Thank you Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan on livejournal for the transcripts. They help so much.
Here is the next part of A Study in Pink
I own nothing, except Calliah
"Taxi!" Sherlock yells. A taxt pulls up alongside and Sherlock gets in. I stand in the door way.
"I'm not going." I say and start backing up. I bump into John. "S-Sorry."
"Calliah. Get into this taxi right now." Sherlock says.
"I would just do it. Saves time." John says softly.
I roll my eyes and get in. John follows in and Sherlock gives the driver the address. Sherlock gets out his phone and plays with it. I cross my arms and look forward. "I hate you." I tell him. He nods and keeps playing with his phone. John keeps looking at us, but mostly Sherlock. After a while Sherlock puts down his phone. "Okay, you've got questions."
"Yeah, where are we going?" John asks.
"Crime scene." I say. John and Sherlock look at me questionably. "What? It is obvious." I don't look at them.
"Okay… Who are you? What do you do?" John asks.
"What do you think?" Sherlock asks and smiles.
"I'd say private detective…" John says slowly and hesitantly.
"But?" Sherlock says to continue him on.
"…but the police don't go to private detectives." John finishes.
"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job." Sherlock says proud. I laugh. Sherlock looks at me. "What?"
"A consulting detective." I laugh again. "Only one in the world. I invented the job." I mock him. "You are so arrogant."
"Well at least I like myself." He says and crosses his arms. I roll my eyes.
"So what does a consulting detective do?" John says slowly, trying to get rid of the tension.
"When the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me." Sherlock says.
"The police don't consult amateurs." John says.
Sherlock throws him a look and I start laughing. "When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised." Sherlock says.
"Yes, how did you know?" John asks. I look up at Sherlock. I was wondering how he knew all the things he did.
"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart's, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq." Sherlock says and looks at me. "You were easy. Your clothes gave away that you have given up on yourself. You wear baggy clothes and didn't care about the spot on your outfit yesterday. I know about your sister from Molly. That isn't cheating, that is listening." He finishes and turns to the front.
"You said I had a therapist." John says slowly.
"You've got a psychosomatic limp – of course you've got a therapist. Then there's your brother." Sherlock says.
"Hmmm?" John asks.
Sherlock holds out his hand. "Your phone." John gives his phone to him. "It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare – you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then." Sherlock turns the phone over and looks at it. "Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already."
"The engraving." John says.
I look over at the phone and see:
"Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help: that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you don't like his drinking." Sherlock says.
"How can you possibly know about the drinking?" John asks.
Sherlock smiles. "Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone; never see a drunk's without them." He finished and hands the phone back. "There you go, you see – you were right."
"I was right? Right about what?" John asks.
"The police don't consult amateurs." Sherlock says and looks out the window. I notice that he is biting his lip nervously. Was he worried about what John would say? I knew he didn't care what I had to say.
"That… was amazing." John breathed out.
Sherlock looks back at John. He looked like he was surprised. He sits there blinking. "Do you think so?" Sherlock asks softly.
"Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary." John says and smiles.
He looks at me. "What do you think about it?"
I look up at him surprised. "Me? You care about what I have to say?" He nods. So he isn't always a prick. "It was amazing like John said."
He smiles. "That's not what people normally say." Sherlock says.
"What do people normally say?" I ask softly.
"'Piss off'" He says and smiles briefly at John and then smiles at me. I laugh and look ahead.
The car gets to Lauriston Gardens and Sherlock gets out. I go to get out on John's side and he holds out his hand. I look at it. "What are you doing?" I ask.
"Trying to help you out." John says slowly.
I blush. No one has ever tried to help me in any way. I take his hand and he helps me out of the taxi. "Thank you." I go to the back of the taxi where Sherlock is waiting. We start walking to the crime scene.
"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asks.
"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce; and Harry is a drinker." John says.
"Spot on, then. I didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock says and looks impressed with himself.
"And Harry's short for Harriet." John says with a smirk. I laugh into my hand.
I notice that Sherlock has stopped. "Harry's your sister."
John either doesn't notice or isn't caring. I follow John. "Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" John asks.
"Yeah, I have the same question." I say.
"Sister!" Sherlock says, furiously and through gritted teeth.
