The New Client

3.

Carter’s face changed to a look of serious mourning. “She was just fourteen.”

Holmes sat back onto the sofa silently. “They found her after four hours. She had been missing for a day. Then,” he took a deep breath, “they found her outside the church.” He pulled out a series of photographs and placed them on the coffee table without looking at them. “Her name was…”

“Please Mr Carter. Names are unnecessary at this precise moment in time.”

Holmes looked intently into Carter’s eyes. Watson spoke up, the voice of medical reasoning, with a hint of sadness as well. Watson always had found it difficult when dealing with the deaths of children. “Suicide?” he questioned.

“No.” said Carter in an almost inaudible whisper. “She had been raped and then had thirty millilitres of silver injected into her lungs. Then she was hung.”

Holmes eyes glazed over and he stood up and paced to the window.  “And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself.”

“I’m sorry?” Carter murmured mystified.

“Matthew 27 3-5, Judas.”

“I fail to see how this has anything to do with, the death of this girl.”

“Why not have the local authorities deal with it?”

“Because sir, the school’s reputation. The headmaster has insisted on it being kept quiet so as not to alert the killer.”

“You mean the death of a girl isn’t something that prospective parents want to be hearing about.”

“Well, yes but…”

“Her parents have been informed?”

“Obviously, but they have been told that everything is being done to find the killer and they may not speak to anyone about the situation.” At this Sherlock burst into a ridiculing laugh, as was his manner, yet this was slightly more condescending than normal.

“So aside from not involving the police directly, trying not to damage the school’s prestigious reputation and keeping her parents completely in the dark, what are you doing?” Holmes added in a mock pompous voice.

“Nothing.” Carter answered.

“Nothing!” Holmes exclaimed. “Did you hear that Watson. They aren’t doing anything at all. The killer is still at large.”

“Mr Holmes, please. That is why I am here. We want you to solve the murder.”

“Oh really, you want me, me to catch a common rapist, get the local Bobbies.”

“We’ll offer you any sum of money you desire.”

“Money! Really you think that is why I do what I do?” Holmes said, raising his voice and standing up. “I won’t do it, I’m afraid you’ll have to find someone else.” He continued, walking towards the door.

“Oh.” Carter breathed, “I, don’t know what to say, I guess well, that’s it.” He stood up and stepped carefully to the exit.

“Thank you for coming Mr Carter.” Said Holmes holding out his hand.

“The pleasure was all mine Mr Holmes.” Carter said bitterly. “Here’s my card if you change your mind.”

“I don’t think I will be needing that.” Sherlock quipped. None the less Carter handed him a small bit of paper with his telephone number printed on it.”

“Wonderful.” Said Sherlock in the tone that suggested a small boy being dragged on a shopping trip.

“Goodb…” began Carter but Holmes shut the door in his face.

“Um, Sherlock. What’s going on? You said no to the case.” Watson was unsure of his colleague’s thought patterns. Which was in actual fact perfectly normal but John stood stock still clutching the photographs whilst Holmes dashed around the room. Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom and re-emerged with a suitcase which he promptly dropped on the floor.

“Of course I’m accepting the job. How could I refuse?”

“But you just did.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You just said you wouldn’t do it.”

“Yes well, I didn’t really like him. He had a watch and smelt funny.”

Holmes raced around the room, pulling oddities and various items of clothing from storage spaces that weren’t actually for storing. This included a pair of socks from a teapot and a shirt from a biscuit tin. Sherlock laughed at his supposed genius.

“Ah the secret to the refreshing scent of ginger that surrounds me.” He said waving his shirt at Watson before tossing it casually into his bag.

“We’ll need this.” He muttered as he pulled a very dusty Bible off his bookshelf. Holmes wasn’t religious and really only had the bible as a reference book. He threw that on top of the heap of clothes and items that were spilling out of his suitcase. He bent over, and giving everything an almighty shove zipped the bag shut. He straightened calmly and turned to Watson.

“Oh John poor boy, you really should pack, we’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Why where are we going?”

“My dear Watson.” He smiled, “We are going back to school.”