A Dance With Death

Chapter Four

Hey so this chapter is maybe a little shorter than the others, and a litle less exciting, but I thought the ending was good.

Livia refused to go into details about what the nightmare had been. Sherlock respected this and set her up with a mug of tea and the telly while he and John cleaned up his room and talked about Eva’s disappearance.

“She left intentionally, then. She knew if she didn’t, worse things could happen for her and her family,” John surmised, hanging Sherlock’s clothes back in his closet.

“Precisely,” he answered, lying down on his bed, his palms together and his eyes closed. “Now I just need to ask Livia a few questions about her brother. Whose name is Richard apparently.”

John nodded. “Yeah, I meant to tell you that. She was saying his name over and over, but when I was going to text you, she woke up and panicked.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Not much, mostly just Richard and Eva’s names.” He thought for a second. “Oh and one other name. Moran. Familiar to you?”

Sherlock opened his eyes and frowned. “No...But I feel like I’ve heard it before...” He sat up from the bed and swung his legs over the side, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. He sat there for a few seconds, contemplating, before he stood and straightened his jacket. “I suppose I’ll go ask Livia a few questions while she still trusts me.”

John chuckled. “Wise move.”

Sherlock offered a small smile and walked out. Livia was curled up in the same chair as she had been the night before, sipping her tea and munching on biscuits again. She heard him stop behind her chair and motioned towards the telly.

“Two women were raped and murdered by three men, none of whom have been tracked down. This isn’t the first time; they’ve done this twice before. Raped their victims senseless, shot them in the heart, then wrote an X on their foreheads and above their...erm...sensitive areas.” She turned towards him, a blush staining her cheeks. “And yet you help me, a girl who’s been having nightmares. They’re the ones you should be helping, Mr. Holmes.”

He reached for the remote and switched off the telly. “They aren’t living a nightmare everyday. Their torture ends at some point, even if not in the most pleasant of ways. They don’t have to live the rest of their lives with the haunting memory of being raped and then murdered. You, on the other hand, will have these nightmarish memories for the rest of your life. So you tell me, who should I be helping?”

Her eyes met his. “Them. I don’t deserve any of your help. My case can’t get much worse.” She turned back around and played with the corner of the blanket. He sat across from her. “Tell me, Mr. Holmes, do you feel any pity for those girls? Do you feel any pity for the girls that are at risk of being killed? Anything?”

Sherlock’s gaze remained fixed. “No. If you would like my honest opinion. While it is a tragedy that these girls are dying, it is the way of the world. When some people can’t get what they want, they find extreme ways to ensure that they do. Unfortunately, this often includes murder, rape, assault, abductions...” Livia glanced at his coat pocket where Eva’s phone was. “Ah good, you’ve caught on. I’m afraid her message never got to you, nor could we recover it.” He leaned forward. “Livia, your sister was kidnapped last night.”

Livia gasped, her hands going to her mouth as silent, crystal tears spilled over her eyelids. “No...”

Sherlock took the phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Only three pieces of evidence were found at the crime scene: her phone, her house keys, and a picture of Mila. The phone and the picture were found propped up against a streetlight, while the keys were just dropped near the street. From what I can tell, she left this as a message to you. The text she meant to send to you was to warn you that they had come for her, and the position of the phone was to help you find it when she sent this message, am I correct? You two had a system; you knew you were in danger all the time.”