You Are My Mystery {Sherlock Holmes}

Chapter 34

Some time later Sherlock is being released. While he signs for his personal property, I stand beside him leaning back against the desk with my arms folded.

"What did I say? I said, 'Don't get clever'," I snap.

"I can't just turn it on and off like a tap," Sherlock states. Taking the bag of items from the custody officer, he turns to me as they begin to walk away, "Well?"

"Well what?" I question, not being able to deal with him.

"You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish," Sherlock noticed.

"Like you said it would be," I say referring to Jim's defending barrister.

"Moriarty's not mounting any defence," Sherlock mumbles.

***

221B.

Sherlock and I walk into the living room.

"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no-one knows how or why," I state. I sit down in my armchair while Sherlock begins to pace. "All we know is..."

"...he ended up in custody," Sherlock announces. He stops and turns to me. I take a breath.

"Don't do that," I groan.

"Do what?" Sherlock asks, totally oblivious to what I'm gesturing to.

"The look," I say.

"Look?"

"You're doing the look again."

"Well, I can't see it, can I?" He asks with an eye roll. I point to the mirror above the fireplace as if Sherlock's an idiot for not realising it's there. Sherlock turns his head and looks at his reflection.

"It's my face," Sherlock says, still not understanding.

"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a sexy look that says, 'we both know what's really going on here' face," I grumble.

"Well, we do," he says, very confused.

"Yes, so why do you do that face?... It distracts me, you damn twat. Stop," I say moving on, "If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there."

Sherlock starts to pace.

"Somehow this is part of his scheme."

***

Outside the court, I am hurrying along the pavement.

"Not Guilty. They found him Not Guilty. No defence, and Moriarty's walked free," I rush. "Sherlock. Are you listening? He's out. You-you know he'll be coming after us."

***

I walk in. Sherlock has unbuttoned his jacket and sat down in my chair. In a perhaps unconscious mimicking of the man seated opposite him, he too has his cup lifted close to his mouth.

"So how're you going to do it... burn me?"

"Oh, that's the problem – the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? What's the final problem? I did tell you but did you listen?" He takes another sip of tea and then puts the cup down into the saucer. Putting his hand onto his knee, he starts idly drumming his fingers. Sherlock's eyes lower to watch the movement. "How hard do you find it, having to say 'I don't know'?"