Deduce Me

Chapter Thirty-Three: *Insert Title Here*

Sherlock

I stepped up to the woman. She looked up at me, then added more drama to her act. I rolled my eyes discretely. That trick might work on one of the inspectors, but it definitely wouldn't work on me. But that's okay- I have my own act of disguise up my sleeve.

"Oh, no more questions, please," the woman wiped at her nose. "I've already spoken with the police."

"We're not with the--" John tried to answer, but I cut him off.

I stuck my hand out for her to shake. "Sherlock Holmes. I knew your husband."

John

"I'm sorry, who?" She grew suspicious. Jesus. What the hell is Sherlock doing? I'm usually the one to talk to the crying ones. "I don't think he ever mentioned you."

"Oh, he must've. I saw him just the other day. Strange that he would hire a car, though. Why would he do that?" A tear rolled down his cheek. My God. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it brilliantly.

"My husband has been away on business for two weeks," the woman contradicted. Sherlock looked at me, wearing a slightly panicked face, but he hid it well. "And no, it isn't! He was on his way home from the airport and he didn't want to take a cab!"

"Oh, that was him, alright! That was Mike all over!" Sherlock sniffed, as if he was holding back more tears. He laughed a little without humor, but he was waiting for her to respond.

"No, it wasn't!" she vehemently shouted.

"Wasn't it?" Sherlock sobered quickly, then turned and walked away. I glanced at the woman, who was now starting to become very, very angry, before following Sherlock.

"Uh, Sherlock? What are you doing?" I tried to keep up with his long stride, but I was practically jogging.

"Past tense. Did you notice? I could tell she was lying about something before I even spoke to her, but then she referred to her husband in the past tense. A bit premature, don't you think? They've only just found the car."

"Oh, you think she murdered her husband?"

"Nope. But she knows something about it. Where can we get a cab from here? We need to visit a certain rental car company."

>>>

"It's nice to meet you, Mr....?"

"Bogart. Mr. Bogart. How can I help you two?" The man sitting in front of us was your typical business man. Maybe a little too obsessed with cars, but he looked innocent enough. Of course, that's just me talking. I'm sure Sherlock already knew all his secrets by now.

"One of your cars was found this morning covered in blood. The man driving it is nowhere to be found. Can you tell us anything about him?"

"Oh, I hardly knew him. He was just a client." The man pulled up his sleeve so he could check his watch, then started to get up and put in his coat. "Actually, I'm late for a meeting. If, uh, if you need anything else, you can call me on my cell phone... Here you go."

Sherlock took the card. "Oh, I don't think we'll be needing anything else, Mr. Bogart, you've been very helpful." Sherlock smiled to himself as he walked out. "Come on, John, I need to get back to the lab."

I followed him out. "So? Did you get anything?"

"Oh, yes. But before I tell you anything, I need to check the data. I need to get that blood under a microscope, and then we're going to Scotland Yard. I've all but solved it."

I smiled to myself at Sherlock's confidence. It faded, though, when I remembered that there was a man somewhere, beaten and strapped to a bomb, just waiting for us to solve this case.

I walked a little faster.

>>>

Sherlock was carrying his file folder full of data into Scotland Yard. We approached the DI's office. "A pint," Sherlock said. "That was their first mistake."

"Oh, is this that case you're working on? How's it going?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him, but did not answer the question. "John noticed it first- the blood on the seats? It looked as if it had been simply poured there. John, how mush blood would you say was at the scene?"

"How much? I'd say... Well, about a pint."

"Exactly a pint. And there were clear sign of the blood being frozen. Mike- the 'victim'- had given his blood at some point in the past, and that was what they used to simulate a crime scene."

"Sorry, who's 'they'?" DI Lestrade asked, scribbling furiously on a notepad, trying to keep up with Sherlock.

"Apate." Sherlock smiled.

"What?" I asked.

"Apate: the Greek goddess of deception, lies, trickery, and fraud. Apate Car Services is only a front. If ever you need to get away fast- for whatever reason... money troubles, bad marriage- go to Apate. They stage a murder scene while you are relocated."

"So, where is he, then?"

"America."

"America?"

"'Cell phone.' That's what Mr. Bogart said. He must have picked up the term while he was there. Also, his watch was five hours behind. He obviously forgot to reset it after his flight. Now, Detective, send someone to go arrest Mr. Bogart. I need to let our bomber know that I've solved the case. We have a hostage to recover. Can I use your computer?" And just like that, without even waiting for an answer, Sherlock logged in to his bog and put out a post. The DI looked a little flustered, but he sped out of the room, notebook in hand.

I read over Sherlock's shoulder. Congratulations to Mike Lester on his move to America.

The phone rang. I ran to the door, yelling for Greg's dad. "Get bomb disposal!" I yelled. "We've got him!"

Sherlock put the phone on speaker. "Hello?"

"He says... you can come and get me. Help me, please!"

"We will be on our way. Can you tell us where you are?"

"I'm... I'm in London. Near the London Eye. Please, please hurry!"

>>>

"You did it," I whispered to Sherlock as the hostage was helped into an ambulance. The sun had set at some point, and it was getting colder by the minute. I leaned on Sherlock heavily. "It's been a long, long day, but you did it."

"Sherlock?" DI Lestrade called. "He's asking for you."

"He's asking for me?" We made our way over to the ambulance. The man was wrapped in a blanket while the EMTs looked him over. I could see that he had taken a few punches to the face, as both of his eyes here swollen and bruised. Lord knows what other injuries he was sprouting.

"Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?" he asked.

"That would be me," Sherlock answered hesitantly.

"He said... He said to tell you, 'Round Three is coming, Sherlock. Be prepared. I will be in touch. Expect to hear from me soon.'" He was loaded into the ambulance.

Sherlock and I stood in silence as everyone else drove away. Sherlock reached down and grasped my hand in his. I could feel him starting to shake. Was Sherlock... scared? I've never seen him anything close to scared before. Not even that time we were trailing a murderer and we were found out. I had been caught that time, leaving Sherlock to figure out a way to get both of us out alive. He had been angry, yes. Stressed, of course. But I never saw him scared.

Frankly, him being scared was scaring me.

(A/N: And, I'm going to end this chapter right here. Can you tell that I hate writing cases? The ones I write always end rather abruptly. Anyway, sorry for the delay... and, for future references, if it has been a while since my last update and you have been waiting for the next chapter, you might want to leave a comment or dm me. Chances are, I've simply forgotten to finish the chapter and I need to upload it.

Thanks for the views and votes, lovelies. Please keep leaving comments... I love reading them all. <3)