A bet. It was because of some stupid bet that he lost to Mycroft. The consequences had proven to be quite tedious. As of today, Sherlock Holmes, 16 years old, former (well, struggling,) drug addict and possibly the cleverest teenager in all of London was sitting and feeling very uncomfortable in the Landmark Hotel and Restaurant. He was dressed quite nicely; a crisp black suit with no tie and his hair was in its neatest state that he clearly loathed. He was on a date. A date! It wasn't his first time. Sherlock had gone to dates before. A social experiment or another one of Mycroft's' silly attempts to make him less unbearable. All of them failed of course. He just couldn't resist the fact of deducing them to tears. Probably not the right choice of words since they did either cried and/or spilled sparkling water all over his favorite coats. This time, though, the consequences of his bet with Mycroft, which he refused to discussed, involved him lasting the whole evening with the unfortunate lady without her cussing at him or spilling his drink at him again telling him to 'Piss off'.
He arrived at the Landmark earlier than he expected. The agreed blind date time was supposed to be at 7 yet he came at 6:30. His 'date' hadn't arrived yet and as of now, he was wearing a silent angry expression while he sat in a dimly lit place, with orange lights and incompetent waiters with dull people around him. He could see right through every one of them. That man about to propose to his girlfriend at the table across him was actually cheating on her with a sale's clerk from Tecsco and the girl herself was having an affair with one of the waiters here in the Landmark. The manager of the hotel was a druggie, judging from the distinct smell coming from his coat handkerchief while the waiter who just offered him some water like 5 seconds ago was recently jerking off at the staff bathrooms.
He sighed heavily, wishing the night to be over with, for time to run faster. He was sure that Mycroft installed camera all over the place for him to enjoy his little brother's so called 'date'.
Then she arrived, walking through those close doors and smiling at the doorman as he opened it for her. Mycroft only told him that her name was Alice Urban, an American exchange student from his high school and that she was a close friend of an acquaintance of his so they were eventually going to be meeting soon right after the date would fail.
Beauty was a social construct. Sherlock always believed that. Alice was very nice-looking. Perhaps not in a supermodel way but she did have nice eyes, he had to admit. Her hair was carefully plaited, and was slung into her right shoulder. She wore a blue dress and carried with her a black purse. Alice wheeled around for a moment before a waiter approached her and assisted her with the reservations. He lead her towards Sherlock's table, she said thank you and finally sat down, beaming too brightly at Sherlock.
His mind quickly started deducing her.
"Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure to finally met you," she said. Her voice was giddy and a bit perky for his taste, "Am I late?"
"No, no, no," he said quickly, as he adjusted his cuffs, "I was simply early,"
There was minute of awkward silence between them. She placed her hands on her lap and straightened. Her posture was very nice. Alice avoided eye contact with him, looking at the other customers and then at her glass, at the menu in front of her that the waiter just handed to them, and her lips were pulled into a tight-lipped smile.
"Shall we order," Sherlock said, breaking the silence.
"Yes! I mean..sure," She nearly stammered.
Sherlock hated eating when people were present but he ordered anyways. Alice took her time ordering, scrunching up her eyebrows as she looked at the menu, "Umm…the mushroom risotto please,"
The waiter nodded and scribbled it onto his notepad. When he left there was another minute of awkward silence between them.
"So…um…ah…" Sherlock hated it when people stutter. As if they were idiot's enough already, they made it so harder for him to understand them, "Sherlock…peculiar name, isn't it," her voice was higher than it was a while ago. She was shy and nervous.
Sherlock stared at her with a passive expression, "You don't do this often do you?" he started, "In fact this is your first time going on a date. Obviously. You're eager and excited, nervous and shy at the same time. You're orphaned," he couldn't help it, "at a young age it seems but then again you came her to London alone. Wanted to get away from the family perhaps? Why? You show no signs of depression although you did spend the last hours yesterday playing videogames judging from the marks on your thumb and the state of your eyes. Homeschooled. Hair and make-up done at a salon. And one last thing, what kind of gun do you have in your purse?"
Sherlock waited for the cry and outburst of his little date but it never really came. She sat there, blinking in surprise with an expression similar to a goldfish. She laughs nervously, "Would you excuse me for a moment. I need to go to girl's room," Alice arose from her seat and then sauntered off. She took an awful lot of time in there. Sherlock guessed that she was either having a nervous breakdown or phoning a friend. Most likely the latter. She came back 8 minutes later with a fake smile on her face. So she was phoned her friend then. Probably asked some advice how to handle him.
