You See But Do Not Observe

CONTACT

CHAPTER THIRTEEN : CONTACT

(Sherlock's POV)

The next six days passed without contact from Serena. John and Sherlock worked around the clock trying to find some clue to the murderer. But with little evidence, no new information, and the serial killer lying dormant, even the brilliant Sherlock was stumped.

Sherlock found himself looking around corners, expecting her to pop up like she always seemed to. Whenever his thoughts drifted to her, which they did quite often, he felt something odd. An ache in the bottom of his stomach. It was uncomfortable.

He couldn't remember getting dressed once those six days. John began complaining, then stopped shopping for groceries in revenge, then disappeared for hours on end. He came back smelling of perfume.

Sherlock wasn't bored, that wasn't it. The case was engaging, the first to stump him since the dead man in the trunk of the car incident. But that wasn't his fault. This couldn't be either.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Serena was connected, no matter how hard she denied it. But how? It wasn't anyone at her office. She had wiped her identity, and though there were ways of tracking people down, he had no doubt Serena had covered her tracks well.

He needed to talk to her and Lestrade. Now, who to see first?

Lestrade was an obvious choice. He began to stride out of the apartment.

"Where the hell are you going?" John sounded sour.

"Lestrade's. Serena's."

"Dressed like that?"

"What's wrong with how I'm dressed?"

"You aren't wearing anything, Sherlock!"

"So?"

John sighed. "You're going over to Serena's. Don't you want to...look nice?"

"Why would Serena care?"

John's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. "She wouldn't, would she?" He asked like he was just realizing something deadly important.

"No, she wouldn't." Sherlock's voice was questioning.

John shook his head. "Why did I even bother flirting with her?" He asked the ceiling.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh nothing. But you are getting dressed if you're going to Scotland Yard."

Sherlock groaned. "If I must."

John nodded and Sherlock stalked to his bedroom.

"I need to see Lestrade." Sherlock said to the officer at the door.

"He's busy."

"We both know he isn't."

The officer craned his neck dismissively to the office where Lestrade sat, eating a donut.

Sherlock stalked past the officer and walked in.

"Lestrade."

"Well if it isn't the consulting detective himself." Lestrade swallowed.

"I need all information on Serena Gambles."

Lestrade's face paled. "Serena? Why?"

"You wiped her identity. You must know something about her past."

"Nope."

"LESTRADE!"

"NO Sherlock! She asked me as a friend to keep it between us."