Thank you Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan on livejournal for the transcripts. They help so much.
You guys can find her transcripts at: .
Here is the next part of A Study in Pink
I own nothing, except Calliah
I follow Sherlock out of the house. Sherlock pauses for a minute and shrugs himself into his coat. "Taxi for Sherlock 'olmes." The cabbie says and is leaning on the cab.
Sherlock steps forward and tries to shut the door. He looks back and frowns. I smiles and closes the door. He looks forward. "I didn't order a taxi." Sherlock says to the cabbie.
"Doesn't mean you don't need one." The cabbie says and shrugs.
"You're the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street." Sherlock figures out. When did they go to Northumberland Street? I frowned. "It was you, not your passenger."
"See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer." The cabbie explains.
Sherlock takes a few more steps forward and looks up towards the windows of the flat. I step forward. He wasn't going to get rid of me. "Is this a confession?" Sherlock asks.
"Oh, yeah. An' I'll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise." The cabbie say. I look at him confused.
"Why?" Sherlock asks. I hear the curiousness in his voice.
"'Cause you're not going to do that." The cabbie says.
"Am I not?" Sherlock asks.
"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. 'olmes. I spoke to 'em ... and they killed themselves. An' if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing." The cabbie leans forward. "I will never tell you what I said."
Sherlock stares at him. After a moment, the cabbie straightens up and starts to walk around the front of the cab. "No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result." Sherlock says.
The cabbie stops and turns back towards us. "An' you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?" He turns again and continues around to the driver's door. He gets him and settles into his seat.
Sherlock looks at me and frowns. He says and bites his lip and walks closer to the cab. I follow. Sherlock looks back up to the flat window and then he bends and looks into the open side window of the cab. "If I wanted to understand, what would I do?"
The cabbie looks at him. "Let me take you for a ride."
"So you can kill me too?" Sherlock asks.
"I don't wanna kill you, Mr. 'olmes. I'm gonna talk to yer... and then you're going to kill yourself." The cabbie says and turns back to the front.
Shelock stands up staright and looks lost in thought. I knew he was considering the situation. Sherlock turns to me. "Go back inside. If I am not back by tomorrow, come look for me."
"Never going to happen." I say and cross my arms.
He sighs. "I had to try." He gets into the car and keeps the door open. I get in and slam the door.
"Who's she?" the cabbie asks Sherlock.
"She can talk for herself." I say and roll my eyes. "The name is Calliah Adler." I say and sit up straight. I had to try and make him frightened for his life.
He looks back at me. I could see a little fear in his eyes and then looks straight forward. Sherlock looks at me confused. I look over at him and smile. 'Adler?' He mouths. I shake my head. I could explain to him later. "How did you find me?" Sherlock asks the cabbie. I move up in my seat and look at his car. I see that his name is Jeff and some pictures of his kids. The mother is out of the picture. I wonder what happened there.
"Oh, I recognized yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock 'olmes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!" Jeff told us.
"Who warned you about me?" Sherlock asked.
"Just someone out there who's noticed you." Jeff said. I frowned. Mycroft wouldn't do that so is the one who noticed Sherlock?
"Who?" Sherlock asks and learns forward. I can see that he is making deductions about the cabbie. I sit back and cross my legs and arms. I am so glad I wore my sweat pants and sweat shirt. If I was going to die, I'm glad that I would be comfortable doing it. "Who would notice me?"
"Mycroft does." I say softly. I see Sherlock look back at me and frown. He would have a lot of questions for me now. If we get out of here. Sherlock looks forward to the cabbie.
Jeff meets Sherlock eyes in the rear view mirror. "You're too modest, Mr. 'olmes."
"I'm really not." Sherlock says.
"You've got yourself a fan." Jeff says and smiles.
"Tell me more." Sherlock says nonchalantly and sits back in his seat.
"That's all you're gonna know…" He pauses. "In this lifetime." Jeff says and smiles.
