Sherlock Holmes and The New Detective

No Shit Sherlock

"Greg Lestrade. Very impressive. Sherlock, where'd you find this girl?" He looked at Sherlock with a very impressed smile on his face. "No, seriously. She's brilliant!"

Sherlock's smile turned into an even more excited one and he looked and stared at Emma. Emma and Sherlock looked like they were somehow talking to each other through brain waves.

"Sorry, did I miss something?" Lestrade looked utterly confused.

"The watch!" Sherlock and Emma both exclaimed. Solving crimes is always better when there are two of you.

Sherlock walked over to the woman and picked up her wrist. He turned on the watch and looked at Emma.

"What app?" She asked.

"Recording."

Everyone crowded around the woman as Sherlock pressed the 'play' button.

"Sherlock, Emma." It was a man. But it wasn't his voice. It was layered from different devices. "Friends. I'm sorry. I got carried away. I'm insane. I'm brilliant. I will never be caught. And now, I'm killing.  Because I'm smart, I know exactly where to hit. Exactly how to strike. Exactly when to make the last impact." Any last words, Mrs. Jennings?"

"Last impact", Emma muttered after he said the two words.

You could hear in the background sobbing. You could hear her gather her breath and think as she was to make her final impact.

"You can't do this! You can't do any of thi..."

"Mrs.Jennings! Final words! One more chance."

She gathered her thoughts again. She did not seem like she was stupid. She would probably use her last words to give them a clue.

"905. 786. 0000."

Bang. Dead. The recording stops.

"So a phone number?"Lestrade asked. "Is that what it is?" 

"No, too obvious", Sherlock explained. "Something more. Emma, I need your help."

"No shit Sherlock", she said, faking a laugh. She was still traumatized that someone had died. Sure, she was brilliant. She could deduce what happened. Observe when others only saw, listened when others only heard, and could solve problems when others didn't even know where to start. But never, not once, did she ever do this with someone being killed. She never solved crimes before. She lost her mother, and that was from natural causes. That tore her apart. So imagine how a family would feel when their loved one was murdered. Even if they committed suicide, that's worse than any disease. No one expects when they'll be killed, no one even expects that they will be killed.

"Ready to go?" She asked.

---------------------------------

"So. It's not a phone number. That would be too obvious."
They were back in Sherlock's flat and he was going over what they already knew.

"So some type of code?" Emma wondered.

"Probably."

"Something to do where she works?" Emma asked another question.

"Maybe, maybe not. We should check just to rule it out."

"Do we know anything about Mrs.Jennings? Oh. Oh God." Something clicked in her brain. "Mrs. Jennings. Why Mrs? She didn't even say anything to her family in that recording."

Sherlock had caught on. "She must've known she was going to die. So why that flat? Is it hers? Wait. It has to be. She wouldn't have that many of her personal things there if that was only the place where she would die." The two of them were onto something. Again, it was like their brains were linked.

"So why two homes? Where is her family?"

"We should ask Lestrade to see if there are any police reports. Get the address, names, back story."

"Yes. Is this what you do everyday?" She threw herself on John's chair, completely exhausted.

"No. Some days there is nothing, in others everything happens in a matter of hours."

"How do you do it?" She sat up in the chair.

"Brilliantly."

She laughed. "Get the address from Lestrade and we'll go."

Sherlock mentally smiled to himself. This girl was smart.

-------------------------

Sherlock and Emma had gotten the address from Lestrade and had taken a taxi down to Mrs. Jenning's (also know as Sandra) house to speak with her family.

"I'm very sorry about your loss", Emma said. She was by far more sentimental than Sherlock. Right now he was sitting beside Emma on the couch drinking a cup of tea. Not a care in the world except anything that would help to find the killer. Across from the two of them was Sandra's husband, Mark, and their son and daughter, Jack and Kaitlin.

"Thank you. She was always so cheerful I... I don't know why she would've committed... Why she would've killed herself", Mark spoke. The kids still didn't seem able to talk. Jack was only eight and was didn't really get it and Kaitlin was fourteen-- the age where you always yell with your parents. She will probably blame herself. No, not probably. She already has.

"Well, Mark, it wasn't really... " Sherlock started to speak but Emma kicked his leg so he would get the hint to be quiet without the family really noticing. Emma also has better people skills. She knows what to say and when to stop.

"Yes, it's quite sad. I just came to ask some questions. I'm Emma and this is Sherlock Holmes. I'm from Saint Bartholomew's hospital and am training and learning about emotions and hormones, going into the psychiatric ward. Way more serious than what any of you will need, I know, I just wanted to know how you all are and make sure you all do okay. So that you can grieve her by knowing why", she looked at Mark and Jack. "And without blaming yourself", she looked at Kaitlin. "You just need to tell me about her."

"Well", Mark drew in a quick breath. "She worked in an office building. Nothing special, just sat at a desk all day, but at home, she was all for family. All about doing things together, family game nights, movie nights, family outings. We had specific days for everything. She liked reading about your mysteries and crimes, Sherlock Holmes. She learned different codes and made up her own sometimes. She was really interested in that. When she wasn't here or at work, she would be at her sisters flat. Her sister has autism. She just checks on her every one or two days. It's her second home, sometimes she spends more time there than she does here!" He laughed. Recalling old memories did that to people, they brought back old emotions.

"So why there? Do you have any idea?" Sherlock asked.

"She went down there everyday at that time, so I don't really know why. Her sister actually moved into a home where she was being watched over 24/7. She was tidying everything up."

"Oh, and about those codes, do you mind if I take a look?" Emma sipped some tea and quickly put the cup back down. She wasn't really in the mood.

Mark got up and got a notepad from upstairs somewhere and handed it to Emma.

"Thank you", she said. "If you ever need to talk just call me."

"Thank you", the family said unison.

Mark showed them out and they called for a cab. When they got in, Sherlock told the driver the address and immediately confirmed something with Emma. "You didn't actually give them a number, right?"

Emma shook her head and smiled as the cab drove towards 221 B Baker Street.