"here we go again, asking where i've been."
Suspicious Minds by Elvis Presley
(constance's p.o.v)
"now sherlock, about this case of yours, what is it exactly?" i ask, curiosity shadowing over me while i look at the board in his study, which he told me not to go into, but i just couldn't resist.
"constance, not to be rude, but why are you still here? i don't need any help with the case and you certainly don't need to know what it is about." he scoffs, moving his papers about to give him a better visual.
a couple seconds later, there is a bang on the study window. i walk over inevitably to have to drag enola in by her feet, in a completely new change of clothing, ironically boys. she mouths quietly 'i need to hide.' i look over to sherlock, who was just as confused as i. he points to the board. i open it up and push her inside right as there is a knock on the door. i drop the board again and sherlock opens the door, revealing a short man.
"ah, lestrade of scotland yard. you remember me, i hope." i walk around the corner with my arms crossed, staring at the man who was standing with his back straight as a pole to make himself taller. sherlock just stares at him, as do i, before he gives a chuckle and continues. "we are looking for you sister. she's caused a bit of trouble. may i?" he walks in the door. "ah. lady tewksbury, wonderful to see you here." he smiles and takes my hand to kiss. i cringe and the feeling and jerk my hand away after he was finished with his greeting. he gasps, looking at one of sherlock's pipes on the table. "is it so? is it?"
"take it, i have others." sherlock says, crossing his arms like i have mine.
"take it? i cant. i can- i cant. perhaps i can." he takes the pipe from its setting place. "and this, the famous fiddle."
"that, he does not have two of." i state from the other side of the room. "perhaps you can explain what you believe enola has done."
"i wish i was at liberty to say, ma'am. do you mind?" he walks over to the study. "oh, your latest case. what's it concerning? is it another brixton strangler? or a periwinkle? don't tell me it's a clerkenwell."
"what evidence do they have against my sister?" sherlock asks, bringing a glass of scotch to his lips.
"perhaps, uh, you tell me yours and i'll tell you mine." he bargains.
i knew enola was freaking out, considering the closeness of lestrade to finding her. a few mere feet in distance, being guarded by a board. i was scared for the girl.
"government case, some missing money." sherlock says grimly. "now you."
"super wants to talk to her." i cringed, thinking of grail always wanted my to die.
"why?" i ask quickly.
"just following orders, mr holmes, lady tewksbury. or may i call you sherlock and constance?" in my mind i was saying no as many times as humanly possible. "graydon. graydon lestrade. my father thought it was distinguished, and it is rather." sherlock made his way to the front room after i did. i gravitated toward the window seat, trying to get away from the annoying man that was lestrade. "well, anyway, should you ever wish to call me that.." i get up and open the door. sherlock points him out. "right. as you were."
sherlock and i walk back into the study. he opens the board, making enola fall out onto her face.
"my mistake. i should have warned you i was opening it." he smirks. he gives her a hand which she swats away immediately.
"no." she sighs as she gets up, dusting herself off.
"dare i ask?" we ask in unison.
"never mind. tell us everything." he says, walking away.
"a government case?"
"no."
she deepens her voice to impersonate lestrade. "perhaps you tell me yours and i'll tell you mine."
"he's a ninny. i need to know what he had on you." the man sighs, recrossing his arms. "money. unaccounted transfers going in and out of government offices. my theory is either bribery, extortion, or blackmail." he explains.
"and what have you found?" she wonders around the room.
"separate filings from five different accounts going via the treasury into one private bank."
"so someone is getting rich from this?"
"yes."
"who?"
"no name. just a number. i visited the bank and inquired the money disappeared, arriving at another bank, and then another, and then another, and another, and another, and another. everyone one of them is hidden using different account numbers. twenty-seven in total."
"ok, so let me get this straight. you are trying to find this girl, sarah chapman, and you, sherlock, are working with bank issues. enola finds work in a match factory for some odd reason and you, my dear friend, have gotten nothing but three things from this." i lay out everything from my mind.
"wait, how did you know about my three things? what are they?" he asks, truly curious about how i had figured it all out in a few seconds on contemplation.
"firstly, the man's a game player. perhaps a genius in mathematics, capable of covering his traces at every turn. secondly, the sources are varied. five banks, south of the river, but no clear link between them. all anonymous. all going into one pocket. and finally, this person knows that you are on to him." i explain, completely out of breath at the end of the explanation.
"since when did you become a detective, constance?" enola asks.
"i've always wanted to be one. i've had many cases but not enough for me to go public. not to mention, this wasn't hard to figure out at all."
"wait, what? how?" she asks sherlock.
"every time i pull a thread, it loosens, vanishes, and reappears somewhere else. he's leading me a merry dance. it's.. it's infuriating."
"so no leads whatsoever." i ask.
"one. a week before the first transfer, there was a break in at the treasury office by a man in a taper crown hat." he says, keeping us focus on the board.
"a taper crown hat? what was taken?" enola asks.
"a document. they won't talk about it. sent ive information presumably. but how it connects to all of this has so eluded me. your turn. i hope the bloods not yours." he walks out of the room.
i walk toward enola, yanking her hands from her like i did this morning.
"enola.."
"i was looking for sarah chapman. her sister employed me. bessie. she worked at lyons match factory by day, and the music hall at night." she explains.
"but that doesn't explain why there is blood on your hands." i scoff.
"she had a lover, whose flat i visited. he'd given her this." she hands him a poetic note.
"28 bell place?"
"whitechapel, yes. and there i found her friend, murdered."
"and who killed her? this poppy fellow?"
"i suspect so. perhaps he kidnapped sarah and her friend discovered it."
sherlock scoffs loudly. "love. what it does to people. how was she killed?"
"a kitchen knife."
"did you touch this weapon?" i ask, entering the front room to avoid the now emptiness of the study.
"no."
"then why did you run?" we ask once again in unison.
"ok constance stop doing that it is freaking me out." he demands, pointing a finger at me.
"no, you stop." i fight back.
"i found more evidence on her. this policeman wanted it. he has this walk-" we cut her off.
"grail." we say together.
"ok stop. i'm serious."
"we have a history." sherlock says under his breath.
"we have a history as well." i say barely loud enough for myself to hear.
"wait, what do you have history with him for?" sherlock asks.
"he asked for my hand in marriage and i turned him down like any decent human would because he is a horrible person." i explain once again.
enola hands sherlock a piece of music that he takes over to his violin. and let's just say, it was terrible.
"it is as bad as the poem. leave it with me." he says, looking at the paper.
"no. it's mine and it's important. grail said she had stolen something and that she was blackmailing them, though, sarah wouldn't do that." she states.
"you don't know this person." i interject. enola turns her perspective toward me.
"i feel i do."
"you came here running from the police, someone is already dead, and you are now a suspect for a murder case. you let your emotions get the better of you. stay here. don't leave. i will look into this. constance please an eye on her." he takes his cane and starts to the door.
"but sarah chapman is my responsibility! no one cares for these girls. i promised her sister." sherlock opens the door for me to exit before him.
"the first mistake a detective makes is to make it about themselves and not the case." he walks out behind me and closes the door.
"she's going to try and find a way out, you do know that, correct?" i ask.
"of course i know that. which is why i want you to watch her, figure out her plan, then we stop her before she does something stupid. can you handle that constance?" he looks down at me, making sure i comply not only with words, but with expressions as well.
"of course. also, you might want to get a nice suit. she had her eye on a ball flyer. we shall go and watch her there if she attends. my family is always invited, so i'll telegram my brother and ask if he told her about it." i say. he shakes his head and walks down the steps, i trail behind him and walk out the door as we go our separate ways.