Did You Miss Me?

Chapter 5: Interrogation and That Little Voice

Sherlock sat at the table across from Shawn Phillips, Jacob's brother. Sherlock's back faced a one way mirror and watching the two from behind the glass was John and Lestrade.

"So," Sherlock began, turning on the recording, "I assume someone has already asked you some questions."

"Yes." The man said simply. Sherlock's eyes flicked over the man, picking out little details and drawing conclusions from them. 

The short yellow hair on the man's sleeve that stood out against the navy blue sweater told the consulting detective that Shawn had a dog. The slight double chin combined with the orange crumbs under his nails said eating problem, but the Fitbit on his wrist said that he was trying to lose weight. When Shawn had walked in, Sherlock could see that his wallet and phone had worn down the pockets of his jeans. He seemed to care about his appearance based on the hairless ears and neatly folded sweater (the creases were perfectly straight despite Shawn wearing the sweater). Because of this, Sherlock deduced that he didn't have lots of money. The tremble in the man's hands screamed nervousness but one could never be quite sure as trembling could be caused by any number of things, but he also decided that the man dabbled in painting --small spots of faded color were visible on the soles of his shoes-- so he most likely had developed a steady hand, but now, under interrogation, his hands shook. Nervousness. 

"Why are you nervous, Shawn?" Sherlock asked as he folded his hands as if in prayer and held them near his face.

"I'm not sure, sir. I guess it's because I don't want you to think I did something I didn't do...sir."

"No need for 'sir', Sherlock will do."

Shawn's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Imperceptibly for a normal human, but Sherlock Holmes was not a normal human.

"Alright, Sherlock" He said, testing the name. There was a caution to his voice that wasn't there before.  Everyone had heard the tales of the famed Sherlock Holmes, master detective and sleuth. 

"What can you tell me about your girlfriend?"

"Maria?"

"Do you have another girlfriend that I am unaware of?"

"Um, no. I mean, what do you want to know about her? She works as a janitor in that government building down the street from here. Ummm, she likes dogs. She wants to be an artist."

"Does she have any debts. Do you?"

"I have credit card debts, uni debts, and some to some friends. Maria doesn't though. But she's like that. She always does everything on time, doesn't procrastinate, likes to get stuff done."

Lestrade spoke to Watson, "What angle is he trying to play you think?"

John only shook his head in reply, "No idea whatsoever."

"Glad we are on the same page then."

Opening and closing his fist, Sherlock began another round of questioning. "If you were to ask her to do something for you. Important or not, do you think she would? Or would she ask why?"

"I...I suppose she wouldn't ask." Shawn said after  brief consideration. "Yeah, she probably would just do it. But its not like she's my slave or anything, mind you. She's just like that. Nice and considerate and stuff.

Maybe I'm the one behind all of this. Sherlock closed his fist as the sing song voice returned inside his head. 

Shut up. 

Oh cooome on. Don't you miss me. Admit it.

Shut up!

You really are boring. The voice sighed, disappointed. I really expected you to be more interesting. Did I really not have an impact on you? Tisk, tisk. Well. I suppose that is to be expected. What is a hero without his enemy after all?

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

"What the hell is he doing?" Lestrade hissed at John, his eyes still fixed on Sherlock who was now standing.

"Oh my god. Not agian." John looked frightened and angry at the same time. Not unlike a dog after you kick it down. After a beat, John ran out of the little dark room and rushed to Sherlock's side and lead him out into the hallway.

"Are you ok?"

Sherlock looked at him with an expression that scared John. It was one he'd never seen on Sherlock's face but once before. 

Fear.

"He's here." Sherlock said, clutching his head and pacing in circles. "I can't get him out. He won't shut up."

Why would you want to get rid of me? Without me you are nothing but a junkie with a sharp eye.

"SHUT UP!" 

John could do nothing but stand there. He had no idea how to help. "Sherlock," He said softly, "look at me. He's gone."

"No he's not, John. You don't understand. He's alive."

"Yes, in your head he is but--"

"Not like that, I mean he is living and breathing. He must be. This must all connect back to him. Don't you see?"

"No. But that doesn't matter anyway. Come back to the present. Please. Is he standing right here? No. So you don't have to pay attention to him for the moment." 

"It's not that simple."

John sighed, not knowing what to do.

Stopping suddenly, Sherlock held his hands out in thought. 

"What is it?" John asked.

"Oh, he is smart. Very smart."

"Who is?"

Sherlock turned to John to give him a grin and say, "Moriarty," before throwing walking right back into the interrogation room.