Even after Lily had gone, Sherlock found himself still thinking about that créme brûlée.
Well, that, and what she'd said in the hall.
He'd never really seen her be teasing before — not like that — and for a moment he thought she wasn't kidding, but he could ultimately tell by the amused glint the light her in eyes took on. He was proud of himself for noticing, having taken the time since Eurus to try notice things like that about people. Lily is so expressive, it's easier than with anybody else —besides Rosie, who always says what she's thinking.
He'd tried teasing Lily back, and he liked the tone of the conversation, but of course he messed it up.
When he said she was always childish, she'd frowned. And he'd panicked, the last he'd wanted to do being offend her, but he knew what he meant and she didn't, so he started rambling, feeling like he wasn't saying anything that made sense at all. His cheeks were burning.
But he'd said something right, because she'd smiled. She seemed a bit embarrassed, too, but then she'd said something back to Sherlock. Those words were in his mind palace, as he'd put them there almost without question. He wanted to remember them, to remember that moment, because of the warmth he felt in his chest, the indescribable gratitude he felt toward her for saying something so... kind. So uplifting.
"And you're... incredibly smart and-and brilliant... and you use it to do a whole lot of good for other people, and I think that's... very kind of you, and very brave."
Those words could last him until Christmas at least.
Lily was — is — genuine. She means what she says. She isn't confusing, she's just honest, and she's generous on top of all that. She meant those words; she saw him in that way. She'd known him over a month already, endured his deducing, watched him blunder his way through some small talk, been on two cases with him — nearly got shot on one — and she still thought that highly of him. It didn't really make sense, when he remembered how he thought of her: a fairy, full of joy, childish in the best and most charming ways, kinder than anyone he's ever known. And she thought highly of him.
The moment his new client was at the door, he wanted to go straight down to her flat and get her, so she could be there from the start. But John was already inviting the woman in, getting her the chair, making small talk.
The woman's name was Miriam Drysdale, and she was there on behalf of her friend, Susan Cushing.
"She got a package earlier — a couple of hours ago," Miriam began, looking between John and Sherlock. She hesitated, then sighed. "Basically, it contained two ears."
"Two ears?" John said.
"Human ears?" Sherlock asked.
Miriam nodded. "That's what they looked like. The box they came in was filled with salt, and they were buried in it. Susan freaked out and called me, so I went over to her house, and she could barely speak two coherent words for a while. She didn't know what to do, and I suggested calling the police, but she wasn't so sure. She said they might not even be real, it could be some prank. She was off her rocker with shock, so it's no surprise. She's never been able to stand blood or anything like that, so this was... well, something else.
"I eventually convinced her to come to you, so you could figure out who sent them and why. I heard about that case you solved a couple weeks back — the Cunningham case. I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask you, and she seemed okay with it, but she wouldn't come herself. She's a mess."
"Where are the ears now?" Sherlock asked.
"They're still at her house."
"In the same box?"
"Yes."
"Give me the address, and we'll follow shortly behind you."
Miriam did as asked then left, and then Sherlock and John went downstairs to drop off Rosie and get Lily. Both of them forgot about her parents coming, though Lily never actually told them what time they'd be there, anyway.
They were there when Sherlock got there, but he never actually saw them. Only Lily and her apologetic expression when she told him she couldn't come.
Sherlock was disappointed, having gotten used to her being on cases, wanting her input and her perceptive questions for suspects and witnesses. It put those words from this morning and the assurance it gave him on shaky ground, despite the fact that she obviously wished she could've gone with him.
So, he called her, "Lil." She'd said that morning that was what her friends called her, and Sherlock just wanted to know that she was his friend. That was all. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe to prove that he was human, that he could make a friend. He so, so wanted to be human, after Eurus. The thought sometimes caused him shame, confusion. But Lily's slowly showing him that being human is not so bad. It's a gift.
She'd grimaced when he said it, said "Lil", and he felt panicked again, and sadness creeped its way in, and he was struck but how readily the emotion came and how readily he recognized it. He still doesn't know why she affects him so, but she does. Despite the fact that by all logic she's perfectly normal and he's only known her a month. It doesn't make sense. Unless Mycroft used his government powers to find the most human girl in the world and place her in his life — either to make him more human or scare him from it. It was doing the former, despite that sudden sadness he felt, how bad it seemed.
And yet, when Lily assured him so sincerely that they were friends, when she'd promised him, his heart seemed to soar. He looks forward to seeing her later and telling her about the case; he'll want her input, especially if this case proves to be a head-scratcher as she'd said.
