“No, Detective Inspector Lestrade, I need to speak with him.” John said into his phone as they rode in the back of a taxi. “It’s important. It’s an emergency.”
“Left here, please.” Laura told the cabbie.
They were on the hunt to catch the murderer. Before he took out Sherlock Holmes. The computer was still beeping at them, showing the address of where the murderer and Jennifer Wilson’s cellphone were. A dangerous game.
“No luck, Doctor?” Laura raised a brow as she looked at him.
“No.” He answered with a sigh.
Soon, they were standing outside a university. At night. Here? Why here? Laura stepped out of the cab, and she looked around the area. Ah, she had been right. The killer was a cabbie, and Sherlock went out on a joy ride with him. It was decided they split up. Laura crossed her arms as she entered one of the buildings, hoping to find Sherlock alive.
“Sherlock, where are you?” Laura spoke to herself, not wanting to bring attention to her.
The schoolteacher moved through the dark halls, arms crossed. Quiet. It was far too quiet for her liking. The perfect place for a murder, then. No one around. No people to disturb or interrupt the murder. Quite genius. And terrifying.
“Sherlock!” She called out for her brother once more, hoping to get an answer.
Laura was opening doors and looking around hallways. She was moving as fast as she could. Her heart was beating in her chest. This is what made Sherlock excited. The thrill. The excitement. The adrenaline rushing, pumping through your body. The woman jumped as she heard a bang. A gunshot. She recognized that sound all too well.
“Shit, that better not be Sherlock.” She muttered to herself as she ran through the halls.
A final door. Her brother. She pushed it open to see the cabbie on the ground. Broken glass. Laura panted as she looked across at the other building. The man gasped and coughed from the ground. She watched as her brother knelt down beside him.
“Was I right? I was, wasn’t I?” Sherlock held up a pill. “Did I get it right?”
“Sherlock!” Laura scolded him.
The light went from the cabbie’s eyes. Sherlock was still badgering him about if he was right. She would never understand how his brain worked. He stopped, throwing the pill down and standing up. Sherlock stared directly down at the dying man.
“Okay. Tell me this. Your sponsor. Who was it?” Sherlock demanded. “The one who told you about me, my fan. I want a name.”
“Sponsor? He was sponsored?” Laura repeated, furrowing her brows.
“You’re dying, but there’s still time to hurt you.” Sherlock insisted. “Give me a name.”
The man shook his head, refusing to give up his sponsor. Sherlock was convincing. Well, he was more manipulative, and his plan was to step on the man’s arm. Good grief. The man groaned and gasped at the pain as Laura shook her head.
“A name! Now.”
“Sherlock, you can’t just torture him!” Laura sighed at her brother.
“The name!” Sherlock demanded, applying more pressure.
The man gasped and shouted out, “Moriarty!”
Laura thought about the name as the man died. Moriarty. What did this man, woman, person want with Sherlock Holmes? Sirens could be heard from the distance. Oh, finally, the police come. Both Holmes siblings were escorted out to an ambulance and given shock blankets.
“Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me.” Sherlock complained as Lestrade strolled over to them.
“Yeah, it’s for shock.” Greg answered him.
“We’re not in shock. At least, I’m not in shock.” Sherlock stated.
“Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs.” Lestrade explained.
Laura rolled her eyes, taking off the shock blanket. Not in shock. Confused. She was confused. And wanted to just go home. Have dinner. Have some wine. Teach in the morning perhaps. A normal day. Wouldn’t be happening as long as she related to Sherlock Holmes. Normal wasn’t in the vocabulary of the Holmes.
“So, the shooter. No sign?” Sherlock asked Greg.
“Cleared off before we got here.” Lestrade shook his head. “But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him, but… We’ve got nothing to go on.” The Detective Inspector shrugged his shoulders as he explained.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Sherlock, you would say that though.” Sherlock then hushed her.
“Okay. Give me.” Lestrade demanded from the consulting detective.
“The bullet they just dug out of the wall’s from a handgun. A kill shot over that distance, that kind of a weapon. That’s a crack shot we’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.” Sherlock began explaining to Lestrade. “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, and nerves of steel…” He trailed off as his eyes fell on John.
“Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.” Sherlock shook his head.
