A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 8: Five Pips

Notes: Transcript provided by Ariane Devere/ Callie Sullivan

***

Alice followed Sherlock and John into New Scotland Yard; she could feel the gazes on her. Anyone who had worked on a case with Sherlock was stunned when they first had met John and to see Sherlock with another person was flabbergasting. Detective Inspector Lestrade greeted the three of them outside his office. "Sherlock, John," he nodded to the two men before turning his attention to the woman joining them. "I don't believe we have met," Lestrade held out his hand.

"Alice Whitmer, a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Alice shook it, smiling.

"American? How on Earth did you end up meeting Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, amazed.

"I currently reside in the same building as him and John," Alice explained.

"Graham, why did you call us here?" Sherlock asked, bored with the current conversation.

"It's Greg," Alice, John, and Lestrade corrected at once. John and Lestrade both turned to her, confused how she knew Lestrade's first name. Alice gestured her head towards the nameplate next to her with Lestrade's full name.

"You like the funny cases, don't you?" Lestrade asked as the three of them followed him into his office.

"Obviously," Sherlock responded, slightly annoyed.

"Then you'll love this. That explosion-"

"Gas leak, yes?" Sherlock concluded.

"No," Lestrade corrected, causing Sherlock to look surprised. "Made to look like one. Nothing left of the place, except a strong box- a very strong box," Lestrade placed a sealed envelope on his desk, "and this," pointing to the envelope, "was inside it,"

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it? We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped."

"How reassuring," Alice commented sarcastically.

Sherlock picked up the envelope and walked across the room to another table and held it up against a desk lamp.

"Nice stationery, Bohemian. From the Czech Republic. She used a fountain pen: Parker Duofold, iridium nib." Sherlock deduced. He began to open the package very carefully. His mouth opened in surprise as he took out a pink iPhone.

"But that... that's the phone," John stammered, confused but amazed.

"What, from 'A Study in Pink'?" Lestrade asked, referring to John's blog post.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone, but it's supposed to look like- 'A Study in Pink'? You read his blog?" Sherlock asked Lestrade, clearly annoyed.

"Of course I read his blog, we all do," Lestrade responded, "Do you really not know that the Earth goes around the sun?" Lestrade asked. Alice hit her forehead with her hand, not wanting to relive the conversation from last night. Another snicker was heard as a woman another woman entered the room to put some files on Lestrade's desk.

"It can't be the same phone," Alice deduced, trying to change the subject. "This one's brand new,"

"Who's this?" The woman asked, turning towards Alice. "The freak's girlfriend?" She asked, half as a joke, half as a serious question.

"Alice, meet Sargent Sally Donovan," Sherlock introduced.

"Did he follow you home or were you kidnapped?"

"Look at the connection sockets, clean as a whistle. Besides, this is a new model; just came out about two months ago." Alice continued to deduce.

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone," Sherlock added. "Which means, your blog has a far wider readership," He turned on the phone and immediately received a notification.

"Oh god, there's two of them," Lestrade whispered to John, who simply nodded in agreement.

"You have one new message," the automated voice alert said. The message began to play, but there was no voice, just the sound of the Greenwich Time Signal. Five pips were played: four short, and one long.

"Is that it?" John asked, confused by the simple message.

"No," Sherlock replied as a phone received a photograph.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade asked, looking at the photo on the phone screen. "An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips?"

"It's a warning," Alice observed. The men in the room turned to her, intrigued.

"A warning?" Lestrade asked, interested in what the American Sherlock had to say.

"Did you all not notice? Normally, the Greenwich pips are five short tones followed by one longer tone. This message consisted of four short tones and one long tone, so five pips in all. In the past, secret societies sent dried melon seeds- most often orange pips- as a warning that death was to be avenged. Five pips was the most common message,"

"Alice, come look at this," Sherlock called, motioning to the phone in his hand.

"Oh shit!" Alice exclaimed as both she and Sherlock started to make their way to the door.

"H-Hang on, "John stuttered, following them, "What is it?"

"The photo was taken in my spare room in 221c," Alice responded. John and Lestrade looked at each other and followed the two out of Scotland Yard.

**** ****

Mrs.Hudson opened the front door to the flat after explaining that only she and Alice had the keys to the flat. "You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock when you first came to see about your flat. I couldn't get anyone interested. It's because of the damp, I expect. That's the curse of the basements," Alice thanked Mrs.Hudson before she followed the men into her spare room.

The room was empty except for the pair of tennis shoes that sat in the center. Sherlock walked over to the shoes slowly and knelt down next to them.

"How did he get in?" Lestrade asked, referring to the bomber.

"The window, I don't believe it locks," Alice answered, pointing to the small window near the top of the wall. " also notice: the window opens out- so easy access, and there are scuff marks on the sill-they weren't there when I moved in- sloppy work. I'm guessing that the supposed bomber climbed over the wall by Mrs.Hudson's trash bins behind the building, and entered my flat through the window, unnoticed. It's a possible option based on what we know."

"Brilliant," John commented, earning a slight smile from Alice.

"Shut up!" Sherlock yelled to the group. Just as he was closely examining the tennis shoes, a phone rang; causing everyone to jump in fright. Sherlock removed the pink phone from his coat pocket and stood up to answer it. "Hello?" He asked.

"H...Hello, sexy," a woman's voice on the other line spoke, crying with each word.

"Who is this?"

"I've sent...you...a...little...puzzle, just to say hi,"

"Who is talking? Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying, I'm...typing and this s...stupid bitch... is reading it out," the woman sobbed.

"The curtain rises," Sherlock mumbled to himself.

"What?" John asked, hearing him.

"Nothing,"

"No, what did you mean?"

"I've been expecting this for some time," Sherlock replied.

"Twelve-hours...to solve my puzzle...Sherlock. Or I am going...to be...so naughty," The woman said before the line went dead.

"Detective Inspector," Alice said, pulling Lestrade to he side. "I highly doubt it is possible to trace the call, the bomber is too clever for such a rookie mistake, but-"

"Don't worry, here's my mobile number, Call if you need anything," Lestrade replied, handing her his business card before leaving.

"Sherlock?" John asked as sherlock held up the sneakers to the light.

"We need to go to Bart's," Sherlock said aloud, heading out with the tennis shoes in tow.