Contact High → Sherlock Holmes (BBC) [on hold]

{ forty-two }

Sherlock and Molly stood in front of a closed door. They rang the bell, which played a recording loudly. "Mind the gap!" rang through the flat. Sherlock turned and gave Molly an amused smile. The door opened and Sherlock gave the dumpy man a kind of pitying grin. Sherlock didn't say a word, he just held up the badly chewed hat with a grimace.

"Oh," the man said, relief in his voice, "Thanks for hanging on to it."

"No problem," Sherlock muttered. The man gestured for them to come inside and they did, heading into the living room. Sherlock glanced around curiously as they walked through the flat, "So, what is this all about, Mr. Shilcott?"

As he looked around, Sherlock noticed quite a lot of merchandise with trains. He raised an eyebrow at the extremely detailed model train set in the living room. "My girlfriend is a big fan of yours," Mr. Shilcott said.

"Girlfriend?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

Molly elbowed him in the ribs in a move that reminded him a lot of Carmen. "Sorry," he coughed. The man barely glanced up as he unlocked his laptop, "I like trains."

Sherlock gave a sideways glance, "Uh... clearly."

"I work on the Tube, on the District Line," Mr. Shilcott explained, "and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after it's been cleared. I was just wizzing through and I found something a bit bizarre."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow comically and made a face behind his back. Molly snorted a giggle. The man typed something in his computer and the two of them shuffled forward to look over his shoulder. "Now, this was a week ago," the man said, "the last train on the Friday night, Westminster Station. This man gets into the last car."

"Car?" Molly asked.

Sherlock shot her a warning look but it was too late. The man was on his tirade, "They're cars, not carriages. It's a legacy of the early American involvement in the Tube system." Molly made a sour face, turning away from him. Sherlock shrugged, whispering, "He said he liked trains."

Molly gave a tiny smile and Sherlock pursed his lips at her. She was fine, sure. A good companion. Smart, pretty, kind, and thoughtful. But there was something wrong with her. Something she couldn't change. One thing that meant the entire world to Sherlock Holmes.

She wasn't Carmen Hughs.

He shook his head at the thoughts and turned back to the man and his computer. "The next stop is St. James' Park station," Mr. Shilcott continued, unaware of the thoughts raging in the man behind him, "And..." Sherlock's gaze sharpened as he watched the security footage. The man looked up at the detective, "I thought you'd like it."

"He gets into the last car at Westminster, the only passenger, and the car is empty at St. James' Station," the man recapped. He looked up triumphantly, "Explain that, Mr. Holmes."

Molly chuckled, "Couldn't he have just... jumped off?"

Sherlock shook his head but the man in front of him contradicted Molly before he could. "No, there's a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in transit," the man explained, "But there's something else. The driver of that train hasn't been to work since. According to his flatmate, he's on holiday. Came into some money, apparently."

Sherlock tilted his head to the side, "Bought off?"

Molly hummed in confusion, missing the line of thought. Sherlock pursed his lips again and shook his head. "So, if the driver of the train was in on it, then the passenger did get off."

The man sighed, "There's nowhere he could've gone! It's a straight run on the District Line between the two stations. There's no side tunnels, maientence tunnels, nothing." His voice dropped dramatically as he turned to Molly, "The train never stops, but a passenger vanishes. Put that in your blog, Ms. Hughs."