After a while, we stop out front of two identical buildings side by side. Jeff turns off the engine and gets out, coming to Sherlock's side door. He opens it and looks at us. "Where are we?" Sherlock asks.
"You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are." Jeff says.
"Rolan-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?" Sherlock says confused.
"It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out." Jeff explains.
"And you just walk your victims in? How?" Sherlock asks. Jeff takes out a pistol and points it at Sherlock. I grab Sherlock's hand and gasp. Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns his head away. "Oh, dull." He says.
"Don't worry. It gets better." Jeff says.
"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint." Sherlock says and rubs his thumb on my hand, trying to calm me down.
"I don't. It's much better than that." Jeff explains and lowers the gun. "Don't need this you, 'cause you'll follow me." He walks away confidently.
Sherlock sits there and then looks at me. "Stay here."
I shake my head. "Nope." He sighs and gets out of the cab and holds his hand out for me. I grab it and get out. I smile at him and then we follow Jeff into the building.
We follow Jeff up the stairs and he opens the door to one of the rooms. I go in and Sherlock follows. Jeff walks inside and releases the door. He lets it swing closed as he walks over to the some switches on the wall and turns on the lights. We are in a large classroom which has long fixed wooden benches and plastic chairs. Sherlock and I walk into the room deeper and look around.
"What do you think?" Jeff asks us. Sherlock raises his hand and shrugs. I cross my arms. "It's up to you two. You're the ones who are gonna die 'ere." Jeff says.
"No, we aren't." Sherlock says.
"That's what they all say." Jeff says and gestures to one of the benches. "Shall we talk?" He pulls out one of the chairs and sits down.
Sherlock pulls out a chair for me and I sit. He grabs another chair, flips it around and sits down opposite. He sighs dramatically. "Bit risky, wasn't it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid. And Mrs. Hudson will remember you." Sherlock says.
"You call that a risk? Nah." Jeff says. He reaches into the left pocket of his cardigan. "This is a risk." He takes out a small glass bottle with a screw top on it and puts it onto the table in front of him. There is a single large capsule inside. I look at Sherlock and see he is looking at the bottle with no reaction. "Ooh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this." He reaches into his right pocket and takes out two more identical bottle containing an identical capsule and puts it onto the table beside the first bottle. "I'm glad I have an extra bottle for Miss Adler but you weren't expecting that, were yer?" He leans forward. "Ooh, you're going to love this."
"Love what?" Sherlock asks.
Jeff sits back. "Sherlock 'olmes. Look at you! 'Ere in the flesh. That website of yours: your fan told me about it." Jeff says and smiles.
"My fan?" Sherlock asks.
"You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius. "The Science of Deduction." Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think?" He looks down angrily. "Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?" He looks up again into Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock looks back at him for a long moment, narrowing his eyes, then makes a realization.
"Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius too." Sherlock says. His voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man drivin' a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you ever know." Jeff says.
Sherlock holds his gaze for a second, then looks down to the table. "Okay, three bottles. Explain." Sherlock asks.
"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die." Jeff explains.
"Both bottles are of course identical." Sherlock shrugs.
"In every way." Jeff says.
"And you know which is which." I say.
He looks at me and smiles. "Course I know."
"But we don't." Sherlock says.
"Wouldn't be a game if you knew. You two are the ones who chooses." Jeff explains.
"Why should I? I've got nothing to go one. What is it for me? Or Calliah?" Sherlock asks.
"I 'aven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine." Jeff explains. Sherlock starts to grin. I frown. I didn't want to take the 'medicine'. "I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you two don't." Sherlock looks down at the bottles. He was concentrating properly on which one we would take. I frown and look at Jeff. He smiles at me. "Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. 'olmes?"
"This is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice." Sherlock asks.
"And now I'm givin' you two one." Jeff says. Sherlock looks up at him. "You you're your time. Get yourself together." He licks his lips in anticipation. "I want your best game."
"It's not a game. It's chance." Sherlock says.
