Orphan on Baker Street

Fifteenth: Solution

The next day, I wake up to find that Sherlock ran off to the police station without me.

I stand in front of the sink and wash off dishes from last night's dinner and this morning's breakfast. Mrs. Hudson walks in with the laundry.

"Mickey," she says nervously. I turn around to look at her, some hair falling in front of my face. "I sort of shrunk your shirt. I'm really sorry," she says hurriedly, holding out a red shirt to me.

Quickly, I dry off my hands and take the shirt from her. When I hold it up to see the damage, I laugh.

"This is a crop top, Mrs. Hudson," I say lightly. A grin stays plastered on my face as I fold up the shirt and set it back in the basket on the kitchen table.

"A crop top?" She frowns down at the shirt.

I nod and send my hand across my ribs as if I were slicing ham. "It goes down to about here," I explain. Her mouth takes the shape of an "O" as she slowly nods.

"I used to wear stuff like that," she says happily. I follow her into the sitting room with a confused look.

"That was in style?" I ask. We take a seat on the plump, ivory colored sofa with the laundry basket between us.

"Not exactly," she says with the shake of her head. I stare at her and wait for an explanation. After I don't get one, I join her in folding and stacking the clothes.

"I was an exotic dancer," she says quietly after a while. Immediately, I burst into a fit of giggles.

"Seriously? Like on a pole and everything?"

"No, no," she chuckles. "My routines didn't include a pole! In fact, the place I worked at could barely afford a pole." I watch as she holds up the dress she got for John's party. "Do you mind getting some hangers, dear?"

I just nod and walk over to shuttered sliding doors. They roll apart from each other to reveal a washer, dryer and a rod near the ceiling. I take about 6 hangers from the rod and close the doors.

"So, how's your shoulder?" Mrs. Hudson asks as I pass her the hangers.

"It's not hurting much anymore. Yesterday, it surprised me, because it hadn't hurt for about 8 months," I respond, returning to my spot on the couch. She sighs, and I fold some of my tees.

"Have you gotten a gift for John yet?" I ask her.

"Yes! I ordered it online," she tells me with a grin. "It's a tie that's made to look like a stethescope. I'm so excited!"

I give her a grin. "I'm sure he'll love it."

We continue to fold and stack clothes for a while before I hear a door slam.

"Mickey?" a voice booms through the flat. Mrs. Hudson and I exchange a glance before looking over into the kitchen. Sherlock looks around as he walks in.

"Mickey," he repeats with a small smile. "I just solved the case!"

"I'll go pour some tea, and you can tell us all about it," Mrs. Hudson says happily, walking over into the kitchen.

"You solved the case without me?" I ask, trying my best to look hurt. Sherlock takes a seat in an armchair that matches the sofa.

"I'll make it up to you," he says as he sends me a smirk. I smile back.

Mrs. Hudson walks in with a tea set on a tray. She sets it down on the oval shaped coffee table in front of us.

"So, how'd you do it?" I ask, leaning on the arm of the sofa. Sherlock pours himself tea before speaking.

"Well," he pauses to blow at the steam rising from the teacup, "Lestrade showed me the blood reports from each pool, and I compared them to each other. The first one had traces of animal and human blood in the pool. But, they also found matching human blood outlining a boot print just on the edge of the pool. From the picture of the boot print, I figured out that it was a male in his 40s that was about 5'11. There was only the one footprint because he wore bags on his shoes."

Sherlock takes a quick sip from his tea before continuing. "Once he was almost at the pool, he had to take a step backwards - maybe to readjust his grip on the huge container of blood, or maybe because he dropped the body that was on his back; it's probably the latter. But when he stepped forward, his boot came out of the bag. He was too busy to fix his error; the man was carrying a body over his shoulder, a bag of tools, and lugging gallons of blood behind him. At the second scene - whose blood report showed only animal blood - they found no mistakes, which is why I assumed he carried the body to the first scene. I mean, who would leave behind tracks if they were paying attention?" he finishes.

"Wait, so what was the solution? And why the bag of tools?" I ask eagerly.

"He had a bag of tools because there wasn't enough time or room in the bin to drain the farmer's blood at his house. So, he just did it at the pool," he responds. Sherlock stretches his legs out and crosses his ankles. "The solution was Drake Seymour. He had a membership with both pools," he finishes simply.

I knit my brows together and stare at him for a while. Sherlock just sips his tea happily and inspects the room silently from his chair.

"Well, alright," I respond. I take a quick sip of my tea and glare over at the window.