Trust in Sherlock: Book 2

Chapter 27-Maggie's POV

John and I ran the rest of the way to my flat, the envelope and letter tucked into John's trouser pocket. We maintained a quick pace and soon arrived.

I didn't bother knocking, as the door was cracked open. A hair pin lay discarded on the ground-Kathy's hairpin. It had to be her. She must have used it to unlock the door without being noticed.

I stormed into the front hallway, the letter's message running through my head.

Your landlady misses you. You should hear her crying out your name, MagPie. It's pathetic really.

"Mrs. Lancer!" I shouted as loud as I could, ignoring the exhaustion that took over my legs.

I ran down the hallway, past the stairs that led to the second floor. "I'll search upstairs." John said and I heard his quick footsteps on the wooden stairs.

I pushed open the door to Mrs.Lancer's flat. The bright colours and soft patterns sent a wave of nausea through me. If something happened to her...

"She's not here!" I shouted, my voice going higher in pitch.

I heard John's footsteps hurry back down the stairs and come up behind me. "She's not upstairs either." He breathed out.

I turned to look at John, seeing his eyes were just as wide and full of fear as I assumed mine were. "Maybe she popped out for a bit, yeah? It can get stuffy indoors and it's a wonderful night." John said, trying to comfort me.

"Get Sherlock." I said, exiting my landlady's flat and heading for the stairs.

"Wait, where are you going?" John asked, following me to the base of the stairs.

I turned and looked at him. "I can't investigate properly in this dress. We'll need Sherlock's help. Get him here. A good murder might sober him up a bit."

John nodded and exited through the front door, disappearing down the nearly deserted streets of London.

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"Are you wearing makeup?"

Sherlock squinted at my face, leaning close enough that I could smell the wine on his breath. Apparently, my father and him had gone through another bottle and a half while John and I had been gone.

"No, Sherlock. I haven't been for the past three times you've asked." I said, taking a step away from the drunk man.

John rubbed his face, sighing. "This isn't working." He muttered, resuming his position in front of Mrs.Lancer's ancient coffee maker. "I'm about 90% sure I could grind coffee beans with a bendy straw faster than this coffee machine ever could."

"Just let it be for now and come help me look for evidence." I said, watching Sherlock as he stumbled around.

The detective picked up a picture frame, squinting at the photo inside. "Hey. Hey, Mags! This girl looks like you!" He exclaimed, holding the picture close enough to his face that his nose brushed against the glass.

I took the frame out of his grasp and set it on the table sitting next to the floral couch. "Focus, Sherlock. Look for clues. Where did my landlady go?"

I turned around, hearing Sherlock scoff. "What's with herrrr?" He drew out the 'r' sound.

I ignored him and began searching the living room. There were no obvious notes as I expected from someone like Kathy. She liked to be recognised for her acts, thus the letters practically shoved into my hand by the psychopath.

"Hey, Maggie..." John's voice caught my attention. He stood in the kitchen looking down at the table.

I approached him, looking over his shoulder at what he was looking at.

"Look at the mail." He said.

I looked at the small pile of bills and letters from relatives and companies. I picked up a bill-one for electricity. It was dated it arrived a week ago. "Why hasn't Mrs. Lancer been opening her mail?" I muttered, looking through at the dates of the rest of the mail. The oldest one was dated 8 days ago.

"Procrastination?" John suggested.

"Or she hasn't been getting it." I said, looking at John. I blinked down at the pile of mail. "Looks like Mrs. Lancer went on a trip and hasn't been home in a few days."

"Camping?" John suggested weakly.

I shook my head, looking over at the front door. "The mail goes into the mail slot in the main entrance."

"Yeah, so?" John shrugged.

I looked away from the door, resting my gaze back on John. "So, how is it all on her kitchen table when she hasn't been home recently?"

John paused, thinking. "So, Kathy decided to help out and give Mrs. Lancer her mail like a friendly neighbour? No offence, but Kathy Larose isn't that kind hearted."

I sat in one of the chairs around the small kitchen table. I placed the palms of my hands against my forehead. Why would Kathy threaten Mrs. Lancer? The answer was easy. Because the landlady was important to me. She mattered.

"Hey! Um....John! Yeah, John! Come look at this!" Sherlock called from the living room.

John sighed and left me at the table. "What is it, Sherlock?" John asked, sounding tired.

I turned in my seat to watch the two.

Sherlock turned around from where he stood by the coffee table. On his face were a pair of glasses. His eyes widened when John stood in front of him. "Woahhh. Your head is so big!" Sherlock said, leaning closer to John's face. "Don't worry! It's a pretty head." Sherlock added, patting John's shoulder as if consoling him.

John looked over his shoulder at me. "I'm almost excited for the hangover he's going to have tomorrow." He said as Sherlock took off the eyeglasses and blinked rapidly.

"Oi, Mags, can I ask you something?" Sherlock asked, suddenly seeming serious (ha, alliteration is fun)

I frowned, but nodded. I prepared myself for a ridiculous question. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"Who's that?" He asked, pointing to something down the hallway behind me where the bathroom and two bedrooms were located.

"Surprise!" A voice sang from the shadows of the hallway.