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Ivy Liu takes a slow drag of her cigarette, watching Sherlock with those sharp, unblinking eyes that seem to s...
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Jeff
"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street," Sherlock snapped, casting an annoyed glance towards Anderson before shifting his attention back to the phone in his hand. "We can do much more than just read her emails. It's a smartphone—it's got GPS, which means if you lose it, you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."
"Unless he got rid of it," Lestrade said cautiously, folding his arms across his chest.
"We know he didn't," John interjected, his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out the details.
Ivy, who had been standing a little off to the side, chimed in, "John's right. The killer called back when John texted him. That means he still has the phone, and he's arrogant enough to use it."
Lestrade blinked in disbelief. "You texted the killer? What were you thinking?"
Ignoring his question, Ivy exchanged a look with Sherlock, both of them on the same wavelength. They were moving too quickly for Lestrade's cautious pace. There was no time for explanations.
Sherlock, always a man of action, glanced impatiently at the computer screen. "Come on, come on. Quickly!"
At that moment, Mrs Hudson appeared in the doorway, an anxious look on her face. "Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver—"
Sherlock got to his feet, waving dismissively. "Mrs Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?"
Ivy, curious, moved to the window to peer out. She tried to get a glimpse of the taxi driver, wondering why Mrs Hudson had found him so concerning. Sherlock, noticing her staring out, gave her a sarcastic smile. "What is it, Ivy? Trying to solve the case of the curious cab driver?"
Ivy rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Just making sure it's not another one of your clients about to drag us into something messy."
John sat down at the computer, his attention on the map as it began to zoom in, a small icon rotating as it claimed it would locate the phone in under three minutes. Sherlock, ever restless, turned to Lestrade. "We need vehicles, get a helicopter."
Mrs Hudson's worried gaze flickered as a man slowly ascended the stairs behind her. Ivy's sharp eyes caught the movement, and her instincts flared. Something wasn't right. She narrowed her gaze, trying to piece the clues together.
"Sherlock," Ivy whispered urgently, pulling at his sleeve to get his attention. "Look at the door. The man... he's coming upstairs."
Sherlock waved her off, distracted. "Ivy, you sound like you forgot your meds."
She huffed in frustration. "Sherlock, I'm serious!"
But he had already shifted his focus back to Lestrade, pacing quickly. "We're going to have to move fast. This phone battery won't last forever."
