“You alright?” I nodded at my uncle. I had seen worse than this and I didn’t exactly feel anything looking down at my mother’s body, I just was confounded as to why someone would want to kill her.
“The security guard that was outside in the corridor was found drugged in the storage.” He said slowly, I could see the pain on his face though it seemed he was trying to hide it.
“Do you want to just go home Uncle. Go work on the case with that woman who committed ‘suicide’.” I made little quotation marks in the air with my fingers and looking a little grateful he turned and was escorted out of the building.
“Why would someone kill you?” I asked the body of the woman who had given birth to me. It was intriguing, if the killer was indeed that of the Waterloo murder then this person knew something about me, which was the only excuse someone would have to kill her. Unless this person didn’t need an excuse and they were doing this as a warning. But the Waterloo killer was smarter than that. He (statistically it was a male) wouldn't be threatening me with this death unless I had gotten close to something. It was an act of desperation, or not. Logically there wasn’t a significant chance that the murderer of my mother was anyone other than the Waterloo murderer, and whoever it was was very good with the use of drugs because as I knelt beside the greyed head of the corpse, I could smell a sharp tang in the air, most likely ingested- making asphyxiation the cause of death. Lowering my face the smell grew stronger- I was correct. Whatever the purpose of this killing was, the killer had meant for there to be something left behind. That meant that the killer was very good with drugs, he had used an amount that would kill her, and a specific strain of morphine that would produce a smell that only someone looking for something without their eyes would use. However that aside, if this person knew who I was then they would also know what I was, and they should also- logically speaking- know that my mother meant nothing to me other than the fact she brought me into this world, meaning it wasn’t an act of desperation but rather a gauge. A gauge to see just how much people meant to me, and proof that this person was likely insecure of their own relationships, perhaps testing me to prove to themselves that they would remain unmoved in my situation. This person was smart… meaning that the carpet wasn’t just a diversion, the bomb was, there must have been something else going on while it went off.
“Idiot.” I muttered to myself as I stood and left the body on the floor, taking my coat which I had happily retrieved from a police man, and stepping out into the grim earliest daylight that just begged to be noticed. I was tempted to call a cab but under the circumstances of the past two days I found it a ridiculous idea, and so I walked under the controversially darkening sky as the morning grew older and visited every carpeting company in the surrounding area, after a day of searching and finding nothing however, I became hungry and made my way to Tesco where I almost bought a small salad. As I walked through the checkout however I received a text, “Too healthy, meet John at 21 Northumberland St. SH” I smiled at the fact that the message had again come from John’s phone. I walked towards Northumberland Street thinking about the things that set this murderer apart from a ‘normal’ person. Whoever it was had some sort of knowledge of Cheryl Berkley and I hadn’t yet completely ruled out the fact that the murderer could be this mystery person that Rachel the clerk had noticed her going out with. “Thinking hard are we?”
I turned and Mycroft was standing behind me.
“I’d be careful Mycroft, you shouldn’t sneak up on me, or I might accidentally punch you like I did Sherlock.” I said plainly with a complete lack of emotion.
“A threat Evan, from you?” he asked setting my teeth on edge.
“You’d think that since my mother is dead you wouldn't be bothering me anymore, so why are you here?” I asked again without emotion. He paused.
“Because I want to remind you that I still want information on my brother.” He challenged my self-control and he knew he annoyed me.
“Alright then I shall text you with everything tomorrow, until then.” I bowed mockingly and strode off into the crowd of people lining the pavement. He was still watching me, which was just how Mycroft was.
I reached my destination only thirty minutes later and upon finding the address noticed it was a simple looking restaurant and inside sat a nervous looking John Watson, cane and all. I walked through the door and a bell jingled- wonderful. John looked at me and I looked back before sitting in the seat opposite him. “Sherlock told you to be here I take it.” I needn’t have asked, it would have been another pointless question. He murmured something that I didn’t quite hear and pushed the Mp3 over the table. “I’ve listened to the whole bloody thing and there are so many possible messages that my brain would explode if I were to try and remember them all.” He explained. At that moment my second and wiry flatmate walked through the jingling doorway and looked up as it did so in disgust.
“Having fun you two?” He asked and I lifted an eyebrow at him.
“A wonderful time indeed.” I replied slight sarcasm dribbling from my voice. “Busy?” I added as an after-thought. He stank of what could only be marijuana.
“Unfortunately.” He answered distastefully.
We sat in silence as Sherlock and myself judged each other, it seemed to me that this constantly changing man was incapable of boring me, something very rare indeed.
“So what did your mother tell us about our murderer?” He’d come to the same conclusion as I had about them being linked.
“Our murderer has a certain skill with drugs and knows who I am and what I am. In short her death was a test to see how little I care about people.” I answered.
“Any signs of well adapted senses?” he asked and I thought about the distinct smell that had exuded faintly around the corpse.
“Smell perhaps and with all this music… you think he’s blind?”
“Almost positive.”
“If he’s blind then how did he hang that girl off the banister?” John asked and both Sherlock and I grinned. “He had an accomplice.”
I got up and was about to leave back to the flat when my stomach growled loudly. I laughed, as did Sherlock and John. “Perhaps we should eat first.” He suggested and nodding I sat back down.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock Holmes- Meet me on Waterloo (A Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction)
Fanfiction.... in a world where light is so often ignored it often means everything, after all what would life be without light. We would after all be blind.