"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr. 'olmes, its chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this ... is the move." With his left hand he slides the left-hand bottle across the table towards Sherlock. He licks his top lip as he pulls his hand back and leaves the bottle where it is. "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one." Jeff looks down at the bottles briefly then meets Sherlock's eyes. "You ready yet, Mr. 'olmes? Ready to play? We both know that you are playing for Miss Adler too."
"Play what? It's a chance." Sherlock says.
"You're not playin' the numbers, you're playin' me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?" Jeff says and smirks.
"Still just chance." Sherlock says.
"Four people in a row? It's not just chance." Jeff argues.
"Luck." I say in a sing-song way. I smile at Sherlock.
"It's genius. I know 'ow people think." Jeff says as Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I know 'ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my 'ead." Sherlock looks exasperated. "Everyone's so stupid – even you." Sherlock's gaze sharpens. "Or maybe God just loves me." Sherlock straightens up and leans forward, folding his hands in front of him on the table.
"Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie." Sherlock says and lifts his folded hands in front of his mouth and gazes at Jeff intently. So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?"
Jeff nods down to the bottles. "Time to play."
Sherlock unfolding his fingers and adopting the prayer position in front of his mouth "Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no-one to tell you. But there's a photograph of children. The children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she'd still be there. The photograph's old but the frame is new. You think of your children but you don't get to see them." Jeff's gaze slides away from Sherlock and for the first time there's a hint of pain in his eyes. I frown softly. "Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts." He extends his index fingers. "Ah, but there's more." Jeff lifts his gaze back to Sherlock as he points his index fingers towards him. "Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you're wearing's at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?" Jeff has got control of himself again and his expression says nothing as he gazes back at Sherlock. The detective's eyes widen. "Ahh. Three years ago – is that when they told you?
"Told me what?" Jeff says flatly.
"That you're a dead man walking." Sherlock says.
"So are you." Jeff offers up.
"You don't have long, though. Am I right?" Sherlock says.
Jeff smiles. "Aneurism." He lifts his right hand and taps the side of his head. "Right in 'ere." Sherlock smiles in satisfaction. "Any breath could be my last." Jeff explains.
"And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people." Sherlock says, frowning.
"I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can 'ave on an aneurism." Jeff says.
"No. No, there's something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children." Sherlock says thoughtfully.
Jeff looks away and sighs. "Ohh." Jeff says and looks at Sherlock again. "You are good, ain't you?"
"But how?" Sherlock asks.
"When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs." Jeff says.
"Or serial killing." I offer up.
Sherlock smiles at me and then looks back at Jeff. "You'd be surprised." Jeff says.
"Surprise me." Sherlock says.
Jeff leans forward. "I've a sponsor." Jeff explains.
"You have a what?" Sherlock asks.
"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think." Jeff tells us.
"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" Sherlock asks, frowning.
"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock 'olmes?" Jeff asks instantly. They stare at each other for a moment. I roll my eyes. Boy and their power struggle. "You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man ... and they're so much more than that."
I notice the side of Sherlock's nose twitches in distaste. "What d'you mean, more than a man? An organisation? What?"
"There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter." Jeff says. He nods down to the bottles. "Time to choose."
Sherlock looks down to the bottles, his eyes moving from one to the others. "What if we don't choose either? We could just walk out of here."
Sighing in a combination of exasperation and disappointment, Jeff lifts up the pistol and points it at Sherlock. "You can take your chance, or I can shoot you or your girlfriend in the head." I look at Sherlock and see him smiles calmly. He grabs my hand under the table and rubs my hand with his thumb. I calm down. If Sherlock wasn't worried, then I wouldn't be.
"Funnily enough, no-one's ever gone for that option." Jeff laughs.
"We'll have the gun, please." Sherlock says and smiles.
"Are you sure?" Jeff asks.
"Definitely. The gun." I say.
"You don't wanna phone a friend?" Jeff asks. He was stalling.
