Cuts

Chapter 8

I follow Sherlock out of the house. Sherlock pauses for a minute and shrugs himself into his coat. “Taxi for Sherlock ‘olmes.” The cabbie says and is leaning on the cab.

Sherlock steps forward and tries to shut the door. He looks back and frowns. I smiles and closes the door. He looks forward. “I didn’t order a taxi.” Sherlock says to the cabbie.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t need one.” The cabbie says and shrugs.

“You’re the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street.” Sherlock figures out. When did they go to Northumberland Street? I frowned. “It was you, not your passenger.”

“See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It’s like you’re invisible. Just the back of an ‘ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer.” The cabbie explains.

Sherlock takes a few more steps forward and looks up towards the windows of the flat. I step forward. He wasn’t going to get rid of me. “Is this a confession?” Sherlock asks.

“Oh, yeah. An’ I’ll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won’t run. I’ll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise.” The cabbie say. I look at him confused.

“Why?” Sherlock asks. I hear the curiousness in his voice.

“’Cause you’re not going to do that.” The cabbie says.

“Am I not?” Sherlock asks.

“I didn’t kill those four people, Mr. ’olmes. I spoke to ’em ... and they killed themselves. An’ if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing.” The cabbie leans forward. “I will never tell you what I said.”

Sherlock stares at him. After a moment, the cabbie straightens up and starts to walk around the front of the cab. “No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result.” Sherlock says.

The cabbie stops and turns back towards us. “An’ you won’t ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?” He turns again and continues around to the driver’s door. He gets him and settles into his seat.

Sherlock looks at me and frowns. He says and bites his lip and walks closer to the cab. I follow. Sherlock looks back up to the flat window and then he bends and looks into the open side window of the cab. “If I wanted to understand, what would I do?”

The cabbie looks at him. “Let me take you for a ride.”

“So you can kill me too?” Sherlock asks.

“I don’t wanna kill you, Mr. ‘olmes. I’m gonna talk to yer... and then you’re going to kill yourself.” The cabbie says and turns back to the front.

Shelock stands up staright and looks lost in thought. I knew he was considering the situation. Sherlock turns to me. “Go back inside. If I am not back by tomorrow, come look for me.”

“Never going to happen.” I say and cross my arms.

He sighs. “I had to try.” He gets into the car and keeps the door open. I get in and slam the door.

“Who’s she?” the cabbie asks Sherlock.

“She can talk for herself.” I say and roll my eyes. “The name is Calliah Adler.” I say and sit up straight. I had to try and make him frightened for his life.

He looks back at me. I could see a little fear in his eyes and then looks straight forward. Sherlock looks at me confused. I look over at him and smile. ‘Adler?’ He mouths. I shake my head. I could explain to him later. “How did you find me?” Sherlock asks the cabbie. I move up in my seat and look at his car. I see that his name is Jeff and some pictures of his kids. The mother is out of the picture. I wonder what happened there.