“Ignore all of that.” Sherlock told Lestrade. “It’s just the, er, the shock talking.”
“Mm-hm. Sure, Sherlock.” Laura rolled her eyes at her brother as he walked away.
“Where are you going?” Lestrade squinted his eyes, following him.
“I just need to talk about the rent.” A lie.
“I still got questions.” Lestrade insisted.
Laura rolled her eyes at the men, sighing as she felt the blanket being placed back around her shoulders. Maybe she’ll keep it. It wasn’t a horrendous color. It would fit right in at her flat. She walked over to John as she watched her brother argue with the Detective Inspector. She tossed off the blanket as Sherlock joined them.
“Erm, Sergeant Donovan has just been explaining everything.” John cleared his throat. “The two pills. Dreadful business, isn’t it? Dreadful.” He said as he looked at Laura and Sherlock.
“Good shot.” Sherlock commented.
“Yes. Yes, must have been. Through that window.” John nodded his head.
“You’re full of it, Watson.” Laura rolled her eyes.
“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.” Sherlock said to him. He looked at the man, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course I’m all right.”
“Well, you have just killed a man.” Sherlock raised his brows.
“Yes.” John confirmed that. “That’s true, isn’t it? But he wasn’t a very nice man.”
“No. No, he wasn’t, really, was he?” Sherlock agreed with that.
“Frankly a bloody awful cabbie.” John nodded, and both Holmes siblings chuckled.
“Quite true. Just terrible.” Laura remarked.
“You should have seen the route he took us to get here.” Sherlock was trying to contain his laughs as the three of them walked away.
“Stop it! We can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene. Stop it.” John shook his head.
“Well, you’re the one who shot him.” Sherlock quipped back.
“Keep your voice down.” John scolded him.
Laura chuckled as the doctor apologized. All three of them were horrible, but she had to be the best schoolteacher ever. Taught by day, solved crimes by night. With Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Sounds like some insane story. A pretty shit story at that. Both Sherlock and John apologized for their giggling.
“You were gonna take that damn pill, weren’t you?” John asked Sherlock.
“Do you need to ask?” Laura answered him.
“Course I wasn’t.” Sherlock said, shaking his head at both of them. “Biding my time. Knew you’d turn up.” He continued.
“Shut up!” Laura scoffed at him.
“No, you didn’t. That’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? You risk your life to prove you’re clever.” John remarked.
“Why would I do that?” Sherlock inquired.
“Because you’re an idiot.” John and Laura said at the same time.
“Dinner?” Sherlock offered.
Laura shook her head, watching as the two men walked off. Bunch of idiots. She then noticed a familiar. John did as well, warning Sherlock about Mycroft as he stepped out of a car. She decided to follow after her brother and John for a little longer.
“I know exactly who that is.” Sherlock stated as the trio walked over to him.
“So… Another case cracked.” Mycroft remarked, eyeing his siblings. “How very public-spirited.” He continued as he met up with the three of them, “Though that’s never really your motivation, is it?”
“What are you doing here?” Sherlock demanded from Mycroft.
“As ever, I’m concerned about you.”
“Yes, I’ve been hearing about your concern.”
“Always so aggressive.” Mycroft shook his head. “Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?”
“Oddly enough, no.” Sherlock answered sarcastically.
“We have more in common than you’d like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish.” Mycroft commented, looking at the man. “People will suffer. And you know how it always upset Mummy.”
“I upset her?” Sherlock scoffed. “Me? It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft.”
“No. No, wait… Mummy? Who’s Mummy?” John questioned, looking at Mycroft and Sherlock.
“Mother. Our mother.” Sherlock answered him, staring down Mycroft. “This is our brother, Mycroft.”
And now here comes the petty squabbles and insults. All of this got quite old. Sherlock mocked Mycroft’s weight. Mycroft called Sherlock an idiot. Blah, blah, blah.
“He’s your brother?”
“Of course he’s my brother.”
“Gentlemen, as much I would love to hear this, I am going to go. I have a class to teach. See you around the holidays, brothers. Later, John.” Laura interrupted all conversation.
She then left before it could get any uglier. It always did. Could depend on Sherlock and Mycroft to make their arguments quite ugly. Laura shook her head as she walked away. Well, this ought to be fun.