It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

20 - I'm In My Nighty!

"He was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument which then magically disappeared along with the killer. That's got to be an eight, at least."

At this point, Detective Carter spoke up, "You've got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver."

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, "Oh, forget him. He's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?"

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder with a nervous smile, "He doesn't mean that, Phil." She said quietly to him and discreetly hit Sherlock for his rude comment.

"Ow!"

"Be nice." Elizabeth hissed as the two glared at one another.

Carter protested at the same time, "I think he's a suspect."

Sherlock leaned forwards, frustrated, as though he would appear on the other end of the feed to make his point, "Pass me over."

Elizabeth fought a smile as John threatened, "All right, but there is a mute button and I will use it." He held laptop in a way that it faced the other detective.

"Up a bit! I'm not talking from down here!"

"Okay, take it, just take it." John shook his, handing the laptop over to Carter.

Silently inhaling, Sherlock prepared himself to regurgitate the information he had been considering, "Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?!"

"He's trying to be clever. It's over-confidence!" Carter retorted.

This statement visibly irked the detective and Elizabeth and John both silently prepared themseleves for a rant from Sherlock, "Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve pattern of an internet porn addict and the breathing of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy - and you think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?"

With huge eyes, Elizabeth looked back to Phil quickly, "I'm sure he's joking. He's an arse hole like that." A small smile crossed her face in reassurance but clearly the 'be nice' statement didn't stick with Sherlock for long.

Phil simply looked stunned by his deductions and was hardly paying attention to the thief.

Even Sherlock turned around to Phil, "Yes. Don't worry. This is just stupid." He waved his hand dismissively.

"What did you say? Heart what?" Phil nervously interrogated.

But Sherlock was already looking back at his laptop and continuing his conversation with Carter, "Go to the stream."

"What's in the stream?"

"Go and see."

Mrs Hudson called up the stairs, "Sherlock! Elizabeth! You weren't answering your doorbell."

"Shoot - " Elizabeth began as she remembered that there had been ringing and she was about to race downstairs when two men walked into the flat as though they owned the place.

The one man said, "His room's through the back. Get him some clothes. Her clothes should be there too."

The next question came from both the thief and detective simultaneously, "Who the hell are you?"

"Sorry, Mr Holmes, Miss Parrish. You're coming with us."

"Sherlock? Elizabeth? What's going on? What's happening?" John tried to ask through the video feed but was permanently muted when the man's hand slammed the laptop shut before instructing the detective again.

The man who had fetched their clothes came back promptly with two similar looking piles and set them down on top of the laptop that John had been talking to them through only moments ago.

"Please, Mr Holmes. Where you're going you'll want to be dressed."

There was a brief silence as Sherlock seemed to scan the two men. His lips turned up at the edge as his deductions brought him to a conclusion. And what a conclusion it was. Elizabeth was moving to get her clothes when he answered.

"Oh, I know exactly where we're going." Shooting up off the chair, his hand appeared from the abyss bedsheets and seized Elizabeth's before she could pick up her pile, "We'll be waiting in the car outside. Come along, Elizabeth." And with that he began dragging her out of the flat and down the stairs.

"Uh, Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"Clothes!" She hissed, "I'm in my nighty!"

"It's fine. You're more dressed than I am."

"It's not fine! And what about Phil?"

"Seeing as this is a unique situation, he'll probably be sent away by the two bodyguards or by Mrs Hudson and I presume he'll go home and go on his laptop to destress by - "

"Okay you can stop there." She nodded and silenced him as they went out into the street.

Opening the black car door, he then queried, "Did he ask you out?"

"Yes." Came her answer as she got in, faster than a flash.

"Knew he would." He shut the door as he got in.

"Of course you did." She paused, "So do you actually know where we're going?"

Sherlock looked over to her with a cheesy grin, "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."