The Detective versus The Criminal

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Sherlock and John trailed in after Moriarty, each wondering if they’d see the outside world again. The door closed and automatically latched behind them.

“Sorry about the mess,” Moriarty apologized as he flipped on the hall light. The orange light lit up the entry, revealing an ape’s face peeking out from one of the nearby rooms. “Ah, there’s my chap. You two have a seat in there, I’ll join shortly.” Moriarty passed a hand over the ape’s head and trotted up a flight of stairs, disappearing with a flamboyant kick of the heels.

“What do we do now?” John asked, looking at the low ceilings and strange paintings on the wall. “Sherlock?”

“I’m trying to think, John!” Sherlock raked his fingers through his hair and wandered the room. His eyes darted to every object and his lips moved rapidly in broken deductions. “John, is it just me or does this look like just a room? There’s got to be something…there’s always something!”

John went over to a low mantel and curiously observed a set of wooden figurines. If he had been Sherlock, he would’ve noticed that the figures were knobs that turned and unlocked the drawers installed underneath the mantel. “You think we ought to stay put or explore while he’s gone?”

“We should stay where we are in case he’s a got a lot hidden somewhere that’ll jump out and kill us. One thing I know is that duchess is here.”

“How did you know that?” John’s voice brightened and he came up beside Sherlock with a listening ear.

“I don’t. Moriarty just told me.”

Cocking his head, the doctor said slowly, “So, there’s no evidence around here that says she’s in here? You just believe because you were told?”

Sherlock smacked his other hand with a balled fist and spun around on his toes. If he hadn’t been in someone else’s house, he would’ve gone into a roaring fit. Spinning once more and landing in front of John, he hissed, “Of course there’s evidence! But I don’t know where to start!”

“Calm down, Sherlock. It’s this drug you’ve been given. You aren’t going to take the second, are you?”

“Obviously not. I’ll fight him tooth and nail before he sticks me with it.” Sherlock placed his folded hands vertically against his face. He paced the room back and forth, his coat kicking up behind him dramatically. Stopping, he raised an eyebrow and motioned John to join him.

“What?”

Nodding his head towards the hall opposite of the one they had first entered, Sherlock whispered speedily, “Look at the corner over there. Do you see it?”

Shaking his head, John replied with an unsure, “No.”

“All right, there’s a thread on the edge. Looks strikingly much like Alana’s dress, hmmm?”

“Wait, how did you know what color dress she was in? You came in after she was abducted.” John went over to the corner and plucked the lone thread. He held up against the light and examined it.

“Well, obviously I had time to follow you in and I caught a glimpse of her. So, she must’ve been dragged down that hall.”

John pushed himself off his knees and began making his way down the carpeted hallway. Sherlock took a large leap and caught him by his coat collar. Pulling him back, he said firmly, “Moriarty is a clever man. If he didn’t want us to know where she was, he wouldn’t have left a bright purple piece of thread against a white wall and floor. Obviously he wants us to go down there.”

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