You See But Do Not Observe

IDENTITY

CHAPTER TWO : IDENTITY

Serena followed the old woman up the stairs. She was jabbering away.

"Sherlock is a bit odd, that's for sure. But don't mind him, dear, he's sweet." Mrs. Hudson said.

She walked in through the open door without bothering to knock. A second later, Serena heard the gunshot. She ducked instinctively, and Mrs. Hudson let out a small gasp of surprise.

"Sherlock! That is no way to behave with guests." She said, her voice breathy.

"I wasn't aware we had guests." The man reclining on the couch said. In his hand was the handgun. He craned his neck around and met Serena's eyes.

He was rather attractive. All the newspaper's pictures didn't do those cheekbones and pale blue-green eyes justice. Serena might have stared a moment too long, but she didn't mind that he knew.

"This young woman is looking for your help, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said, and Serena stepped forward.

"A case. Brilliant!" A man said, stepping around the corner. This must be John, Serena thought.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Please leave." Sherlock said, sitting up slightly. He still held the gun. Serena watched it warily.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Serena said to her as she walked away.

John closed the door behind her, and Serena flicked her gaze to it briefly. She still felt the flicker of fear whenever she saw a closed door. At least she could control it.

"Please, take a seat." John gestured to a wooden chair stationed in front of the couch. He took a seat next to Sherlock, who grudgingly sat up. He looked at Serena intently, a hint of confusion in his eyes, and she got the feeling he was monitoring her, like an insect trapped on a card.

Don't even start to think about being trapped, she ordered herself.

Sherlock still looked slightly perplexed. She hadn't expected to ever see that emotion on his face.

"If you are trying to figure out who I am, I'll just tell you. You saw me on the street earlier today." Serena said calmly.

"The girl on the corner, of course. Well, I'm sorry if I offended you..." Sherlock said.

"You didn't offend me." Serena interrupted with a smile. "I had just moved to London. I hope my case isn't quite as boring as you believe I am."

John's eyes shot from point to point on Serena's face. She knew he was worried she actually was offended.

"I don't believe we know your name. I'm assuming you know ours." Sherlock said.

"My name is Amanda." Serena said calmly.

"Wrong!" Sherlock said, turning up toward the ceiling.

"Sherlock!" John said. "Apologize."

"I think I know what my own name is." Serena said, her fear making her defensive.

"Amanda isn't your name! You came to us because we're the best. You think I can't tell when someone's lying." Sherlock said, and Serena sighed.

"Sherlock..." John said warningly.

"No, it's fine. You're right." Serena admitted. "My real name is Serena. Serena Gambles."

Sherlock looked at John as if to say I told you so. John didn't look amused.

"How did you know?" Serena asked.

"Simple. When you said your name, your foot shifted very slightly inward. A very defensive position." Sherlock said.

"Impressive. What else can you see about me?" Serena asked.

Sherlock looked at her in silence for a second more. "You moved to London about a month ago, you don't smoke, but you drink on occasion, you are single, you are cleithrophobic, I believe, which quite ironic because you are a psychologist specializing in treating phobias, and I admit, you are fairly good at covering up who you are. Better than most ordinary people."

"An important skill to have." Serena said. "I understand the moving, the drinking, and the job as a psychologist, but how did you know the rest?"

Sherlock sighed. "I know you are cleithrophobic because when John shut the door, your eyes went straight to the lock. That is a usual symptom of cleithrophobia."

"What is cleithrophobia?" John asked.

"The fear of being trapped." Serena said.

"I thought that was claustrophobia." John said.

"Claustrophobia is the fear of small spaces, or not having an escape. Cleithrophobia is being trapped at all. Cleithrophobics, when it is most severe, could be in a massive room, and if they couldn't get out it would still be a trigger." Serena explained.

"Trauma or childhood aversion?" Sherlock asked.

"Childhood aversion." Serena said. She kept her voice flat and body completely still. Sherlock didn't give her a second-glance, and she resisted the urge to sigh.

"And being single?" Serena asked.

"You were attracted to me the moment you walked in." Sherlock said, and Serena laughed.

"That doesn't mean I'm single." Serena said.

"Yes, it does." Sherlock said.

"You can be attracted to someone and still be single. If not, everyone would be searching for Prince Charming." Serena said.

Sherlock looked away from her face. She figured that him not speaking was as close as she would get to him giving up.

John cleared his throat. "And, so, about your case." He prompted.

"I read your blog. It's fantastic. I have a problem, and I think you two can help me." Serena said.

She took out two squares of paper from her bag and handed them to John. "These two people were found dead within the last week. They were both my patients. They had severe phobias. He had arachnophobia, she had ophidiophobia. They both committed suicide. Only I don't think they did."

John's head turned to Sherlock, who leaned back and closed his eyes.

"There's more. They both committed suicide with a gun, the same gun. And they were both found in flats that weren't theirs and that were stripped of every thing. No furniture, wallpaper, radiators, nothing."

Sherlock opened his eyes again. "Have you gone to the police?"

"Of course. They think that it's suicide, but there are just too many similarities for it to be simple." Serena said, and Sherlock sat up.

"Scotland Yard is made up of idiots. It's a wonder we're not all dead." She added, and the corner of his mouth twitched. John looked at Serena as if he knew exactly what she was doing, baiting Sherlock with the police's incompetence. He probably did.

"Are you going to help me, or not?" Serena asked finally.

"Murder, fear, a possible serial killer! Yes." Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

"Come on John. We're going to Scotland Yard." He stood up and grabbed a scarf lying discarded on the floor.

John stood up and stared at Serena with gratitude. She couldn't imagine why until she saw the dozen bullet holes in the wall. Sherlock walked toward the door and opened it.

"Wait!" Serena said. She walked over to Sherlock, meeting his eyes. Strange. She had thought they were blue-green, but now they were a greenish-gray. "I want to be involved. That includes coming with you two to solve the case."

Sherlock seemed to absorb her request one word at a time. "Do you know how to shoot a gun?" He finally asked.

"Yes."

He turned and hurried down the stairs. "Welcome aboard!" He tossed over his shoulder, and Serena grinned as she followed him down to the street.