"No, that's..." Sherlock trails off. "That's not right. How."
"Sherlock?" I stand up walking towards him.
"Why would she do that? Why?" he continues to question.
"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup, sociopath, I'm seeing it now." Anderson responds from the kitchen.
Sherlock and I both turn and look at Anderson with disgust.
"She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails." Sherlock starts.
"She was dying, and yet she used the last bit of her strength to scratch a SIX letter word into hardwood. That takes effort and causes more pain than she was already in." I finish with a scowl on my face. Sherlock walks over towards the window and begins pacing back and forth trying to think.
"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it." John restates to us as I watch Sherlock pace back and forth trying to list reasons in his head. "Well, maybe he... I don't know, talks to them. Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow. "
I try to comprehend John's words. He could be on to something but it still feels like a huge chunk is missing. I walk back to the small sofa and put my head in my hands. I try to picture being Jennifer. What she was feeling, how she was feeling, I try to understand why she fought instead of just going out as peacefully as possible.
She knew her fate the minute she walked in that house.
I start to feel small tears leave my eyes and I keep my head in my hands, refusing to let them show, knowing it would throw Sherlock off.
"Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?" Sherlock questions.
The room goes quiet as the realization of what he just said hits him and everyone else.
"Not good?"
"Bit not good, yeah." I hear John reply to him.
"Yeah but, if you were dying," I hear Sherlock semi-whisper. "If you'd been murdered, in your very last few seconds, what would you say?"
"Please, God, let me live." I hear John reply.
"Oh! Use your imagination!" Sherlock responds.
"I don't have to." John states.
There is silence again.
"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever."
"Maybe now I'll be happy? The pain can finally end. It's not as cold and dark as I thought. Please let it be quick. I can continue if you like, I have more." I reply lifting my head up, showing my face to the boys and looking at Sherlock.
I watch John and Sherlock finally turn and notice me. I see concern reach John's eyes and face but I can't really read Sherlock's. It just dropped but it held so many different feelings it was hard to pinpoint one. For once, I wish I knew what was going on in his head.
"Are you...crying?" I hear Anderson say from the kitchen. I snap my head towards him.
"Yes, surprise surprise, I have feelings to match my wit." I snap at him with a sad sadistic smile on my face. I turn back towards the boys and wipe whatever tear streaks that were left on my face. "Stop looking at me and think Sherlock. Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers, she was clever." I state walking towards them.
"Riv-"
"Shut up, John. Not now." I snap at him. "Sherlock. She was trying to tell us something. What was it?"
I see Sherlock snap out whatever trance he was in and starts to pace again.
"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock." We all turn to see Mrs. Hudson at the door.
What? Sherlock didn't ord-
Suddenly, the chill comes back up my spine and my breath hitches.
"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Sherlock responds waving his hand at her, shooing her away.
I can't breathe.
"Oh dear." She ignores him completely. "They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?"
I can't breathe.
"It's a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson." John tells her.
I can't breathe.
"But they're just for my hip." She leans in and whispers. "They're herbal soothers."
I. Can't. Breathe.
"SHUT UP, EVERYBODY! SHUT UP!" Sherlock suddenly yells scaring me back into reality. "DON'T MOVE, DON'T SPEAK, DON'T BREATHE,"
Ha.
"I'M TRYING TO THINK! Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."
"What? My face is?" Anderson questions.
"Everybody, quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade tells the people in the kitchen.
"Oh, for God's sake!"
"Oh, for once in your life Anderson, do something helpful and turn the hell around!" I yell at him.
Anderson jumps at my change in mood and turns his back.
"Come on, think! Quick!" Sherlock begins talking to himself out loud.
"What about your taxi?" Mrs Hudson tries to interject again.
"MRS HUDSON!" Sherlock and I both yell.
She stares at us shocked before quickly running down the stairs.
Suddenly, Sherlock freezes.
"Oh." he states."Ah! She was clever. Clever, yes!" Sherlock begins walking back towards his desk.
"She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead." I stare at him slightly confused trying to jump on his wavelength. "Do you see, do you get it?" He turns to me hopefully and then it clicks.
"She didn't lose her phone, she never did. She planted it on him." I state quickly walking over to Sherlock's computer.
