Can't Stay Away (BBC Sherlock) -2-

15. "Solve It."

Someone's going to die.

We couldn't even enjoy a wedding without someone's life being threatened?

I threw a wide-eyed look at my dad. If he didn't know that I'd heard him, he certainly knew now. My focus went back to Sherlock. He looked like he was about ready to combust. He suddenly broke into a ferocious roar, slapping himself hard across his right cheek.

"No!" he outburst. We all watched in astonishment as he slapped his left cheek. "No!" I was very tempted to get out of my seat and go to him. "Not you! Not you!" He pointed at unrecognizable male guests. "You." He was facing our table, most likely looking—and pointing—at my dad. He walked towards the table. "It's always you. John Watson, you keep me right." From the corner of my eye, I saw Dad get to his feet. I watched them as Sherlock was at the table.

"What do I do?" Dad questioned.

"Well, you've already done it. Don't solve the murder. Save the life." Sherlock spun around to face the guests, an unusual grin on his face. "Sorry. Off-piste a bit. Back now. Phew!" He clapped his hands together. "Let's play a game. Let's play Murder." I saw Dad sit down again. Sherlock stalked forward.

"Sherlock," I heard Mrs. Hudson say in a disapproving tone.

"Imagine someone's going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?"

"I think you're a popular choice at the moment, dear."

Sherlock gestured behind him towards his landlady. "If someone could move Mrs. Hudson's glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?" He was now looking at all the guests. "Most people you can kill any old place. As a mental exercise, I've often planned the murder of my friends and colleagues."

I swallowed, wondering if he'd ever planned my murder.

Sherlock rubbed his hands together. "Now John I'd poison. Sloppy eater—dead easy. I've given him chemicals and compounds—that way, he's never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn't have a clue. Lestrade is so easy to kill; it's a miracle no one's succumbed to the temptation." He slunk to the back of the room again. "I've got a pair of keys to my brother's house—I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him...if, if the whim arose."

"He's pissed, isn't he?" Tom whispered. My eyes snapped to Molly, who just stabbed her fiancé with a plastic fork. Tom grabbed his hand. "Ow!"

"So, once again, who could you only kill here?" Sherlock faced the guests once again. "Clearly it's a rare opportunity, so it's someone who doesn't get out much. Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity. And since killing someone in public is difficult...killing them in private isn't an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then. Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security. Possibly someone under threat." I looked where Sherlock had his eyes.

Major Sholto could feel Sherlock's gaze on him. They momentarily locked eyes. I couldn't see what Sherlock was up to as he went to another table.

"Ooh! A recluse, small household staff. High turnover for additional security." Sherlock passed by the Major. "Probably all signed confidentiality agreements. There is another question that remains, however—a big one, a huge one: how would you do it? How would you kill someone in public? There has to be a way. This has been planned."

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!" piped Archie, the ring bearer. He was bouncing from his chair.

"Oh, hello again, Archie." Sherlock bent forward to be more eye level with Archie. "What's your theory? Get this right and there's a headless nun in it for you."