They reach the house, which is decently sized, though definitely not like the ones they'd been to on their most recent cases. This was of no consequence Sherlock — unless, of course, it had something to do with the answer to the case, though as of right now it's hard to tell.
Inside, Sherlock expects to see a woman unfamiliar to him, which he would know to be Susan Cushing, seeing as it's her house. However, there's only Miriam and the box on the kitchen table. Miriam answers the door, then greets him with a sigh. "Hello. Susan thanks you for coming. She's upstairs, and she won't come down. Like I said, she's a mess; she's really shaken up."
"Well, I suppose I would be too if I got a box of ears," John mutters, following Miriam to the kitchen. Sherlock is behind him, silently refuting John's statement. He's far too used to things much more gory and gruesome than this; he wouldn't be shaken up at all. But Lily — having never been exposed to such a thing, having no conceivable reason to receive such a package, having such a tender heart — would. Though, maybe not as much as before getting threatened with a gun...
Sherlock puts it from his mind in order to examine the package on the table.
It's a standard, small shipping box — nothing remarkable about it at all, aside from the possibility of fingerprints, but it was delivered and so touched by a multitude of people, so that wouldn't result in much. The label on the top has this address and 'S. Cushing' written on it. Inside, it's filled with salt, likely to preserve the ears. They're sitting on top, one turned over and exposing the severed end. The cuts are jagged. Sherlock puts his gloves on, then picks them both up to examine them further. They definitely look (and feel) to be human, but based on color, shape, and size are from two different people, probably one male and one female. They've been drained of blood, and it seems as though someone tried to clean blood off them before putting them in the box.
"Do you have any guesses as to who would do this?" John asks Miriam. "Or why?" Sherlock holds the ears out to John while she answers.
"I mean, it could've been her ex boyfriend. She broke up with him a few months ago because he turned out to be a real piece of work, and he didn't like it at all. Plus, he's a med student."
John shakes his head, looking at the ears. "No, the cuts are too jagged. And no med student would preserve human ears in table salt."
Miriam sighs and sits down, resting her head in her hands. She appears to be thinking for a moment, then bites her lip, saying, "I just wish she would let me go to the police with this." She looks at Sherlock. "Not that you guys aren't great, it's just... these things need to be tested."
"We can test them," Sherlock replies, but her words incite some curiosity. "Why do you think they need to be tested?"
"Well, we need to know if they're really human for one. And if they are... we should know whose they are."
Something in her tone strikes Sherlock, but John beats him to it. "Do you already have some ideas?"
Miriam nods a little, looking sad and worried. "Well, if it's not her ex... Her sister Diane and her fiancé Jared — Diane's fiance, not Susan's — are currently missing. It's been a few days since it was reported by Jared's brother, and it's being looked into, but they haven't found anything yet, even when it seems obvious who the suspect is." Sherlock only raises a brow, and she continues. "Diane's in the process of getting a divorce, and her soon-to-be ex Michael isn't taking it well. No one's seen him in days." She looks towards the stairs, then referring to Susan. "I know that's partly why this has shaken her up so bad; first she breaks up her with her boyfriend, then a few months later her sister and her sister's fiancé go missing, and a few days after this happens?"
Sherlock starts to think that it might not be such a head-scratcher after all. He frowns a little, but reminds himself he still needs to find Michael. That will be the big problem for him to solve — if it really was Michael who did it. There's still a possibility it wasn't.
He grabs the box, the ears resting on top of the salt. "That's all we need for now. We'll get these tested then get back to you. Or Susan."
Miriam nods. "I'll let her know."
John gets her contact information as she walks them to the door, then they go outside to hail a cab home. John looks at the box, which Sherlock is still holding, the severed ears at the top. He grimaces. "You might wanna close that."
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Back at home, John gets Rosie from Mrs. Hudson's while Sherlock goes to fill in his friend.
Shifting the box to his left hand, he knocks on Lily's door with his right. After a minute, she answers with a smile. "Hello, Sherlock. Everything alright?"
He smiles, holding the box out to her. "Depends on what you mean by alright."
Her eyes widen slightly as she looks at the box. "Is that...?"
"The severed ears? Yes."
"Oh, my gosh. Why do you have those?"
"We're taking them to my friend at St. Bart's tomorrow to be tested."
She looks back up at him, her head tilting to the side a bit in confusion. "Like... DNA or...?"
"Well, that, among a few other things, I expect," Sherlock says. "Which reminds me, I'll need DNA from the sister and the fiancé..."
"Of... who?"
Her brows are furrowed, and it's clear she's not following him. Why would she? He's completely getting ahead of himself. "Right, right. I need to start from the beginning."
