The Art Of Deduction (A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

53. A Fraud

Some time later Sherlock stands twitching his fingers fretfully while an ambulance crew wheels Sulejmani's body away.

"That ... it's him. It's him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us." Says Elisabeth.

"He died because I shook his hand." Says Sherlock.

"What d'you mean?" Asks Elisabeth.

"He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?"

He storms off. Elisabeth follows.

221B.
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Sherlock walks rapidly into the living room, pulling off his scarf and then his coat as he goes across to the laptop on the dining table.

"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive."

He sits down at the table while Elisabeth goes over to the window near him and looks out.

"I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me ..."

"... the others kill them before they can get it." Says Elisabeth.

Sherlock grunts in agreement and types rapidly on the laptop, navigating away from the website for St Aldate's School and calling up a list of local Wi-Fi networks. There are five of them and he checks their signal strength and the names of the networks, each of which is in a foreign language. At this point John is just coming up the stairs.

"All of the attention is focussed on me. There's a surveillance web closing in on us right now."

"So what have you got that's so important?"

Sherlock gazes into the distance and thinks for a moment, then runs his finger along the table beside the computer before lifting it and looking at his fingertip.

"We need to ask about the dusting."

Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson has been dragged upstairs in her nightdress and dressing gown. Sherlock is hurrying around the room checking for dust on all the furniture.

"Precise details: in the last week, what's been cleaned?" Asks Sherlock.

"Well, Tuesday I did your lino ..." Starts Mrs Hudson.

"No, in here, this room. This is where we'll find it – any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust." Says Sherlock.

He lifts his hand from the latest piece of furniture that he has been running his finger along, and twirls his finger dramatically in the air.

"Dust is eloquent."

Mrs Hudson looks over her shoulder at John.

"What's he on about?" Asks Mrs Hudson.

John shakes his head and mumbles. By now Sherlock is climbing on the furniture to look more closely at the top shelves of the bookcase to the left of the fireplace.

"Cameras. Moriarty's watching." Says Elisabeth.

"What? Cameras? Here? I'm in my nightie!" Says Mrs Hudson, Cringing.

"Seriously Mrs Hudson? I just told you the most dangerous criminal in England is spying on us, And you're worried about being in your Nightie!?"

The doorbell has just rung and Mrs Hudson hurries out of the room, John following her. Sherlock has climbed down and now checks in the eye sockets of the skull on the mantelpiece before climbing onto small tables on the other side of the fireplace to look at the bookshelves there. Checking the books on the top shelf, he apparently realises that the one on the far right has more movement around it than it ought and he pushes it deeper into the shelf, revealing a camera stuck to the side of the bookshelf. As he reaches up to remove it, Greg comes into the room followed by John.

"No, Inspector." Says Sherlock.

"What?" Asks Lestrade.

"The answer's no."

"But you haven't heard the question!"

"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."

He walks closer. Greg pulls in a breath.

"Sherlock ..."

"The scream?"

"Yeah."

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're going to have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you? Not once it's made a home ..."

He reaches forward and briefly places his index fingertip on Greg's forehead between his eyes

"... there."

"Will you come?"

"One photograph – that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch."

Picking up the camera again, he looks at it for a moment, then raises his eyes to Greg's.

"It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play. Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan."

Sighing and exchanging a brief look with John, Greg turns and heads off down the stairs. John watches him go then turns back towards Sherlock who has now linked the camera into the computer so that he can pull up the live footage on the computer screen. Downstairs, Greg walks along the hallway and glowers at Sally who is waiting at the front door. He walks past her and out into the street. She turns and watches him unhappily, then follows. Upstairs, Elisabeth has gone over to the right-hand window and looks out at the car parked outside as Greg and Sally go over to it and get in, Greg glancing up towards the window momentarily. As the car starts, Sherlock briefly looks at Elisabeth.

"They'll be deciding." Says Sherlock.

"Deciding?" Asks Elisabeth.

"Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me."

"You think?"

"Standard procedure."

"Should have gone with him. People'll think ..."

"I don't care what people think."

"You'd care if they thought you were stupid, or wrong."

"No, that would just make them stupid or wrong."

Angrily, Elisabeth turns towards him.

"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you're ..."

She breaks off as Sherlock lifts his head to look at her. They lock eyes for a long moment.

"That I am what?"

"A fraud."

Sherlock rolls his eyes and sits back in the seat.

"You're worried they're right."

"What?"

"You're worried they're right about me."

"No."

"That's why you're so upset. You can't even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well."

"No I'm not."

Sherlock leans forward.

"Moriarty is playing with your mind too."

Furious, he slams his hand onto the table.

"Can't you see what's going on?"

Elisabeth looks at him for a few seconds, then looks out of the window again.

"No, I know you're for real."

"A hundred percent?"

"Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time."

Sherlock locks eyes with her again, then his mouth twitches with the trace of a smile. Elisabeth looks away once more.