A Study in Sherlock (1st book in Reality series)

Chapter 6

"No. No, that's not right. Why would she do that?" Sherlock mutters not quietly enough for everyone to hear. Everyone stared at him.

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yeah, sociopath, seeing it now," Anderson said to the room. I saw as more police officers slightly nod as they continued the pretend drugs bust.

"She didn't think about her daughter, she scratched her name on the floor. She was dying, it took effort, it would've hurt- she was trying to tell us something!" Sherlock deduced.

"You said all the victims took the poison themselves. Somehow he makes them take it. Maybe he I dunno... Talks to them. Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow..." John guessed.

"Oh. But that was ages ago- why would she still be upset?" At this point everyone in the room paused what they were doing and judged Sherlock. John winced and breathed through his teeth. I pursed my lips in embarrassment. That was even worse. Sherlock looked around and saw the reactions of the flat. "Not good?" NO SHIT SHERLOCK! NOT GOOD AT ALL.

"Bit not good, yeah."

"Nope," Me and John simultaneously. Sherlock began pacing and looked back at John and me.

"Yes, but listen!" Sherlock exclaimed. "If you were dying, if you've been murdered, in your last seconds, what would you say?" Sherlock asked us.

"Please god let me live." John deadpans.

"Oh, use your imagination." Sherlock added.

"Dang it. I didn't last very long." I said seriously. John looked at me concerned. I shrugged. "I use comedy to lighten moods, sue me."

"Yes, but if you were clever, if you were very clever... Jennifer Wilson running around with all those lovers. She was clever, and she's telling us something!" Sherlock said. Now is my time to shine. I let my eyes brighten with an idea as Mrs. Hudson came through the door.

"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxis here Sherlock," She said sweetly. I love Mrs. Hudson. She is really one of the only people Sherlock cares for and is really protective of.

"I didn't order a taxi, go away!" Sherlock told the sweet old landlady. Mrs. Hudson began to look around and see all the police looking around John and Sherlock's flat.

"Oh dear, they are making such a mess. What are they looking for?" She asked befuddled.

"It's a drugs bust miss," I answered. Mrs. Hudson smiles at me. I hold out my hand to shake it. "I'm Evelynn Carlton."

"I'm Mrs. Hudson dearie. Would you like some tea while the boys do this?" She proposed. thought for a moment. Then I nodded.

"Yes please! Do you happen to have peppermint or earl gray?" I asked and she smiled and nodded. We headed down the stairs and left the scene to unravel. Then the doorbell rang again. This time a man, the cabbie, was there. Mrs. Hudson tried to shoo him away again. But he only responded by grabbing me; pulling me to him and holding his hand over my lips, holding the gun to my side. The gun was cold and I could feel the chill of the metal run down my spine. I knew the gun wasn't real but I altered the timeline by being here. So I didn't know if it truly was fake.

"Go get Mr. Holmes. Tell him the cab he needs is here." The murderer says in his nasally voice. It reminds me a lot of Meredith Grey from Grey's anatomy. Man her voice is very mousy. Mrs. Hudson looks at me and I nod with my eyes. She runs, or tries to run up the stairs. With her bad hip, she can't walk that fast. I can hear his voice ring like church bells in my ears. "Don't worry, you're gonna go on a ride." He tells me. I hate this. I feel my knees buckle and tears run down my face. A real damsel in distress I am right now.

A few seconds later Sherlock comes out of the flat and sees the murderer holding the gun to my side and a hand over my mouth. My eyes widened, scared.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes," He says to Sherlock. Sherlock's eyes darken. Darken with fear, curiosity, and another unknown factor.

"I didn't order a taxi," He told the driver. I see in his eyes he is planning something.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one." The cabbie said. Sherlock's eyes light up in recognition.

"You're the cabbie- the one who stopped outside of Northumberland Street. It was you. Not your passenger." The cabbie smiles, his grip loosening on me slightly in the little boost of his fucking ego.

"You see, no one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like we're invisible. Just the back of an head. Proper advantage for a serial killer." The cabbie boasts.

"Is this a confession?" Sherlock interrogated him. Yes it is. I thought the gun would be enough. Dumbass.

"Oh, yes. And I'll tell you what- if you go and get the coppers now, I won't run, i'll sit quiet and they can take me down. I won't hurt the girl. I promise." He told Sherlock. Sherlock for obvious reasons looked confused and curious. Why would a serial killer go down quietly, when he is caught?

"Why?"

"Because you're not going to do that." The cabbie determined. He is not wrong. Sherlock has the burning urge to always prove himself right and always try to understand why something works. It's a habit, a desire, a routine, a rule.

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. Holmes. I spoke to them, and they killed themselves. Go and get the coppers now, and I promise you this- I will never tell them what I told you." The cabbie advised.

"No one else will die though. I believe they call that a result." Sherlock mentioned. The cabbie smirked.

"And you won't ever find out how those four people died. Which result do you care about?" The cabbie remarked. I saw Sherlock's head tilt. Sherlock for the love of all things holy and lovely, HELP ME!

"If I wanted to understand... What would I do?" Sherlock asked.

"Let me take you and young miss for a ride." The cabbie commented.

"So you can kill us?" Sherlock concluded.

"I'm not going to kill you Mr. Holmes. I'm going to talk to you. And your going to kill yourself. And I'll do the same to this young girl." The cabbie clarified.

The cabbie pushed me into the cab forcefully and Sherlock entered as well. I looked at him.

"So, I assume you got to the part where Rachel is a password to a phone tracking website?" I remarked. Sherlock nodded. We sat in silence for a bit until Sherlock asked the Cabbie how he found him.

"Oh, I recognised you- soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock Holmes. I was warned about you. I've been on your website too- brilliant stuff, loved it." He vocalized.

"Who would warn you about me? Who?" Sherlock inquired. The cabbie only smiled. I know who it is. It is a certain psychopath, a psychopath noted as James Moriarty."Who would ever notice me?" Sherlock muttered. I roll my eyes. Everyone Sherlock, everyone. Especially later in Scandal of Belgravia. Originally it was titled Scandal of Bohemia but was changed because it was based around Belgravia which is a district of central London. Also you can't really do that with a kingdom in modern day.

"You're too modest, Mr. Holmes." The cabbie announced.

"I'm really not, "Sherlock said flatly. Yes. You kinda are. Later on your modesty declines.

"You've got yourself a fan!" The cabbie exclaimed.

"Tell me more." Sherlock urged. Why ask? You know he's not going to tell you.

"That's all you're going to know in this lifetime." The cabbie said with finality.

The cab ride was quiet the rest of the way. The roads were busy as usual and the people went on about their mediocre lives. All without knowing that perhaps another murder was about to take place. The night sky was beautiful. The stars were seen in the sky like diamonds scattered in space. Diamonds that happen to be large balls of flaming gas. I closed my eyes and rested my head on Sherlock's shoulder. Thankful that John is going to follow us. What a good guard dog John Hamish Watson truly is.