It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

97 - On The Run

"No charge." He said and began to speed off.

But Sherlock tried to hold onto the cab, as though he could stop it with his own bare hands but of course did this to no avail. Breaking into a sprint, he chased after the car but soon realised he couldn't keep up with the vehicle and stopped, panting. Damn it, he thought, damn it all.

His plan is beginning to fall into place, wouldn't you say?

The detective had listened to Elizabeth say this but had not listened for the car racing up behind him.

"Look out!" A stranger grabbed him from out of the middle of the road and pulled him toward the pavement.

Getting his breath back, Sherlock held the man an arm's length away against the streetlight.

He looked at the man gratefully and offered his hand, "Thank you."

The stranger took it but before they could shake, several shots rang out and had implanted themselves into the chest of the stranger. Sherlock had backed away instantaneously and looked, brow raised, at the man who now lay on the floor, dead. Looking around, he saw no sign of a shooter but did see another cab from out of which John came.

"Sherlock!"

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

A short while later, an ambulance had arrived. Sherlock watched, anxiously tapping his fingers against the palm of his hand, as the man was slid into the back of the ambulance. John paced in front of him.

"That - it’s him. It’s him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He’s a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us."

The detective lowered his nervous hand as he processed this, "He died because I shook his hand."

"What d'you mean?"

"He saved my life but he couldn’t touch me." Sherlock frowned, "Why?"

*  *  *  *  *  *

The two friends raced up the stairs to 221B, shaken and running on adrenaline.

"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn’t come here to kill me - they came to keep me alive." Sherlock took a seat at the desk, opening the laptop as John peeked out of the curtains, "I’ve got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me - "

"The others kill them before they can get it." John finished.

The detective opened the wifi tab, acknowledging all of the hubs, "All of the attention is focused on me. There’s a surveillance web closing in on us right now."

"So what have you got that's so important?"

Sherlock swiped his finger across the desk, peering at it curiously, "We need to ask about the dusting."

*  *  *  *  *  *

Having called Mrs Hudson up to the flat, Sherlock had her stand in the middle of the room as he searched.

"Precise details: in the last week, what's been cleaned?"

Mrs Hudson thought, "Well, Tuesday I did your lino - "

"No, in here, this room. This is where we'll find it - any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust." He turned to face them, dramatically waving his hand, "Dust is eloquent."

"What's he on about?" Mrs Hudson whispered to John.

John shook his head, at a loss for an explanation but helped to search anyway.