"No, seriously, what are we doing here?" John ask. I smile at him for saying we and not I this time. He is listening to me. No one ever listens to me.
Sherlock starts walking. "There is always something." He says exasperated.
We all get to the police tap and are met by a dark skinned women. "Hello freak." She says and smirks. I freeze up. Was she talking to me? Did she know Irene and found out about me? I started to breathe a little faster and looked down. I didn't want John or Sherlock to know everything about my life. Sherlock deducted that I had given up, which I had, but they didn't know it all. "Well, you know what I think, don't you?" I hear the woman say. I look up and see that Sherlock and the woman have been having a conversation. So she wasn't calling me a freak. She was calling Sherlock one. I frown.
Sherlock lifts the tape and ducks underneath it. "Always, Sally." He breathes in through his nose. "I even know you didn't make it home last night."
"I don't…" She says a little worry bleeding through her face. She see John and I and looks at us. "Er, who are they?"
"Colleagues of mine. Doctor Watson and Miss Mullen." Sherlock says and turns to us. "Doctor Watson, Miss Mullen, Sergeant Sally Donovan." He smiles fakely. "Old friend." He says sarcastically. Donovan, why does that name seem familiar.
"Colleagues? How do you get colleagues?" Sally asks in disbelief. She turns to John and me. "What, did he follow you home?" She goes on.
I notice that Sherlock has some hurt in his eyes from Sally's remarks. I stand up straight and look at her. "No Miss. Donovan. We choose to be with him." I finally remember why her name sounded familiar. I lean in and look into her eyes. "And if you want to keep hanging out with Miss Adler, I would be a little nicer to Sherlock."
She looks frighten. "How do you know about Adler?"
I smirk. "Just be nicer and you won't have to worry." I lift up the tape and join Sherlock on the other side. He looks at me questionably. I knew he would have questions but he would not be getting any answers.
"Would it be better if I just waited and…" John started to say.
Sherlock lifts the tape. "No." He simply says.
As John walks under the tape, Sally lifts a radio to her mouth. "Fr- Er Sherlock is here. Bringing him in." She says into the radio and leads us into the house. I notice Sherlock looking at area and at the ground as we approach the house. He looks up when we reach the pavement. A man dressed in a coverall comes out of the house.
"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again." Sherlock says and smiles fackely.
The man, Anderson, looks at Sherlock with distaste. "It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" He says with anger in his voice.
Sherlock takes a deep breath through his nose. "Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?" Sherlock asks and smirks.
"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that." Anderson said.
"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock says.
"My deodorant?" Anderson asks.
Sherlock gets a quirky expression on his face and says "It's for men." I cough to cover up a laugh. Sherlock looks at me and smiles briefly.
"Well, of course it's for men! I'm wearing it." Anderson says angrily.
"So's Sergeant Donovan." Sherlock says and grins. Anderson looks to Donovan in shock. Sherlock sniffs pointedly again. "Ooh, and I think it just vaporized. May I go in?"
Anderson turns to Sherlock and points at him. "How look: whatever you're trying to imply…"
"I'm not implying anything." Sherlock says and heads towards the front door past Donovan. "I'm sure Sally came around for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over." He turns back to us. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." Sherlock says and smiles smugly. He turns and goes into the house. Anderson and Donovan watch him in horror. I laugh and John walks past Donovan, briefly bit pointedly looking down at her knees. He then follows Sherlock inside.
I walk to Donovan and smirk. "Just remember. Keep me happy and I won't talk to Adler." I follow inside. I knew that even if I did talk to my sister, she wouldn't do anything. I knew that even just saying her name would make people run in fear. I can use that for my own advantage. I come inside to John putting on some blue coverall. Sherlock has taken off his gloves and put on a pair of latex gloves.
"And then who is this?" I hear. I look over and see that man that was in our flat earlier.
"She is also with me." Sherlock says.
John looks at Sherlock and me. "Aren't you gonna put one on?" I assume he is talking about the coveralls. I shake my head and Sherlock just looks at him sternly. John shakes his head and laughs.
"So where are we?" Sherlock asks the man.
He picks up a pair of latex gloves at the same time I do. I stands up and looks at Sherlock. "Upstairs."
Hope you all liked it. I will get the next chapter up tonight.
Review and write me feedback please. :)