"This has been a rough start—" she started.
He cut her off by standing. "We're going elsewhere," he said.
She wore a confused expression, "What? Where are we going?"
"Change of venue. This place is boring. Come along if you want to, Miss Urban,"
"Wait a minute….Call me Alice but you haven't answered my question," she called out and followed him out of the restaurant, "What about the food. I was looking forward to the risotto," she pouted a little.
"Don't worry about that. Mycroft has already settled the bill," he said and then hailed a cab. Opening the door for her, Sherlock gestured for her to get in. She hesitated for a minute "Don't keep me waiting, Alice," he said. She nervously slid in the cab with Sherlock following her.
"So where are you taking me? Amusement park? Coffee shop?" Alice asked, "You could have reminded me in advance you know. I spent nearly 6 hours at the salon doing my hair and makeup and it took me 30 minutes to pick the right dress,"
Sherlock ignored her later complaint and answered her first question, "Crime scene," he said.
"Excuse me,"
"You heard me. We are going to a crime scene," he said as he ruffled his hair back into its natural curly state.
"Why?" she said slowly and surely, furrowing her eyebrows.
"We are on a date aren't we. Its where two people go out together and have fun," he said.
"You can't take your date to a crime scene with dead bodies!" she said loudly, "Well…At least that's what Gina would say," she mumbled the last part.
"Consider yourself lucky because you're the first," Assuming she doesn't run away immediately of course. After that, they didn't talk. There was another awkward silence. Sherlock watched the scenery through the window and Alice kept on fidgeting with her fingers.
"I was playing Assassins' Creed by the way," Alice said.
"most amusing," he said sarcastically, "And the gun,"
"Just a Ruger LC9" she replied casually.
"Ahh..Ideal for small hands I supposed,"
She appears to be quite good with a gun. Foster parents probably have something to do with the law. Has an ample knowledge of firearms. Perhaps, Alice isn't as boring as I thought. Sherlock knew she was hiding something. Why didn't she explain herself after that. Most people do. Well, then perhaps she isn't like most people.
"seen a lot of violence then," Sherlock asked.
She snorted, "You'd imagine. New York is a dangerous place for a girl such as myself you know,"
That was the end of the small talk. They finally arrived at the crime scene.
"Hello, Freak," a small black woman with curly hair said.
"Did she just call you Freak?" Alice whispered, "What is she? In kindergarten?" Sherlock actually chuckled at this one.
"I'm here to see Lestrade," he said sounding so bored.
"Why?" Sally narrowed her eyes in a vindictive gesture speaking harshly, "And why are you dressed all fancy?"
"I was invited," Sherlock said, ignoring her latter remark.
"Why?" she repeated again.
"I think Lestrade wants me to take a look," he said sarcastically.
"Well, you know what I think, don't you?"
Sherlock lifted the tape and ducked underneath it, "Always, Sally." He took a slight sniff and said, "I even know that you didn't make it home last night,"
"I don't ... "Sally then turned and looked at Alice, "Er, who's this?"
"This is Alice. She's a colleague," Alice was about to correct him when Sherlock cut her off by raising his hand in a not now gesture.
"And what happened to the other one? John Watson was it?" Sally asked. Sherlock heard Alice whisper softly, "Who's John?"
"He's busy," Sherlock was still quite angry about that . John thought that it was more important to visit his dear old grandmother than hang out with Sherlock.
"What did he follow you home? Blackmailed you or something,"
"—Actually—" Alice started her voice rising higher than its usual.
"Don't listen to her, Alice. Sally's just being her usual charming self," Sherlock said, sarcasm dropping from his tone. He gave Sally a fake smile and then lifted the police tape for Alice. She walked under the tape and followed Sherlock.
"Freak's here. Bringing him in," Sally spoke to her walkie talkie on her shoulder. She then begin to mutter, "Can't believe were asking help from a teenager," while gritting her teeth
"Are you just going to let her call you a Freak?" Alice asked him.
"Doesn't bother me. You probably think I am don't you?"
"No…" she said slowly, "I don't think you're a Freak,"
"Well what do you think I am then?"
