SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

To the Hospital

Sherlock placed his tools down and followed John out of the lab. He grabbed his raincoat and scarf and dressed himself as he walked beside his companion. “St. Thomas Hospital, I presume?”

John looked up at Sherlock and an eyebrow rose inquisitively. “How did you know it was that one? It could’ve been our usual branch.”

“You came in from the west side, John. Meaning, you just came from St. Thomas Hospital.”

“Well, that makes sense,” John uttered, taking a piece of paper from his back pocket. He waved it front of his friend. “We found this in her thumb pocket—,”

“Thumb pocket?” Sherlock repeated as he rammed his shoulder into the exit door. It swung open and stayed in that position until the two filed out.

“Yes, a pocket for a thumb. Anyway, it’s a supermarket list. Must’ve rained because it’s wet.”

Sherlock reached out and pinched the paper with his index and thumb. “No, it didn’t rain. She spilled fizzy on her lap. Feel the paper again, it’s a bit sticky.”

John rolled his eyes and shook his head, wondering if Sherlock would ever leave the slightest mystery alone. “Well, it’s a list of eggs, milk, bacon, and I can’t make the rest out. I was guessing it was dish soap. But can’t tell since it’s smudged.”

“Doesn’t help.”

“But, Sherlock, a list could tell us a lot of things. Like, she must have parents who sent her out on an errand. Or, this may tell us she lives alone and was going out…alone. And the writing, it’s not written by a girl, it’s written by a man. Meaning, she could be living with someone, or…I don’t know. This is evidence. But, if it doesn’t mean—,”

“You’re getting better at your deduction, John. You’re not thorough though. I just wanted to hear your reasons why a slip of paper is important. It’s quite important—everything counts.”

John tried to hide the beaming smile at the words uttered by his favorite detective. “Well, thank you, I try.”

Sherlock pulled his gloves on and returned John’s delighted grin with an approving one. “Hail a cab, John. I want to talk to Lestrade when we get there, so, busy yourself with something.”

John leaned over the curb with a waving hand and then pulled back when a black cab approached them. The two men piled into the car and the cab sprang to life again. While they sat in the back, Sherlock pulled out his Smartphone and his fingers began racing across its keyboard.  “Sonia Griffin, age 19, found murdered several miles from the Yard’s. You didn’t say she was still alive to get me involved, did you, John?”

“Oh, of course not. I saw her myself. She’s alive and breathing. Has a neck brace. What broke was her collarbone. When Lestrade found out she was still alive, he booked it as a secret case for several reasons, one being that she had the message on her arm and that it could lead us to her killer. Though, the public knows her as dead so that they won’t be hounding us.”

“How amusing. The killer just wants it between us and him. What about the nurses and doctors at St. Thomas?”

“Lestrade had the staff sign documents, promising they wouldn’t leak the news. But, you know, we’ll see how long that holds out. Which means,” John shifted in his seat and faced his friend, “you’ve got only a matter of time before people realize she’s alive.”

“As if anyone would care if she’s alive except her killer. She’s a loner; a runaway. Look at her profile photo in the paper, it’s obvious.  No one will care if she came back, and if they did care, it’ll only last for a few days and then she’ll go back wherever she came from.”

“Which would be where?”

“Don’t know.” Sherlock squinted at the information he had on his Smartphone. “The photo’s black and white. Doesn’t help me very much, I’ll have to see her in person to know that.” Sherlock looked at the photo again and brought it closer to his eyes. In a voice half to himself and half-outloud, he remarked genuinely, “She’s not bad looking, don’t you think?”

“Yes, she’s lovely. Thought so when I first saw her in the news. Doesn’t look like she knows that though.”

“Shame, isn’t it? Low self-esteem can get anyone in a world of trouble.” Sherlock placed the paper down and spent the rest of the trip gazing out of the window.