Sherlock smiles confidently. "The gun." Jeff's mouth tightens, and slowly he squeezes the trigger. I squeal. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. Sherlock smiles smugly. "I know a real gun when I see one."
Calmly Jeff lifts the pistol/cigarette lighter and releases the trigger. The flame goes out. "None of the others did. She didn't." He says and points at me.
"Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case." Sherlock says. He stands up and holds a hand out to me. I take it and stand up. We start walking towards the door. Jeff puts the gun onto the desk and calmly turns in his seat.
"Just before you go, did you figure it out ..." Sherlock stops at the door and half-turns towards him. I turn with him. "... which one's the good bottle?"
"Of course. Child's play." Sherlock says.
"Well, which one, then?" Sherlock opens the door a little but shows no sign of leaving the room. "Which one would you 'ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?" Sherlock closes the door again and I sigh. "Come on. Play the game." Jeff says and chuckles.
Slowly Sherlock walks back towards him. I stay where I am. When he gets to the table, he reaches out and sweeps up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walks past him. Jeff looks down at the other two bottles with interest but his voice gives nothing away as he speaks. "Oh. Interesting." He picks up the bottle on the left as Sherlock looks down at the bottle in his own hand. Jeff has opened his bottle and tips the capsule out into his hand. He holds it up and looks at it closely as Sherlock examines his own bottle. "So what d'you think?" He looks up at Sherlock. "Shall we? Really, what do you think?" He stands up and faces Sherlock. "Can you beat me?" "Are you clever enough to bet your life?" Sherlock lifts his gaze from the bottle he's holding. "I bet you get bored, don't you? I know you do. A man like you ..." Sherlock undoes the lid of the bottle. I frown. I didn't want Sherlock to die. Mycroft would kill me. "... so clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it?" Sherlock takes out the capsule and holds it between his thumb and finger, raising it to the light to examine it more closely. "Still the addict." Slowly Sherlock lowers the pill again, holding it at eye level and gazing at it. "But this ... this is what you're really addicted to, innit?" Sherlock holds the pill in his fingers and stares at it. "You'd do anything ... anything at all ..." I notice Sherlock's fingers begin to tremble with excitement and anticipation. "... to stop being bored." Slowly Sherlock begins to move the pill closer to his mouth. Jeff matches the movement with his own pill. "You're not bored now, are you?" Each of their hands gets closer to their own mouth. "Innit good?"
A gunshot rings out and a bullet impacts Jeff's chest close to his heart, then goes through his body and smashes into the door behind him. As he falls to the floor, Sherlock drops his pill in surprise. Sherlock turns, slides over the desk behind him and hurries to the window, bending down to stare through the bullet hole in the glass. I rush over to Jeff and hold my hand on the bullet hole. Sherlock straightens up as Jeff breathes heavily and cough. Sherlock looks over, looks around the room. He picks up the pill and kneels down by Jeff. He shows Jeff the pill. I notice a large pool of blood underneath him and on my sweatpants. "Was I right?" Sherlock asks Jeff. Jeff turns his head away. "I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?" Jeff doesn't reply. Sherlock angrily hurls the pill across the room and stands up. I frown up at him. "Okay, tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me – my 'fan'. I want a name." Sherlock demands.
"No." Jeff says weakly.
"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you. Give me a name." Sherlock demands. Jeff shakes his head. Sherlock pushs me away and lifts his foot and puts it onto Jeff's shoulder. Jeff gasps in pain. "A name." Jeff cries out in pain. I frown and bring my knees to my chest. "Now." Jeff whines in pain. His face intent and manic, Sherlock leans his weight onto his foot. Jeff whimpers. "The NAME!" Sherlock yells furiously.
"MORIARTY!" Jeff yells agonized. His eyes close and his head rolls to the side. Sherlock steps back, turning his head away and looking reflective. After a few seconds, I noticed he is silently mouths the word 'Moriarty' to himself. I get up and go over to him. I put my hand on his arm. He looks down at me and frowns. "Do you know anyone by the name of Moriarty?" I shake my head and frown. He nods.
