Chapter Fifteen: Proper Genius Too

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Sherlock looked at the bottle but didn't react in any way

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Sherlock looked at the bottle but didn't react in any way.

Lorenzo , on the other hand, was looking straight at him with no trace of emotion on his face.

"Ooh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do you? But you're about to. I just have to do this." reaching into his right pocket, he took out three identical bottles containing identical capsules and put it onto the table beside the first bottle, "You weren't expecting that, were you?"

Lorenzo shrugged, "I did. There are no limits in ways to poison someone but it was easy to figure out you would do it with capsules... I mean a dying man who is well known with pills... taking them every day for months in hope that he would get better but it never worked... now he uses them to take the lives of others... kind of poetic and lame if you ask me." He said smugly, looking at Jeff whilst raising his eyebrow sarcastically.

There was a moment of silence, Sherlock nodded at his words and Jeff only narrowed his eyes at him, he then smiled, "You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius. The Science of Deduction." he chuckled.

"Now that is proper thinking. Between you two and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think?" Jeff looked down angrily, "Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?" he looked up again into Lorenzo's eyes.

Sherlock looked at him for a long moment, narrowing his eyes, then made a realization; he spoke with his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius too."

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man drivin' a cab." Jeff replied.

Lorenzo lifted his hand and pointed at the bottles, "Let me guess, good bottle and bad bottle, I take one and you take the other... either I happen to take the good pill and I live or I take the bad pill and I die." he sighed dramatically just like Sherlock did earlier and he turned at him, "Boring." Lorenzo sang creepily.

The taxi driver clenched his hands, "And you happen to know which one is the good bottle? You know how to win the game?" he asked getting frustrated.

"It's chance." Sherlock corrected him.

Jeff looked at him amused, "I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr. 'olmes, it's chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this... this... is the move." with his hands Jeff pushed two bottles across the table towards Sherlock and Lorenzo.

He licked his top lip as he pulled his hand back and left the other two bottles to himself, "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one." he told them.

"You ready yet, Mr. 'olmes? Lorenzo? Ready to play?" The serial killer asked.

"Play what? It's a fifty-fifty chance." Sherlock told him again.

The serial killer shook his head, "You're not playin' the numbers, you're playin' me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?" He said yet again to the older Holmes.

"Still just chance." Sherlock said yet again, getting annoyed at the man sat in front of him and Lorenzo.

"Four people in a row?" Jeff asked rhetorically, "It's not just chance." He hissed, "It's genius. I know 'ow people think."

Sherlock and Lorenzo rolled their eyes, "I know 'ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my 'ead. Everyone's so stupid - even you." Lorenzo's gaze sharpened, "Or maybe God just loves me."

Sherlock straightened up and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table, "Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie. So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" he let out a dry chuckle, "There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no-one to tell you."

Jeff tried not to fidget under Sherlock's gaze, "But there's a photograph of children. The children's mother has been cut out of the picture. If she'd died, she'd still be there. The photograph's old but the frame's new. You think of your children but you don't get to see them." Sherlock continued.

Jeff's gaze moved away from Sherlock and for the first time there's a hint of pain in his eyes.

"Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts." Sherlock extended his index finger, "Ah, but there's more."

Jeff lifted his gaze back to Sherlock as he pointed his index fingers towards him, "Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you're wearing's at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?"

Jeff had got control of himself again and his expression said nothing as he gazed back at Sherlock, "Ahh. Three years ago - is that when they told you?" Sherlock said.

"Told me what?" Jeff asked looking straight at Sherlock.


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