It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

79 - Doubt Roots Itself

Having settled slightly, John sat in his chair as Sherlock took his place in his own, Elizabeth pulling out the wooden seat from the living room table to pull it up next to Sherlock's too. They explained the harrowing events that had occurred in the army doctor's absence, gaining pained looks from him. John could only wish he had been here - perhaps then less would have happened.

"So are we or aren't we looking for the Forty Elephants now?" John inquired.

Sherlock said, "We are."

Simultaneously, Elizabeth had said, "We aren't."

The couple shared a look with each other, both confused with each other's answers. Sherlock's gut told him something was wrong, just as it had yesterday when he noticed that microexpression of her eyes indicating deception.

"They're dangerous." Elizabeth justified, "They were thinking about killing me and after what happened to you last time - "

"Danger hasn't stopped me before."

"It should've." John muttered.

Sharing a look with both his partner and best friend, he clarified, "The police are continuing the investigation for now. We will continue our own investigation but discreetly. We need to pinpoint their base of operations. Organised crime groups almost always have a base. For the Sandborns it was their club, The Sands. They have to have a cover or else how are women always ending up with a suitable alibi or insufficient evidence forcing the police to release them?"

"No, yeah, you have a point." John nodded, "But Elizabeth has a point too. How are you going to investigate discreetly when clearly they have made it known that they know you are looking into them?"

"By not investigating."

"What?" Both John and Elizabeth spoke together.

"My homeless network. They'll investigate. I've already told them to keep an eye out in the areas Lestrade and I discussed yesterday. I'll still get information needed to investigate without going out to investigate myself."

It took everything in her power for Elizabeth not to break. The thief knew the detective wasn't stupid and knew that he would find out sooner or later...perhaps she should just tell him? But this little voice in her head insisted that if she told him, he would reassure her that she didn't need to prove herself anymore when she knew very well that it wasn't okay and she truly did. People still doubted her, still judged her on her past and those people had the power to make her disappear.

Unknowingly to her, Sherlock analysed her reaction as she stared at the floor. Seeing the little worry in her expression made him question her loyalties but he knew, deep down, that that worry was for him, of the risk of losing him. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself.

"Just...make sure your network are careful then, yeah?" John nodded.

"They do good work. They'll be fine. They're just thieves."

"That don't mind killing." Elizabeth added, meeting his gaze.

Sherlock looked at her intently, attentively, his gaze boring into her soul, searching. And that's when she saw that little glimmer of doubt in his eyes.

Nausea dangerously built up in her, bile hitting the back of her throat, her mouth hypersalivating as that uncomfortable pit sat in her stomach. That look crushed her.

Why didn't she just tell him?

Because she knew Sherlock would want to interfere and we all knew how well that worked out last time. Resolving herself, she silently decided that it was for the best, best for Sherlock to not know her plans. All the best to keep him safe was the new reasoning for her decision to not spill her hidden truth.