After a while, the police showed up and Sherlock and I were put on the back steps of an ambulance. They kept putting an orange black around our shoulders, even when we pushed it off.
"Why have we got these blankets? They keep putting these blankets on us." Sherlock asks Greg as he walks over.
"Yeah, it's for shock." Greg says.
"We are not in shock." Sherlock says.
"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs." Greg says and grins.
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "So, the shooter. No sign?" He asks.
"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but ..." Greg says and shrugs. "... got nothing to go on."
Sherlock looks at him pointedly. "Oh, I wouldn't say that."
Greg rolls his eyes. "Okay, gimme."
Sherlock stands up. I smile. "The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service ..." He looks around the area and slows down. I look over and see John standing behind the police tape. "... and nerves of steel ..." He trails off. John looks back at us innocently and then turns his head away. Greg turns to follow Sherlock's gaze and Sherlock turns back to him before he can start to ask questions. "Actually, do you know what? Ignore me." I laugh.
"Sorry?" Greg asks.
"Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking." Sherlock says. We start to walk towards John.
"Where're you two going?" Greg asks us.
"We just need to talk about the-the rent." I explain.
"But I've still got questions for you two." Greg says in aggravation.
We turn back to him. "Oh, what now? We're in shock! Look, we've got a blanket!" He brandishes the sides of the blanket at Lestrade as if to prove it.
"Sherlock and Calliah!" Greg yells.
"And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less." Sherlock says.
Greg looks at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Okay. We'll bring you two in tomorrow. Off you go."
We walk away to John. We take the blankets from our shoulders and bundle it up. Sherlock grabs mine and tosses them in the back of a police car, where John was standing. He holds up the police tape and lets me through. He follows me. "Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful." John says as we walk up.
"Good shot." Sherlock says softly.
"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window." John says, trying to look innocent. I laugh at his utter failure of it.
"Well, you'd know." Sherlock says. John looks up at him, still trying not to let his expression give him away. He was being unsuccessful. "Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case." John clears his throat and looks around nervously. I wrap my arms around his arm. He looks down and smiles softly. "Are you all right?" Sherlock asks John.
"Yes, of course I'm all right." John says.
"Well, you have just killed a man." Sherlock says.
"Yes, I…" He trails off. Sherlock and I watch him carefully. "That's true, innit?" He smiles. I lean my head on his arm and chuckle. "But he wasn't a very nice man." John finishes.
Sherlock nods in agreement. "No. No, he wasn't really, was he?" Sherlock says.
"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie." John adds.
Sherlock chuckles. He turns and starts leading us away. "That's true. He was a bad cabbie."
"Should have seen the route he took us to get here!" I exclaime.
John giggles and Sherlock smiles. I start laughing. "Stop! Stop, we can't giggle or laugh, it's a crime scene. Stop it!" John says and looks down at her.
"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me." Sherlock says.
"Keep your voice down!" John says. We walk past Donovan and I frown at her. "Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think." John says to Donovan.
"Sorry." Sherlock says to Donovan. I roll my eyes.
John clears his throat as we walk past Donovan. "You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?" He asks Sherlock.
Sherlock looks at him. "Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up." Sherlock says.
"No you didn't. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever." John says.
"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asks.
"Because you're an idiot." I say.
Sherlock smiles. After a little he forces the smile down. "Dinner?"
"Starving." John says. We turn and start to walk again.
"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle." Sherlock explains.
A car has pulled up and Mycroft gets out. I notice that John is staring at him. I smile. "Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about." John tells Sherlock.
Sherlock looks across at Mycroft. "I know exactly who that is." He walks closer to him and stops. He looks angrily. John glances round to gauge where the police are.
"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited… though that's never your motivation, is it?" Mycroft asks Sherlock very pleasantly.
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asks.
"As ever, I'm concerned about you and Miss Mullen." Mycroft says. I smile and skip over.
