Breaking Point

Chapter 2:The Businesswoman and the Bipolar

Sherlock and John went to work. Sherlock seemed to be all over the place, checking every nook and cranny he could. John went to work with the body, and Lestraud, Donovan and Anderson just stood in silence.

“So, what is it now, Freak?” Donovan asked. Anderson chuckled.

“Hey, Anderson? How’s your wife feel about you and Donovan? Has she been able to figure it out yet?” Sherlock asked, not taking his eyes off a small slip of paper.

“W-Whatever you’re implying-”

“Shut up, Anderson.” John snapped. Sherlock nodded at him.

“Good man. What have you got on the body?”

“One gunshot wound to the chest,” John said, getting up from his kneeling to stand next to Sherlock. “That’s it.”

“No. No, there has to be more. One gunshot wound? That isn’t enough. Otherwise, why would I be here. Gunshot, gunshot wound...”

“Suicide,” Lestraud murmured. The detective heard.

“Suicide?”

“Top guess?”

“Wrong. Dead wrong. You would not believe how wrong you are. Suicide. Now lets see. There isn’t any gunshot residue on his shirt, so it wasn’t close range, like most suicides.”

“Homicide.”

“Shut up and let me work! No, the apartment was locked. No sign of a break in. No cracked windows. Even the door is too heavy to break open. No, it wasn’t a suicide. He was gassed.”

All of a sudden, Sherlock’s phone rang, and he tensed. So did John.

Speakerphone. The blogger mouthed to his flatmate. Sherlock set it and answered. “Hello?”

“Hello. This is Tresa. I just wanted to call, see how John was. Ya know. He seems so nice, that blogger of yours. Hi John!” She giggled. “And hello Lestraud, Anderson and Donovan. How is everyone? Having fun with the murder?” She seemed cocky, happy even.

“How do you know that you’re on speaker? Or who’s here?” John asked. Sherlock glared at him.

“Lucky guess,” Another voice came in. This one was equally cocky, but strangely cautious. “It’s pretty cliche, really. Get a phone call from the people who’ve been calling you for a week and threatening your health, when you answer the next one with police agents around, you’re bound to put it on speakerphone. As for your ‘friends’, it’s easy. You’re together all the time. Especially you and Sherlock, John.”

There was a bout of laughing.

“Anywho, this is pretty self-explanatory. Just checking up on all of you. Sorry, Sherlock, but there is no way you can trace this call, in case you were wondering. Disposable phones are a bitch, right? I know it. We have to pay quite a lot for every single one we get... But enough chat! Tell Mrs. Hudson we love her! Stay well, you five.”

There was a click and the hum of an empty line.

“What the hell was that?!” Lestrade asked.

“None of your business. John, you need to go. Get back to the flat. Keep your gun on you and loaded. Make sure no one talks to you or comes close. Don’t take a cab.” John nodded, dashing through the door.

“Sherlock?”

“What, Lestrade? I’m busy.” Sherlock growled, looking out a window.

“What’s going on?” Donovan asked.