You Are My Mystery {Sherlock Holmes}

Chapter 7*

After Sherlock messaged me, I quickly made my way to his home. Without knocking on the door, I make my way inside. "What is all of this about?" I ask, walking in on a whole bunch of people.

"Drug bust," a sweet old woman mumbles to me, not even questioning who I am.

"Oh, hello. Who may you be? Sherlock's landlady?"

"Yes, I am," she confirms with a smile. "I'm Mrs. Hudson."

"I'm Rachelle. Mrs. Hudson, it will all be fine," I try reassuring her as I glance up at Sherlock. He looks at me, giving me an up and down before turning back to Lestrade.

"So let's work together. We've found Rachel," Lestrade tells the curly haired man.

"Who is she?" Sherlock questions but I don't doubt he already knew the answer.

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter," Lestrade responds.

"Drug bust? Well, you may need to check my coat for crack," I say jokingly at the officers. They just glance at me before continuing their conversation.

No joking around them then...

"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?" Sherlock wonders as he frowns, thinking to himself.

"Never mind that. We found the case," Anderson beams as he points to the pink suitcase in the living room. "According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research," Sherlock looks at him disparagingly. I laugh at his statement, causing the attention to turn to me.

"And you. Did you have something to do with this? Just when this case started, you show up in London..." Anderson asks.

"No, god no. I'm here to help solve it," I answer plainly, not phased by their tactics.

"Need help from you? Please, Sherlock's the only help we need."

"Anderson..." Sherlock trails off showing a warning. It's odd to see Sherlock standing up for me-- someone he just met.

"As previously stated... I'm here to help," I say with a small hint of anger in my tonage as I hope he doesn't press the issue.

"Well, as previously stated..." He starts speaking to me with a mocking tone, " We have Sherlock. You can leave."

"I will have you know, Mr. Philip Anderson... You don't need to talk to me like that, but then again I shouldn't take any shit from you, because having an affair with Sally Donovan does not show that you are a decent person. How old are you? In your forties and you don't know how to have a good relationship with your wife? Also, you shouldn't tell me to leave when Greg is your boss. You were a member of the forensics team at New Scotland Yard that works under DI . Greg Lestrade, correct?" I say aloud in one big breath while he looks at me with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

"How did you-" He goes to ask me something but I cut his foolish ass off. I turn back to Lestrade.

"You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her," I say, itching at my arm, more than ready to begin. 

"She's dead," Lestrade mumbles as if it were such a bad thing.

"Excellent!" Sherlock and I say in unison.

***

"Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?" Sherlock inquires.

"Please, God, let me live," John says, using some enthusiasm but no creativity.

"Oh, use your imagination!" Sherlock says louder.

"I don't have to," John says. I notice the look of pain in John's face. Being a military man he's seen it all-- he doesn't need to imagine. Sherlock pauses momentarily and blinks a couple of times, shifting his feet apologetically.

"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever," I say aloud, cutting up the silence into little, tiny bits. Then Sherlock starts to pace again.

"She's trying to tell us something," Sherlock mumbles what I was just thinking.

He's not far behind, I'll give him that. 

***

"But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers," Hudson says. I look away from her to everyone else at the flat who is being loud. I notice the look on Sherlock's face. His train of thought has left his mind so now he's stuck with a distraught look on his face.

"Shut up, everybody, shut up! No offense," I add in an attempt to be polite. "Don't move, don't speak, don't even breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting Sherlock and I both off."

"What? My face is?" Anderson shouts.

"That is kind of offensive," John tries to tell me and I can't hold my chuckle back.

"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back," Lestrade demands, and I send a look of thanks to him.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Anderson yells.

"Your back, now, please," Lestrade tells him sternly.

"Come on, think. Quick!" I say to myself. I look over at Sherlock as he does the same. People look at us both, not sure what to do. Sherlock shifts multiple times, making small noises that I find distracting. His clothes rustle against his body and his breathing is almost too loud. Often times he mumbles to himself and I cannot take it anymore.

"Shut up," I mumble before walking out of the room, and into another in hopes I can gain my thought process back.

Must be Sherlock's room.

"What about your taxi?" I hear Mrs. Hudson ask.

"Mrs. Hudson!" I hear Sherlock yell and it makes me lift my head and walk out the door.

"Oh." I smile in delight as I see the same look on Sherlock's face. "Clever one she is," I tell him.

"Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!" Sherlock says. He walks across the room and then turns his back to the others. "She's cleverer than you lot, except for Rachel, and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it."

He's right.

"She planted it on him," I say with a smile before Sherlock and I both start pacing again.

"When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer,"  Sherlock announces.

"But how?" Lestrade asks.

"Ha!" I laugh at Lestrade's stupidity.

Oh, it's so simple.

"Wha...? What do you mean, how?" Sherlock asks and Lestrade shrugs.

"Rachel!" Sherlock shouts. "Don't you see? Rachel!" He keeps talking, hoping the people catch on.

"It's a password to her email," I say walking away.

"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson asks.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her," Sherlock spells it out for him.

Rude.

"Unless he got rid of it," Lestrade says.

"We know he didn't," John finally speaks up.