"Aww, you big lug. I never knew you cared." I joke. He looks down at me and rolls his eyes. I wrap my arms around his and lean my head on his arm. He sighs and looks back at Sherlock and John. They both look at me confused.
"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'." Sherlock says.
"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side? Miss Mullen has noticed that." Mycroft says.
"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock yells.
"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy." Mycroft says. I nod. I had talked to mummy Holmes a lot over the years. She and I had a talk every Sunday. We had even met a couple of times. She treated me like another child of her. I think she wanted me to get with Mycroft. I noticed that John had frowned. He was unsure of what he had just head.
"I upset her? Me?" Sherlock asks. Mycroft frowns. "It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft."
"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?" John asks.
"Mother – our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft, who apparently know Miss Mullen." Sherlock explains. John looks at Mycroft in amazement. "Putting on weight again?" He asks Mycroft.
"He is losing it, in fact." I say and frown. Sherlock was trying to get a rise out of Mycroft and I wouldn't stand for it. Mycroft puts a hand on my hand and pats it. I knew he was proud of me for standing up for him.
"He's your brother?!" John asks Sherlock.
"Of course he's my brother." Sherlock says.
"So he's not…" John starts.
"Not what?" Sherlock asks.
We all look at John as he shrugs in embarrassment. "I dunno – criminal mastermind?" He says and grimaces.
I laugh and Sherlock looks at Mycroft disparagingly. "Close enough."
"For goodness' sake!" I yell.
"I occupy a minor position in the British government." Mycroft explains.
"He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis." Mycroft and I sigh. "Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic."
Sherlock walks away. John starts to follow him but turns back to Mycroft, who has turned to watch Sherlock. I smile at him. He was very concerned about Sherlock. I understood that and I thought it was nice. "So, when – when you say you're concerned about him, you actually are concerned?" John asks.
"Yes, of course." Mycroft says.
"I mean, it actually is a childish feud?" John asks.
"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners." Mycroft says, still watching Sherlock.
"I can and still want to come." I say. Mycroft looks down at me and smiles.
"Maybe this year." He says.
"Yeah… no. God, no!" John says and half- turns to follow Sherlock. "I-I'd better, um.. Calliah, are you coming?" He asks me.
"Nah. I need some Mycroft time. Don't wait up." I tell him.
He nods and turns back to 'Anthea'. She is on her phone, like always. "Hello again." He says to her.
She looks up and smiles at him brightly. "Hello."
"Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening." He tries to remind her. I laugh softly. She stares at him as if she has never seen him before but reacts as if she is trying to pretend that she remembers him.
"Oh!" 'Anthea' says.
"Okay, good night. See you later Calliah." John says and glances at Mycroft and me. He turns and follows Sherlock.
"Good night, Doctor Watson." Mycroft says.
'Anthea' turns to us as we watch the boys leave. "Sir, shall we go?" She asks Mycroft.
"Interesting, that soldier fellow." Mycroft says. I roll my eyes. 'Anthea' looks briefly at the boys and then turns her attention back to her phone. "He could be the making of my brother – or make him worse than ever."
"What about me?" I ask him.
"Of you of course will make him worse. Which I am counting on." He say and smiles. He turns to 'Anthea'. "Either way, we'd better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active."
'Anthea' looks up from her phone. "Sorry, sir. Whose status?"
"Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson, and this little girl's." He says and gets into the car.
"Hey! I'm not a little girl." I get into the car and pout. He chuckles and puts my legs on his.
"Sure." He says and rolls his eyes at 'Anthea', who had gotten into the car. She laughs and goes back to her phone. "To my house." He tells the driver.
Sorry for how long it is. I just didn't see a good place to stop.
So how do you like Calliah?
I don't know if I should pair her with Sherlock or Mycroft. I would love your thoughts. or even if you think she should end up with Greg, John, or even Molly. I am open to suggestions :)
I will post more tomorrow. More of Calliah's backstory and then The Blind Banker, which isn't my favorite, but it is all good. :)