A battle of whits || Modern day Sherlock Holmes RPG

[Starthorn]

John poked his head around the doorway to see Sherlock coming down the stairs, and immediatly registered that something was wrong. “What is it Sherlock?“ he questioned, concerned.

Madeline walked over to the window, wiping the back of her sleeve over her face. What was wrong with her today? She was never normaly like ths. Stupid! This was stupid!

[Study in Scarlet]

Sherlock jumped at the sound of John's voice. " Nothing! I am fine ...", he said. He ran of into his room, shutting the door behind him. Running toward his laptop, he began searching for a death of a Madeline he once knew.

[Starthorn]

John spun round, following Sherlock as he raced towards his room, slamming the door in his face. There was clearly something up. Sherlock never behaved like this. He hit his fists against the door, yelling.
"Sherlock! Open up!"

[Study in Scarlet]

Sherlock whipped his head toward the door," Not now Watson I am very busy!"

[Starthorn]

John stopped, surprised. Watson? "Hell? What did you call me Watson for?" he replied, but barely audibly. This was very worrying. Shaking his head, he turned away from the door, and went and sat down again, his brow furrowed. Sherlock would tell him in his own time.
((Watson? ))

[Study in Scarlet]

Sherlock huffed, walking to the door and opening it. Popping his head out he looked at John. " I am fine, really ... I just stumble across a case .. come in .."

[Starthorn]

John stood up again, and walked over to the room. He shut the door, and leant against the wall of Sherlock's room.
"Alright then Sherlock, I may not be a genius, but you do not react like this when you get an interesting new case. What is wrong?"

[Study in Scarlet]

Sherlock pushed John softly into a chair. " Sit down John ...", he said pulling a small shoe box from underneath his bed. " Take a look at that will you ...", he said handing John the box containing news papers, photo's, and noted in Sherlock's handwriting about a death of a young girl. " Now look at the picture on top there ...who does that look like? ", he asked. He was starting to sound like a madman, he looked at John briefly before closing his eyes and slouching in his chair.

[Starthorn]

John squinted at the grainy old photograph. The edges were battered and rough, as if it had been retrieved and looked at many times. It was a photograph or a young girl, maybe about 12, or 13, but it was difficult to tell.
"I'm sorry..." he muttered, bewildered. "I've never seen her before." And yet there was a tiny niggling sensation in the back of his mind that told him he had, he couldn't quite place her.

[Study in Scarlet]

Sherlock huffed," It's her! The lady in the flat across the hall! Madeline ( I forgot her last name)! Look John I am going to tell you something I've never told anyone in my life. I knew her, as a child we we're friends. It's obvious she doesn't remember me, but I thought she was dead! "