Deductions: A Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter Nine

Small fairy lights strung up on the surrounding trees made the night air glisten whimsically as soft music drifted across the Thames.

"Isn't this wonderful John?" asked Taylor as she clutched John's arm with a tight grip.

"Yes, yes, marvellous," he replied, trying not to wince as his circulation was slowly but surely being cut off. His eyes drifted away from the little river-side stalls and performers, and the gentle procession of fair-goers and became fixed on the tall, curly-haired man walking a few strides in front of them.

"So, um, Sherlock?" he started, a little hesitantly. He became painfully aware of how Taylor's grip tightened when he uttered his friend's name. "This person you're meeting, where exactly are you meeting him."

"Oh I'm not sure," Sherlock replied flippantly. "I seem to have forgotten our exact meeting location. I'll just have to stroll around and look for him. You don't mind if I tag along with you, do you?"

"I'm sure it's no problem, right Sweetie?" said John, looking to Taylor whose lips had become rather thin.

"No, no problem at all," she replied with a forced smile.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Sherlock, clapping his hands together. "This shall be rather fun, don't you agree?"

John was not having fun. Taylor was incredibly sour about having to spend her date night with Sherlock following along and constantly setting her off with his side remarks. John was having trouble keeping up with all the damage control he had to do.

"Ahaha, Sherlock's such a tease."

"No, he means that in a friendly."

"When he said librarians were dull, he meant his old high school librarian. Ahaha, oh Sherlock you shouldn't generalise."

After this final insult, Taylor stalked off, declaring that she needed to use the little girl's room. John sighed. He had no idea how he was going to make it up to her now. He didn't think he had enough money for jewellery or fancy restaurants, or the creativity to come up with some sentimental gesture. This relationship was as good as over. And yet, Sherlock hadn't seemed to pick up on his  melancholy state. In fact, he seemed almost jovial.

"What a fantastic night for it, eh? Not a cloud in sky!" Sherlock beamed.
"Shouldn't you be looking for Graham, instead of star gazing?" snapped John irritably.

"Graham? I'll be meeting him in about ten minutes on the bridge," he informed John, his eyes still fixed upon the night sky.

John stared at Sherlock incredulously, his fury building. "Do you mean to tell me, that you knew all along where and when you were meeting this bloke."

"That is correct."

"And instead you lied to me. Forced your way in on my date, with my girlfriend ..." John was at a loss for words. "For what? For a laugh? Because I'm not laughing Sherlock!"

Sherlock turned his gaze to meet John's. John's fists were clenched in anger as he met that piercing blue gaze. He tried to read Sherlock's expression but he gave nothing away. If anything, there was perhaps a sadness to his eyes. However, that made no sense. The man had deliberately sabotaged his relationship with Taylor!

"Of course it wasn't joke," said Sherlock, his voice soft and sincere.

John opened his mouth the reply when Taylor reappeared at his side.

"What are we talking about boys?" she asked, the fake smile once again plastered on her face.

"Sherlock's found that guy. He was just leaving," said John tersely, not taking his eyes off Sherlock.

"Oh excellent," smiled Taylor,  her joy a little more convincing this time. "So long Sherlock! Good luck with the case!"

She grabbed John by the arm and spun him away, leading him through the little market stalls. Sherlock stood back and watched them leave, a dull ache filling his chest. Enough, he told himself. We've got a job to do.

He made his way to the bridge and stood in the centre, staring out at the river and the twinkling lights. It was much darker over here, and quieter; only the gentle flow of the water and the distance chatter from the fair disturbed the silence.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock turned around to see a tall gentleman, cloaked in a thick jacket staring at him with an uncertain expression.

"Indeed, it is I. Graham Russet I presume?"

The man nodded, making his soft blond curls bounce up and down. "Yeah, you wanted to talk me about Chloe?"
"I did. You were her boyfriend, am I correct?"
"Yeah," he replied, shoving his hands into his coat pocket. "We've been together for almost a year now. She moved into my apartment about a month ago."

"I see. Now would you describe her behaviour in the days leading up to her death as suspicious?"

Graham shook his head. "No. She was just as she always was. Happy, smiling ... She was probably more excited than usual, what with the party coming up. She always loved a celebration." Graham smiled, though his eyes were tinged with sadness. "I just ... can't understand why this happened."

"I see. And how was your relationship with Chloe in the last few days?"
"What? Fine, we were fine. Everything was going great," he replied. "Wait, you can't seriously think that I would do something like this?"
"I'm simply eliminating all possibilities. You say you'd had no fights, no affairs, not been caught in a lie?"

"God no! I loved Chloe! I would never do anything to hurt her!" Graham exclaimed, the raw emotion making his voice shake. "For God's sake, I was even planning to propose."

"You were?"

"Yes," he said with a bitter laugh. "I had it all planned out. After her birthday party, when the guests had gone home, I was going to give her my present; two tickets to Paris. And then I was going to propose to her on top of the Eiffel Tower."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "How terribly cliche," he commented.

Graham shrugged, "She was always a sucker for that cheesy romance stuff. Now I don't know what to do. There's so much to do ... plans to cancel ..."

Sherlock carried on, unsympathetically. "Well, thank you for your time. If we need anything else, we'll call you."

Graham nodded, and looked as through he was about to walk away when he exclaimed, "Oh wait, he's my business card. I'm not always at home, so this is a better number to get me."

Sherlock took the card from him, and waved his hand in farewell as Graham crossed the bridge and disappeared into the night. Sherlock tucked the card into his pocket and stood still a moment, breathing in the chilly night air. From bad to worse, their investigations were only met with dead ends, and John ... John was furious with him and rightly so. He'd messed up badly tonight. When he got home, would he even have a best friend? So much for making things like how they used to be. He should've know. Only fools think they can bring back the past. Now he'd ruined the future.

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Thanks for reading! I know it's been forever since I updated, so massive apologises for that. I've hit a lot of roadblocks with my writing and I'm staring to overcome them.

Comment your thoughts and suspicions about who dunnit! Who knows who it will be???? (It's me, I know who did it)

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