The Tale of Two Siblings (Fabrication #1)

Chapter 9: A Close Fall

        I heard footsteps behind me and I saw John running to catch up with my brother and I. I also noticed with a small amount of surprise that John was without his cane and without his limp.

        "John, you-" I started to say, but Sherlock smacked me in the arm. "What?" I hissed. Sherlock simply shook his head.

        "What was that?" asked John catching up with us completely.

        "Uh, nothing," I said.

        "So where are we going?" asked John.

        "That's actually a good question," I said. "Where are we going?"

        Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked.

        "Uh, let's see, no," I said. Sherlock sighed.

        "We're going to Twenty-Two Northumberland Street. It's hardly a five minute walk from the flat.

        "You honestly think whoever the killer is is stupid enough to go to where you told him?" John asked.

        "Stupid? No. But brilliant enough, definitely. I just live the brilliant ones, they're always the ones most eager to be caught," Sherlock said.

        "You scare me sometimes," I said. Sherlock gave a half smile.

        "But seriously, why would he go to where you mentioned?" asked John, still confused. 

        "Applause!  Audience!  That's the fault of genius, they need an audience!" Sherlock ranted.  I chuckled and I think John caught on about the irony that was obvious to us and oblivious to Sherlock. "This, in the city is his hunting ground.  Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything.  They were in a crowded city, where people watched them go."

        "There are less dramatic ways to put it," I said. 

        He ignored me an put his hands to his temples to try and focus.  I don't see how that helped him at all but whatever.  "Think about it.  Who do you automatically trust, without actually knowing them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go?  Who hunts in the middle of the crowd?"

        "I dunno," said John.  It didn't actually look like he was trying to think, though.  I thought really hard.  I couldn't figure it out either.

        "I have no idea either," said Sherlock.  "You guys hungry?"

        We made our way down the street and turned a corner and arrived at Angelo's, a small cafe and restaurant.  Sherlock had helped the owner, Billy Angelo from getting the death sentence several years ago.  He was forever in Sherlock's debt and he had great coffee which we got discounts on, so it was pretty cool.  We walked in the door and a little chime rang.  Billy was at the door in an instant, offering us a seat by the big window that looked out over Northumberland Street.  

        "Thank you, Billy," said Sherlock, sitting down.  I sat down beside him and John slid over the other side of the booth. Sherlock took off his coat and I took off mine.  He turned sideways so he could see the street.  I couldn't see, so I climbed over him to the middle of the bench and looked out the windows.  

        "Do you really think he'll come?" I asked, looking at Sherlock.  He stared, straight ahead and the street lights made his face a weird, tan color.

        "I don't know," he said.  He pointed to a building across the street.  "That's 22 Northumberland Street.  Keep your eyes on it." I looked over and there was a tall building made of stone.  It would be easy to see who pulled up at it or walked to it.