"When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer." Sherlock begins to explain.
"But how?" Lestrade questions.
"Wha-" I look up from the laptop at him. "What do you mean, how?"
Lestrade looks at Sherlock and I with the same confused expression as everybody else in the room. Sherlock and I look at each other before shouting,
"Rachel!"
The same blank stares.
"Don't you see? Rachel!" Sherlock tries to get them to understand while I keep typing away on his laptop. It does no good as he still greeted to the same, blank and confused faces. A breathy chuckle leaves his mouth.
"Oh...Look at you lot. You're all so vacant. You're putting on a horrible performance in front of the American. You're making the war make sense now. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing." He sarcastically states to them all.
"Rachel is not a name." I state behind him to the room.
"Then what is it?" John snarkily remarks, a tad angry after clearly being insulted for the past 5 minutes.
"John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address." Sherlock points to the bag on the couch before coming and standing behind me, looking over my shoulder.
"Er, jennie.pink@mephone.org.uk." he reads out.
"Thank you!" I shout back at him before typing the email into the bar.
"Oh, I've been too slow. She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone." Sherlock speaks lowly, kinda to himself.
"It's a smartphone, it's email enabled." I state.
"So those are website for her account. The username is her e-mail address, and all together now, the password is?"
"Rachel." John finishes.
"Aww, that was sad, your all supposed to do it." I respond back typing in the password and pressing enter, waiting for the screen to load.
"So we can read her emails. So what?" Anderson responds from the kitchen.
"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street." Sherlock responds getting a small snicker out of me.
"We can do much more than just read her emails, my god you all act so old." I respond with humor in my voice.
"It's a Smartphone, it's got GPS." Sherlock states.
"Which means if you lose it, you can locate it online." I speak slowly, as if I was explaining something to a child.
"She's leading us directly to the man who killed her." Sherlock finishes my thought.
"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade adds.
"We know he didn't." John answers back.
Suddenly, the chill comes back and I freeze in the chair.
"Sherlo-" I go to speak but I'm interrupted by Mrs Hudson coming back up and into the room.
"Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver-"
Sherlock shifts from behind me walking over to the frazzled woman in the door.
"Mrs Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" Sherlock seethes at her through his teeth. He then walks over to Lestrade and starts giving him instructions as the screen flashes like a sonar. I find the strength to get up and John sits down taking over.
"Sherlock?" I try to get his attention but my voice is still small.
"Get vehicles, get a helicopter." he tells Lestrade ignoring me.
"Sherlock?" I try again, to speak a little louder but I still feel very small.
"We're gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won't last forever."
Then there is the chill again. And my ears pick up footsteps on the staircase.
No.
I walk over towards the door and shift my eyes to the stairs behind Mrs Hudson. I stumble back, almost tripping over the coffee table, which in turn causes Sherlock's focus to shift over to me, but before I can say anything, a beep comes from the computer, causing all of our focus to go onto John.
"Sherlock?" John calls.
"Where is it? Quickly, where?" Sherlock asks walking over to John, while I turn my back and walk to the window, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking that has taken over my body.
"Here. It's in 221 Baker Street." John replies causing me to shift my eyes over to Sherlock, hoping to catch his.
"How can it be here?" Sherlock questions, looking up trying to think. "How?" He finally shifts his eyes catching mine and we have a silent conversation.
"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere." Lestrade tries to Justify.
"What, and I didn't notice it? Me? I didn't notice it?" Sherlock responds not taking his eyes off of me.
I hear footsteps coming up from the staircase and my breathing gets quicker and I start to shake again. I can see him, bright as day.
"Anyway, we texted him and he called back." John tells Lestrade.
And then it all makes sense. And I know Sherlock has realized it too.
It's him. It's the Taxi Driver.
Sherlock and I keep eye contact and I quickly shift my eyes to the doorway then back to him, causing him to slowly turn towards the doorway, but he stops when he suddenly gets a notification on his phone. I glance back towards the doorway only to see the man is gone.
No. I didn't hallucinate him. I couldn't have.
"Sherlock," I speak and his eyes look up at me from his phone. "are you ok?" I ask, ironically given the situation.
"What?" he starts "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He states glancing towards the door again.
"Sherlock, how can the phone be here?" John asks glancing in between Sherlock and I.