She shrugged her shoulders while they were walking, "Different I guess. But not a Freak,"
"Hmm..Your kindness is most appreciated," he replied. So far, John was the only one who though that he wasn't some sort of Freak Show.
She giggled lightly, "It that your way of saying thank you?" Alice then saw a rat-faced man come out of the building wearing hideous blue overalls. He looked at Sherlock with absolute dislike and Sherlock reciprocated it, "Ah, Anderson. Here we are again," said Sherlock.
"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" Anderson said.
Sherlock took another sniffed, "Quite clear," he said, "And Is your wife away for long?"
"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that." Anderson sneered.
"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock deadpanned.
"My deodorant?"
"It's for men." He stated.
"Well, of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!" Anderson sneered.
"So's Sergeant Donovan." Sherlock told him looking all smug. Beside him, Alice giggled lightly. She got the idea and Sherlock was a little bit impressed that she knew. He took another sniff for dramatic effect, "Ooh and I think it just vaporized. May I go in?"
Anderson pointed angrily at the detective, "Now look: whatever you're trying to imply ..."
"I'm not implying anything," Sherlock heads past Sally towards the front door, "I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. He turned back, now with an I-know-what-you-did expression, "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." Alice chuckled. It was one of the best retorts she ever heard. Anderson and Donovan stare at him in horror.
"Okay you know what," Anderson said, clearly fed up with the teen, "Jut get inside. I am not having this conversation with a teenager!" Sherlock smiles smugly, then he turns and goes into the house. Alice walked past Donovan and resisted the urge to look at her knees.
"You need to wear one of these." He told Alice. She grimaced.
"But it would ruin my dress," she said. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Typical of a woman to think that. Then a silver-haired man who looked about in his 40's approached them, "Hi," Alice piped.
Lestrade looked at her with a baffled expression, "Sherlock who is this and why are you all dressed so fancy,"
"Lestrade this is Alice. She's my date," Sherlock replied and then took off his gloves.
"Date?" Now Lestrade looked even more baffled. One thing for sure was that Sherlock Holmes did not go on dates.
"Oh don't make me repeat, Lestrade," Sherlock said tetchily.
Lestrade turned to Alice waiting for some sort of confirmation. She was very pretty and it was a miracle that she managed to last even 5 minutes of Sherlock's time without crying or bawling out in anger, "You're his date?" he asked.
She shrugged her small shoulders and gave him a faraway smile, "I suppose,"
"It's unimportant right now. Show me the body," Sherlock demanded.
"..Umm..Upstairs.." Lestrade mumbled. He still was not over the fact that Sherlock brought his date to the crime scene. Sherlock started walking up the stairs ignoring Lestrade's protests.
"Sherlock, you can't just bring your date to the crime scene!" He said in a horrified tone, "She'll be terrified," Alice was behind them still trying to figure out if going on a date with Sherlock was such a good idea after all.
"Oh Hush, Lestrade. She's perfectly fine with it. Aren't you Alice," Sherlock said.
Alice opened her mouth to reply. The truth was she didn't know what to think with this so called date. She'd never been actually in one before and her only reference about teenage dating were chick-flick movies and Mean Girls. She was cut off when Sherlock dramatically slammed the door open revealing a women dressed in an alarming shade of pink, dead and lying face first on the ground. To his surprise, and that it was not likely for Sherlock to get surprised, Alice uttered no gasp nor scream nor cry of disgust. Not one terrified squeak escaped from her pretty little mouth. Interesting. So this isn't her first time seeing a dead body? What does she hang out in the morgue? No…something else.
"Shut up." He told them.
"I didn't say anything." Lestrade said, startled.
"You were thinking. It's annoying." Sherlock said as he stepped closer to the body.
Alice shared a look with Lestrade, "is he always like this?" she said. Sherlock was currently examining the body with great interest. He also appeared to be sniffing it like a dog.
Lestrade sighed dramatically like he's heard the question a million times before, "Yes. Yes he is. And you don't know the half of it. But seriously though? Date?"
"ahh..yeah…My friend Gina put me up to it," she said awkwardly.
"You're American," Lestrade pointed out.
"Excellent observation, Lestrade," Sherlock remarked sarcastically. He was ignored.
"You can ditch him if you want, love," Lestrade advised her, "I'm surprised and amazed that you lasted a minute with this git,"
"I can hear you," Sherlock sang and was now circling the body like a vulture.
