men were searching for something and packing. Two of the Squad team held machine guns in their hands. In the middle of the old-fashion, with four different wall paper at the wall decoreted, weird looking living room stood Mycroft Holmes. An elegant well-dressed gentleman with his black umbrella was an anachronism in that chaotic, odd stuffed room. He was delegating as he recognized the intruder: "John! I didn´t know, that you goes to the spies. The technique what do you used - was it from your military carrier?" "What? What do you talking about?" John asked angry and confused. "Oh," Mycroft smiled dangerously: "It is your new flatmate, who is a spy, isn´t she?" He took a small book out of his expensive-looking grey-blue jacket and continued: "You wrote: "Sybille Smith also called Sissi like the Austrian Emperor!" She was it who tried it?! What do you know about her?" "She tried what?" John asked as stiff as he had met him the first time as an "arch-enemy" of Sherlock Holmes in a warehouse. "She tried a break-in in our security system." Mycroft watched carefully John´s reaction by that news. "So...?" Dr Watson looked stern. He remembered what happened on that day in the early morning. John thought, he knew now, why Sybille got a row with her laptop. But was that the correct conclusion? "So?" echoed Mycroft with a bitter smile and interrupted John´s thoughts. "Well, you know what it means, don´t you? She is a mole! How long do you know her?" "Just a couple of days." John answered truthfully but reluctant. "Where do you met her?" "She met me, actually. She wanted to eat and drink and having a hot bath.That´s all!" "Oh... You are a Good Samaritan. And where is she now?" Mycroft observed John Watson´s face carefully in order to see any hint what leads him to her. "I don´t know. She went out very early. Perhaps, she is buying some presents." An elder member of the Squad team walked to Mycroft Holmes with a mobile phone at his ear. "Sir, the break-in is done!" "What? When... and how?" Mycroft asked frowning the man. "A half hour before, Sir, nine zero five! They don´t know how but they´re researching it." Mycoft Holmes sent the man away, looked to John in a dangerouse way and said coldly: "If I were you, I would stay away from her. She is dangerous!" Then he let John alone, went out of the room swinging his umbrella. Suddenly he turned: "By the way, nobody could smell TNT. I read your blog. You wrote, she is able to smell it. But believe me, nobody can do it." With a nasty broad grin Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock´s unloved elder brother, who is working for the Government and Secret Service, turned on his heels and went downstairs, out of the sight of John.
John Watson awoke, took a deep breath and stood up. He checked the alarm clock. Quarter past three on 24th December 2012. He sighed. He was not in the mood for Chrismas. He went to the bathroom. Before John it arrived, he saw a light downstairs. It seemed Sissi, his new flatmate was there. John got curios. He walked as quite as possible downstairs and peeked into the living room. Sybille also called Sissi, sat in front of her laptop on Sherlock´s desk and gestured and mimicked angry without making any noise. It seemed she got a row with her computer. Then she lay back at her chair closing her eyes, but not for long. She put her elbows on the desk, press her palms together like a prayer and looked thinking the fingertips at her chin. It reminded John to Sherlock. He often did this posture. John tried to understand what she is doing. She didn´t read his blog, he was sure. Suddenly she held up her smart phone what was connected with her laptop and tied something out - with less success. She sighed, lay back at her chair and yawned. Then she stook up, closed her laptop, turned of the desk lamp and moved toward door. John hurried up to go upstairs. She went upstairs, too, taking her equipment with her. John had not the faintest idea what´s going on. She went in Sherlock´s former bedroom, turned the light on and closed the door. John went to bed, too. He wanted to ask her some hours later.
Dr John Watson, the invalid Army doctor, who lost his friend Sherlock three month ago, was trying to forget, what happend in his past. He had to live on. But he was still in a sad mood. Even at this day. It was a grey Christmas Eve morning, but this day wasn´t as cold as the last few days. He went to Oxford Street to buy some last-minute presents for Mrs Hudson, his landlady, for Harry, his sister and for Sissi, his new flatmate. He had already bought perfume for all three ladies and hurried up to go home. He hates shopping.
As he reached Baker Street with his yellow paper bag, he saw plenty of big dark vehicles of a Squad team. Two black uniformed men armed with machine guns were in front of the entrance. What was going on? A bomb threat? A raid? John looked puzzled as he arrived to the black front door of 221B Baker Street. All doors were wide open. A black uniformed man was carrying filled crates out of the house. John could walk in. At the narrow staircase he could hear Mrs Hudson and Mary´s worried voices. Both were in the ground floor kitchen with someone from the team, questioning. Dr Watson walked upstairs. Some black uniformed men were searching for something and packing. Two of the Squad team held machine guns in their hands. In the middle of the old-fashion, with four different wall paper at the wall decoreted, weird looking living room stood Mycroft Holmes. An elegant well-dressed gentleman with his black umbrella was an anachronism in that chaotic, odd stuffed room. He was delegating as he recognized the intruder: "John! I didn´t know, that you goes to the spies. The technique what do you used - was it from your military carrier?" "What? What do you talking about?" John asked angry and confused. "Oh," Mycroft smiled dangerously: "It is your new flatmate, who is a spy, isn´t she?" He took a small book out of his expensive-looking grey-blue jacket and continued: "You wrote: "Sybille Smith also called Sissi like the Austrian Emperor!" She was it who tried it?! What do you know about her?" "She tried what?" John asked as stiff as he had met him the first time as an "arch-enemy" of Sherlock Holmes in a warehouse. "She tried a break-in in our security system." Mycroft watched carefully John´s reaction by that news. "So...?" Dr Watson looked stern. He remembered what happened on that day in the early morning. John thought, he knew now, why Sybille got a row with her laptop. But was that the correct conclusion? "So?" echoed Mycroft with a bitter smile and interrupted John´s thoughts. "Well, you know what it means, don´t you? She is a mole! How long do you know her?" "Just a couple of days." John answered truthfully but reluctant. "Where do you met her?" "She met me, actually. She wanted to eat and drink and having a hot bath.That´s all!" "Oh... You are a Good Samaritan. And where is she now?" Mycroft observed John Watson´s face carefully in order to see any hint what leads him to her. "I don´t know. She went out very early. Perhaps, she is buying some presents." An elder member of the Squad team walked to Mycroft Holmes with a mobile phone at his ear. "Sir, the break-in is done!" "What? When... and how?" Mycroft asked frowning the man. "A half hour before, Sir, nine zero five! They don´t know how but they´re researching it." Mycoft Holmes sent the man away, looked to John in a dangerouse way and said coldly: "If I were you, I would stay away from her. She is dangerous!" Then he let John alone, went out of the room swinging his umbrella. Suddenly he turned: "By the way, nobody could smell TNT. I read your blog. You wrote, she is able to smell it. But believe me, nobody can do it." With a nasty broad grin Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock´s unloved elder brother, who is working for the Government and Secret Service, turned on his heels and went downstairs, out of the sight of John.
