Summary

Sequel to "Trust The Silence"

That day had come much sooner than any of them had thought, pushing them all to new limits, testing more than just the friendships between the three flatmates. It would test their very persons in a game of trust, friendship and tolerance. Who will break and who will stay steady? Who will decide that they can't take anymore of it? And who will survive this newest puzzle that will change lives for ever?

The Silent Game

A Proper Silence

Rose Spencer glanced around the room again, taking in the cold light against the green walls, rows of table and chairs in the room. In front of her sat a large looking man, built with muscle and a short layer of spiky hair on his head.

Sherlock had agreed to a consultation and, being his assistant, she had come along to do whatever she could to help him. This was not what she had in mind when she took the job, but she wouldn't have said no if she had known. The Consulting Detective had brought her all the way to Minsk, Belarus to see a criminal who was to hang for the murder of his girlfriend.

"Just tell us what happened from the beginning." Sherlock said, sounding bored and looking completely relaxed. Rose was a little less comfortable in the large hall.

"We'd been to a bar." Explained the man in the orange suit. "Nice place, and, err, I got chatting with one of the waitresses, and Karen weren't too happy with that, so… when we get back to the hotel, we end up having a bit of a ding-dong, don't we?" Sherlock let out a large sigh and Rose could tell that he wanted to go home already. "She's always getting at me, saying I weren't a real man."

"Wasn't a real man." Corrected Sherlock in a bored tone. Rose hid her surprise at the correction well. The man opposite them didn't.

"What?"

"It's not weren't, its wasn't." Explained Sherlock; he hated bad grammar, but improper English always bugged him.

"Oh." Said the man if front of them, glaring at Sherlock slightly.

"Go on." Said Rose, wanting to avoid a fight in a Russian prison hall.

"Well…then, I don't know how it happened, but suddenly there's a knife in my hands…and you know me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast." The man said, getting back into his little story.

But Sherlock had to correct him again. "Taught."

"What?" The man was getting a little agitated now.

"Taught you how to cut up a beast." In any other situation, Rose may have laughed at the improbability of Sherlock saying the word beast, but she held in her laughter, but a small half smile crept up on her.

"Yeah, well then I done it." He finished, wanting the consultation over with now.

"Did it." And that was the last straw for the murderer in front of them.

"Did it! Stabbed her!" He shouted, the smile slipping off her face the only sign that she was distressed. "Over and over, and I looked down, and she weren't…" Sherlock just let out a long drawn sigh. "…wasn't moving no more." Sherlock looked away again. "Anymore." Corrected the man, learning his lesson it seemed. "God help me, I don't know how it happened, but it was an accident, I swear."

Sherlock pushed away from the table, Rose following him a moment later. "I think we're done here."

"Eh, you've got to help me Mr Holmes!" Sherlock stopped at the mans words, Rose getting a bad feeling in her gut. "Everyone says you're the best." Feeding his ego will do you no good, she thought. It wont do me any good either. "Without you… I'll get hung for this."

Rose saw Sherlock turn to him slightly. "No, Mr Buick, not at all." He smiled coldly. "Hanged, yes." With that, he turned away, Rose following after, not looking back at the dead man walking.

Holding the door for her as they got outside, Sherlock walked, though decided to teach Rose a small lesson. "Language is important Rose. What ever one you do choose to speak, speak it properly."

She shoved her hands deep into the wool lined pockets of her thick coat. "Duly noted Sherlock." She said with a smile.