The Trouble With Sentiment

Chapter Twelve

"I'll believe it when I see it," Sherlock said, stepping forward. "Now get out of my way."

"No." John widened his stance, planting his feet firmly against the carpet. "I don't understand why you don't just ask her. You spotted her lie before, you can do it again."

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "That won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't tell when she's lying," he snapped. "I already told you the only reason I caught her lie about the bruises was because of the missing freckles on her arms. I wouldn't have known otherwise."

John's mouth fell open. "But you said everyone has a tell."

"They do, unless it's been trained out of them. Perhaps she learned the trick as part of her defense lessons." His voice hardened. "If she's been having them at all." The perfectly smooth lie she'd told John denying knowledge of the exploded pillow incident had set off alarm bells in Sherlock's head. If he hadn't already known what had occurred, he would have believed her innocent. The two lies, coupled with this latest discovery about her identity had him questioning everything she'd ever told him. "I need answers."

For a moment, an internal battle warred across John's face, but then he nodded. "Fine, but I'm coming with you."

"No," Sherlock said, shaking his head. "I've only got one uniform." He stepped around John and opened the door.

"Sherlock, wait. Listen to me."

The pleading note in John's tone made Sherlock pause, but he didn't turn. "What?"

"Look, I know you're upset. I am too. But please try to remember, Vivian isn't our enemy. She's our friend."

Friend.

The word reverberated against the ice in Sherlock's chest causing it to shift and shudder and threaten to crack. His hand tightened convulsively on the doorknob. "I don't know what she is."

Silence reigned, then a weary sigh filled the flat. "Just promise me you won't burn any bridges, alright?"

Sherlock continued forward without replying. He wasn't about to make such a promise. Vivian was the one who'd lit the match, not him.

Outside, the brisk air cut through his thin uniform. He welcomed the chill, encouraged it to feed the cold inside him. With every step, the ice in his chest expanded, sending a soothing numbness through his body. His clenched hands relaxed, his shoulders lowered, and his stride lengthened. All that was left was cool, icy purpose.

***

Sherlock strode into Cubic Systems, gaze sweeping across the modern, muted decor. A news article he'd read on the cab ride over had labeled the company as one of London's rising stars. Cubic Systems provided innovative software solutions for businesses. Their most recent project was rumored to involve a new type of networking. Gossip on various forums theorized it was going to be a fusion of Twitter, Facebook, and crowd funding, allowing entrepreneurs to connect with the everyday Joe for investment opportunities.

"Welcome to Cubic Systems. How may I help you?" asked a perky brunette.

Sherlock pasted a smile onto his face, making sure to crinkle his eyes. He tapped the name badge clipped to the front of his shirt. "Scott Sigerson with a fire alarm inspection, Miss."

Commercial buildings like this one required weekly inspections. He'd have no trouble gaining access.

A small line formed between her brows. "I thought Danny came by yesterday. Is there a problem?"