Sherlock Imagine-Just Friends (Book 1)

Part 4

"I still don't see the point of this." you complained as several officers scurried about 221b.

"All we need is the case, but we need a good reason to search the flat in case he is withholding more evidence." Lestrade explained from Sherlock's favorite chair.

"But a drugs bust? You know he's clean!" you retaliated, throwing your hands about you as you spoke.

"What's going on?" Sherlock demanded as he entered the room.

"It's a drugs bust." answered Lestrade jokingly.

"Really?" John said with a chuckle. "This guy? A junkie? Have you even met him?" John went on.

"John." you stopped him.

He looked at you, then up at Sherlock. "No." he said under his breath.

"What?" Sherlock asked, thinking that John might have figured it out.

"You." John answered.

"No. I am clean!" Sherlock proclaimed.

"I really hope you are." you stated. You couldn't bare to think that Sherlock might have started again.

"I am. I promise." Sherlock said, looking at you with the little smile that told you he was telling the truth.

After the day you met him, he never touched another drug again, unless it had something to do with a case. But he would still never keep any at his flat.

"We found Rachel." Lestrade informed Sherlock.

"Who is she? Where is she?" Sherlock demanded.

"She's dead." he answered. "She died fourteen years ago. Technically she was never alive."

"Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's still-born daughter." you added.

"But why would she write her daughter's name in her final moments? It was ages ago! Why would she still be upset?"

"Sherlock!" you scolded.

The room grew silent.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked.

"Bit not good, yea." John replied.

"But if you were dying, and you were in your last moments, what would you say?"

"Please God, let me live." John answered.

Sherlock gave a look of unsatisfaction and turned to you. "Your turn." he said looking at you.

You paused. You didn't know what you would say in your final moments. You figured it would probably depend on who was around you, if anyone at all.  Or the situation surrounding your death. You decided to see if you could figure her out. If this woman was really clever the way that Sherlock is, she would leave something as clever as Sherlock would. You placed yourself in Jennifer Wilson's shoes. "If I was being murdered, what would I do?" you asked yourself. "I would leave a message to help others find the murderer." you stated.

Sherlock's eyes brightened and he smiled delightfully down at you. "Exactly." he breathed.

"But I still don't see how Rachel is going to help us find the murderer." you continued.

Sherlock looked around the room to see if anyone knew the answer. "Look at you lot, you're all so vacant. I wonder what it must be like in your funny little brains. Rachel is not a name." he rambled.

"Then what is it?" John asked, obviously irritated with Sherlock's arrogance.

"John, on the case, there's a tag with her email address. Read it to me." Sherlock commanded then sat at the desk and began to type. John obeyed.

"Sherlock, your taxi's here." Mrs. Hudson said from the doorway.

"I didn't order a taxi." Sherlock replied and Mrs. Hudson left.

"Rachel's her password?" you asked. Hanging around Sherlock for the past five years, he had begun to rub off on you. You learned some of his ways of deduction, although you were nowhere near his levels of expertise.

"Yes." Sherlock replied as he continued typing vigorously on the laptop.

"So we can read her emails, so what?" Anderson said from the kitchen.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street." Sherlock said. "Her mobile phone must have her email address in it and has a GPS locator. So, if we have her email address-"

"Then we have our murderer." John finished.

Sherlock stood from his seat and began to talk to Lestrade about when they would catch the killer.

"Sherlock, this taxi driver is really addim-" Mrs. Hudson said again.

"Mrs. Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soothers?" Sherlock asked, starting to get annoyed.

"Sherlock," John said from his seat where the GPS was trying to locate the missing phone.

"What? Where is it?" Sherlock asked urgently.

"It's here in 221 Baker Street." he replied.

Sherlock stood straight, befuddled about how it could be here in the flat. "That's not possible. How could it-?" he muttered as he turned around observing the flat and everyone in it. Then he stopped. That cabbie that kept bothering Mrs. Hudson for Sherlock was standing in the shadows behind her.

"So how could the phone be here, Sherlock?" you asked.

"What?" he asked, obviously not paying attention to you and staring into space.

"The phone, how could it be here?" you asked again.

"Don't know." he replied quickly.

"Well, I'm gonna check again." John suggested.

"Okay." Sherlock said.

"Are you alright Sherlock?" you asked as he started smoothly walking toward the door.

"I'm fine, just popping out for a bit." he replied. And with that, he disappeared down the stairs.

"What does the MePhone say John?" you asked.

"It's still here." he replied.

"You're sure it's not here?" Lestrade asked.

"Yea, the murderer called us." John answered. He looked down out the window to where Sherlock was supposed to be. "He just got in the cab." he said.

Then it clicked in your head. The cab driver. It was all the cabbie. He was the one that could pick people up off of the street and nobody would have had a second thought about it. And of course Sherlock would go with him, especially if he wanted to know how the cabbie did it. However he did it, you knew Sherlock was in danger. You had to say something.

"The cabbie." you breathed.

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"It was the cabbie! The cabbie is the murderer. That's how the phone was here!"

"And Sherlock just went with him?" Greg said.

"Yes! We have to find them!" you screamed