She steps back, opening the door a bit wider. "Oh, then do you want to come in? I can make some tea or something. I don't have any more creme brûlée or anything, but I think I have some biscuits in my cabinet."
"Tea is fine," Sherlock replies, then stepping inside. As he starts down the stairs, she closes the door and follows him.
Her flat the is same as it was the first time Sherlock saw it — bright colors, everything clean but full, lived-in, little knickknacks on every shelf — except for one detail. There's a man on her couch, sprawled out as he watches TV.
"Where's John?" Lily asks, passing him as she goes to the kitchen, grabbing the kettle off the stove.
"Getting Rosie," Sherlock replies, glancing at the man, who stands.
He's tall — definitely taller than Lily, but a bit shorter than Sherlock — and slightly dressed up, like Lily. He was at dinner with her, so likely a relation. His hair and eyes are the same shade as Lily's, too, the former having the same curl but not length; his is much shorter. Their noses are identical, both turned a bit up at the end, though the bridge of his glasses are resting at the top of his. Clearly, this is her brother, though he didn't inherit the fairy-like quality. In fact, his eyes seem to be studying Sherlock. No nerves, no bell-like laughter, no buoyancy, no plate of cookies. But protectiveness, if only a hint of it. The fairy guard. But what danger is he perceiving?
The fairy in question takes the kettle to the sink, filling it with water. "He knows you're here, right? He and Rosie are welcome to come down."
It takes Sherlock a moment to remember she's talking about John. "Yes, I believe he knows."
He looks at her brother, who looks back at him, though he glances at Lily. She continues making tea, turning the stove on, taking mugs off the rack on the counter. Finally, her brother, coming into the kitchen, asks, "You gonna introduce us, Lil?"
She jumps like she's remembered something. "Oh! Right, yes." She gestures to the man. "Sherlock, this is my brother Liam. Liam, this is Sherlock Holmes."
"Hello," Liam says.
"Hello."
Liam nods to Sherlock's hands. "What's in the box?"
Sherlock glances down at it. "Severed ears."
Liam's mouth opens, but he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't get the chance to. Sherlock's phone rings, causing him to hold the box in one hand again to answer it. "Hello?"
"Where are you?" John asks.
"Lily's. Where else could I go?"
"Isn't she with her parents?"
"Just her brother right now. I'm filling her in on the case like she asked. She said you and Rosie could come down. She's making tea."
John sighs softly. "Be there in a minute."
Sherlock hangs up, putting his phone back in his pocket. "That was John. He and Rosie are coming down." Lily smiles.
The kettle screams then, so she turns to get it, while Liam turns to Sherlock. "So... there really are severed ears in there?"
Sherlock's eyes narrow a bit, cautious and curious. The guard has started to stand down, and he's asking a question he already knows the answer to. "Yes?"
Liam looks at the box, then back to Sherlock. "Can I see?"
"Liam!" Lily exclaims, and Sherlock glimpses the older sister in her, when for the past few minutes — and according Mrs. Hudson's descriptions — it was the other way around.
Liam laughs, the guard finally retiring. "Come on, Lil! Why can you go and solve crimes and almost get shot and I can't even look at ears?"
"Because you weren't asked. Why would you want to look at ears, anyway?"
"I mean, I'm looking at yours right now."
"They're attached to my head!"
There's a knock on the door, so Lily leaves the steaming mugs of tea on the counter and hurries to answer it. While she's gone, Sherlock walks over to Liam and opens the box. Liam grimaces, a touch of his sister in the expression. "Ew. Cool."
Lily and John come chattering down the stairs, Rosie in the former's arms, so Sherlock closes the box and steps back. Rosie sees Liam and starts to laugh, confusing everyone but him and Lily. She sets Rosie in a chair at the island. "Do you remember his name? I know it was terribly boring."
"Seriously?" Liam says.
Rosie laughs again. "Liam."
He nods at her as if it's some formal introduction. "Rosie."
Lily introduces Liam and John, then walks around the island to the counter, grabbing two full mugs. One goes to Liam, the other to John. "Tea is ready. I'll get the sugar out. Rosie, would you like some juice?"
"Yes please."
Lily turns, putting sugar on the island, then grabs juice from the fridge. As she gets a cup from the cabinet, she looks at Sherlock. "You can just put that... preferably at the bottom of the stairs."
He chuckles, then sets the box down where she indicated. When he turns back around, she's standing in front of him, two mugs in hand. With a smile, she holds out the one with a bit more tea, and Sherlock's hand closes around it, brushing her fingers with his. She goes to the island and puts a ridiculous amount of sugar in her own mug, then turns to him and John. "Alright, then. Fill me in."