"Don't know." he responds slowly making his way to the door.
"I'll try it again." John says, going to grab the luggage tag.
"Good Idea." Sherlock states heading towards the doorway and out the door.
"Sherlock?" I ask worried now. "Where are you going?"
"Fresh air, just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long." He states continuing down the stairs.
"Are you sure you're alright?" John calls out to him.
"I'm fine." Sherlock yells disappearing down the stairs.
John then turns to me.
"River, are you alright? You're shaking terribly." John says leading me over to the sofa.
"John I-" I try to speak but the words get caught in my throat again.
"It's ok. Don't speak. Just try to breathe ok?" John says with a sad smile.
He walks back to the laptop and tries to refresh the page again.
I feel helpless. Again. I talk so much shit and act so tough only to freeze up like this at the slightest bit of danger? Am I not the same girl who walked in a crime scene and called the police ignorant to their faces? Am I not the same girl who leaped from roof to roof to catch a Taxi? Am I not the same girl who was about to fight a cop in the very room we were in right now, just minutes ago?
And yet, here I was. Sitting on a small old yellow couch, holding myself to stop shaking. Deaf because of the ringing in m- Wait. WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? I HAVE HEIGHTEN SENSES FOR A DAMN REASON!
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
Ok. Focus.
I allow my mind to go blank and try to focus on Sherlock's voice.
"River? What ar-"
"John, I really need you to shut up right now."
"Sorry."
Deep Breath In. Deep Breath Out.
I focus in on his voice through the movement in the kitchen, through Mrs Hudson making tea and humming to herself until finally, I hear the timber of his voice. Along with another man's.
The Cabby.
"You're the cabbie." Sherlock's voice rings loud in my ears. "The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street."
A moment of Silence.
"It was you. You caused the bad feeling River got. Not your passenger."
"See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie."
"Someone did. I just didn't listen."
My stomach dropped a little hearing that. I shook my head and kept my focus.
"It's like your invisible. Just the back of a 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer."
Another moment of silence and then footsteps.
"Is this a confession?"
"Oh, yeah. I'll tell you what else. If you call the coppers now, I won't run."
I stand up at that statement which scares John and Lestrade.
"Ms Maddox, wha-"
"Shut up." I snap and try my hardest to focus while moving towards the window.
"I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise."
Why?
"Why?" Sherlock asks.
"'Cause you're not gonna do that."
No.
"Am I not?"
"I didn't kill those four people, Mr Holmes. I spoke to 'em and they killed themselves."
No.
"If you get the coppers now, I'll promise you one thing." A small pause. "I will never tell you what I said."
No. No no no no no. Sherlock, please.
I quickly rush over to the window and try my hardest to listen.
"No one else will die though and I believe they call that a result." Sherlock responds but there is hesitation in his voice.
"And you won't ever understand how those people died." Another pause. "What kind of result do you care about?"
Shit, Sherlock. Curiosity killed the cat.
I hear a door slam and that is enough for me to open my eyes and look out the window.
"River, what's going on? What's happening?" I hear John asks with great concern in his voice.
But I can't answer him because I'm too busy staring at the window, staring at the tall, curly haired british man standing on a sidewalk. He turns around and looks up towards the apartment and we make eye contact. He knows I've heard everything. After 5 seconds, he breaks the eye contact. He walks over to the cab window and bends down.
"If I wanted to understand," He pauses. "What would I do?"
"Let me take you for a ride."
No.
"So you can kill me. too?"
Sherlock.
"I don't want to kill you, Mr Holmes,"
Please.
"I'm going to talk to ya and then you're gonna kill yourself."
Don't. be. an. Idiot.
I see Sherlock stand up and it's quiet for a moment.
"River. what's going on?" I hear John ask again.
But by that point, the ringing has come back, louder this time. I don't hear a single thing anyone is saying to me. Because, by now, I have slowly backed away from the window and grabbed my coat off the couch and booked it down the stairs.
Because Sherlock fucking Holmes got into that bloody cab.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My friends are starting to worry about my health.
It might be because I refuse to stop writing until I've finished the chapter.
.
.
.
Oh well, it is what it is.
Please remember to Share and vote.
See ya soon.✌🏽