John, Sherlock, and I are standing a short distance away from Dimmock, in Scotland Yard, who has his back to us and is rummaging through paperwork on a desk as if trying to ignore us.
“How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac’s out there?” I asked. Dimmock turns and walks in between us, heading for another desk. John turns round and follows him. “We are still here you know.”
“A young girl was gunned down tonight. That’s three victims in three days. You’re supposed to be finding him.” I took a deep breath, and steadied my heartbeat again, knowing that me going berserk won’t help us in any way.
“Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers – a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose.”
“Can you prove that?” Dimmock asks, just making me want to punch him. But Sherlock just straightens up, as if challenging him.
The three of us, and DI Dimmock, were all at St. Bartholomew’s hospital, where all the corpses were. The mortician, who I learned is Molly Hooper, was looking at the choices in the self-service display.
“What are you thinking: pork or the pasta?” Sherlock says walking up to her.
“Oh, it’s you!” she answered, with an underlying tone of happiness.
“This place is never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it?” He smiles at her, obviously taking advantage of the fact that she is in love with him, then nods to the display.
“I’d stick with the pasta. Don’t wanna be doing roast pork – not if you’re slicing up cadavers.” Again he smiles at her, while she grins nervously. Oh, moments like this just want to make you punch him for using her.
“What are you having?”
“Don’t eat when I’m working. Digesting slows me down,” he said, while I scoffed. He looks back at me, but I just give him a look that says ‘you’re an idiot,’ and look away.
“So you’re working here tonight?” molly asks. She seems so sweet, but even I know that falling for Sherlock Holmes is a bad idea. What are the chances of him loving you back? 0-none, that what.
“Need to examine some bodies.”
“Some?”
“Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis,” I butt in. “I am Quinn Wilder, by the way.”
“Kvistad,” Sherlock mumbles, earning a glare from me.
Molly looks down at her list, and then answers. “They’re on my list.”
Sherlock looks at her with his ice-blue eyes, obviously trying to cheat her again. “Could you wheel them out again for me?”
“Well ... the paperwork’s already gone through.”
Sherlock lifts his eyes a little as if noticing something, and points at her hair. “You’ve ... changed your hair.”
“What?” she asks nervously.
“The-the style: it’s usually parted in the middle.”
“Yes, well...”
“Mmm, it’s good; it, um, suits you better this way.”
Once again he wheels out the smile. She returns it, looking both flattered and flustered, then turns away to the display. Instantly Sherlock’s smile drops and he looks impatiently at his watch.
YOU ARE READING
Secrets (Sherlock)
FanficQuinn isn't normal. No, not even close. This former CIA agent turned on everyone when the last person she loved died. But, even now, years after she got out of the crime and sin, would her past catch up to her? Can she destroy her secrets before the...