"I don't want to be rude," Alice said. How polite, he thought. Lestrade snorted, "Oh trust me, love. It's for your own good," he turned to Sherlock, "Got anything?"
"Not much." He said nonchalantly. Sherlock got up to his feet rapidly typing on his mobile phone. Alice then heard Anderson's obnoxious voice from behind her.
"She's German. 'Rache': it's German for 'revenge'. She could be trying to tell us something ..." Sherlock walked quickly towards the door and slammed it while it was too close to Anderson's face.
"Yes, thank you for your input." He said, sarcastically.
"Nice," Alice commented.
"So she's German?" Lestrade asked again.
Sherlock was still looking at his phone, "Of course she's not. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff." He said, pocketing his phone, "So far, so obvious,"
"What about the message, though?" asked Lestrade.
Sherlock ignored the D.I. and looked at Alice instead, "Alice, what do you think?"
She raised her eyebrows, "Of the message?" she asked.
"Of the body."
"Umm…Sherlock I'm not a medic," she said meekly.
"Yes but I want to hear your opinion about it," Sherlock insisted.
"Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside." Lestrade told him.
"They won't work with me." Sherlock claimed.
"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here. You're not supposed to be in here and that's including your date," Lestrade said loudly.
"Yes ... because you need me and she's here because I have a date to finish," Sherlock replied. Lestrade stares at him for a moment, and then he lowers his eyes, looking so hopeless, "yes I do." He said, "God help me."
"Alice," Sherlock called.
"Hm?" she said, looking from the body to Sherlock and then she turns her head towards Lestrade, giving him a look of permission.
"Oh, do as he says. Help yourself." Lestrade said grumpily. He turned and opened the door going outside yelling, "Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes,"
She and Sherlock then walk over to the body. Sherlock squatted down on one side and Alice on the other. "Well?" Sherlock waited for her answer.
"What am I doing here?" she asked softly, "We could be having a nice dinner by now,"
"Helping me make a point." He said, "Dinner Is boring and dull. This is more fun,"
"I don't know about that. I like normal things. Dates aren't supposed to be examining dead bodies. They're supposed to be a walk on the park or the movies or maybe the amusing park. Stuff like that. Nice and quiet. Just going around for a little chat,"
Sherlock once again did his signature eye roll, "Like I said. Boring and dull. Well, why are you still here then if you think it's so boring,"
"I never said that,"
"But you were thinking of it,"
She gave him a sideways nod confirming his statement. Sherlock found it very unusual. Either she did just have a rather boring taste or she experienced things worse than this. Most people would find it appalling. She just found it boring, "I want to finish this date. I'm not letting my hair and make-up go to waste,"
"So do I. Well, what do you think?"
Lestrade then came bursting in, "two minutes, Sherlock!"
"Alice," Sherlock waited for her answer. She sighed and then rolled her eyes, crossing her arms on her chest.
"Umm…" she scratched her head, "It's not a suicide,"
"What—" said Lestrade.
"Not a suicide," Alice repeated, "That's not a suicide note nor is it a cry for revenge. It's a clue. She's trying to lead us to her killer,"
"But this shows all the signs of a suicide," Lestrade said.
Alice shook her head. For some reason, Sherlock found it very endearing, "No its not. She carved Rachel with her fingers. She did it while she was dying. Tell me, how many cases wherein the suicide victim writes a note while he or she is dying. Quite funny don't you think? If she was committing suicide he would have left a less painless note,"
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock looked at Alice like she was another interesting toy for him to play with, "Not exactly the deduction that I was looking for Alice but you are closer to any assumptions that the Yard has provided," Sherlock then started rambling at top speed about what he deduced about Jennifer Wilson, "Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase."
"Suitcase?" There was no sign of suitcase anywhere," said Lestrade.
"Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."
"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up ..."
Sherlock pointed the dead woman's finger, "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple."
"Cardiff?" Lestrade asked.
"It's obvious, isn't it?"
Lestrade shook his head slowly while Alice remained blank-faced. He frowned a bit while looking at her expression. Sherlock paused and looked at them both, "Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring, Her coat: it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" He get his phone from his pocket and shows the other two the webpage he was looking at earlier. It displayed the weather for the southern part of Britain. "Cardiff." He proclaimed.
"Why d'you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked.
"Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is."
"She was writing 'Rachel'?"
"No, she was leaving an angry note in German !Of course she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be. Question is: why did she wait until she was dying to write it?" Sherlock said with that sarcastic tone of his again.
For a moment of silence, Alice finally spoke up, "Well she had to wait for her killer to leave the building wouldn't she," she said. Suddenly Sherlock's eyes lit up.
"Brilliant Alice. You're right," he remarked.
Alice smiled sweetly and said, "Thanks,"
"How d'you know she had a suitcase?" asked Lestrade.
"Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night." Sherlock explained, "Now, where is it? What have you done with it?" he demanded an answer.
"There wasn't a case," Lestrade declared.
Sherlock raised his head, frowning, "say that again."
"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase."
Immediately Sherlock straightens up and heads for the door, calling out to all the police officers in the house as he begins to hurry down the stairs. "Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"
Lestrade followed him and then stopped on the landing while Alice continued to catch up to Sherlock.
"Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade called down the stairs.
"But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock said while trotting down.
"Wait up, Sherlock," Alice called, running down to catch up to him.
"It's murder, all of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings – serial killings." He looked so delighted. "We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to."
Alice suppressed a giggle. It was certainly her first time to see a teenager get so excited about a murder.
"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock stopped and began yelling, "Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?! Someone else was here, and they took her case. So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car."
"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there." Lestrade guessed.
"No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking ..." he stopped. His face lits up in sudden realization, "Oh. Oh!"
Lestrade leaned on the railing, "What is it, what?"
Sherlock smiled cheerfully to himself, " Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake."
"We can't just wait!" Lestrade yelled at him.
"Oh, we're done waiting!" Sherlock hurried down the stairs again, "Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" Sherlock reaches the bottom and disappears. Lestrade called out after him, "Of course, yeah – but what mistake?!
Sherlock comes back,"PINK!" he yelled. He hurried off again, "Come along, Alice. We have a case to look for,"
"Slow down. You're too tall for me to catch up," Alice called out.
Apparently, this was the second part of their date. Going dumpster diving. Sherlock was still baffled by the fact that Alice still hadn't ditched him. He was now having doubts that she could be working for Mycroft. Well, no matter. Her company was most enjoyable anyways. Alice just watched Sherlock, half-amused and half-annoyed that the second part of their date involved her watching her date rummage around every dumpster near Lauriston Gardens.
"Having fun yet," Sherlock asked as they dashed towards the next dumpster.
Alice frowned but she wasn't angry, "You ruined your suit. You look rather nice in it too. And we didn't even get a picture," she was now pouting then her eyes went wide and then she appeared to have realized something. She smack her palm on her forehead, "I can't believe I forgot to take pictures," she said and then dug in her purse looking for her mobile phone, "Come on, Sherlock, smile,"
"What? Are you serious?! You're taking a picture while I'm in this state," Sherlock smelled rather bad but neither he nor Alice seem to mind.
"Oh don't be ridiculous. I want some memories. No matter how weird this date is," Alice said.
He grunted in annoyance, "ugh, sentiment" he muttered. Sherlock was refusing to smile but Alice took a selfie anyways.
"So, having fun yet?" Sherlock asked. Alice fiddled with her phone and smiled at the picture of her face beaming brightly at the camera while Sherlock was pouting, clearly not amused.
"What makes you say that?" she said absently.
"Well, you are taking photographs," he pointed out.
She looked up and gave him a sideways smile, "Maybe. This is sort of fun. It is funny seeing you dig at trash looking for a pink suitcase,"
He chuckled lightly. This date wasn't as bad as he imagined. They arrived at another dumpster at another dark alley and finally Sherlock found it, "YES!"
Alice clapped, "great!" she said happily, "So what now? Are you turning it over to the cops?"
"Don't be silly, Alice. We haven't caught the serial killer. For me, the end of this date is when I caught the culprit for you however…"
"Oh I'm not leaving your side. Not until you take me home like my bucket list says so," she said.
Sherlock arched an eyebrow, "Bucket list?" he mused.
"Where too now?" Alice asked. Sherlock gave her a smirk. He hailed a cab and said, "221B Baker Street,"
"Why don't you live with your parents?" Alice asked him as they got out of the cab.
"This flat is nearer to London than at my parents' house," he replied absently as he pulled the pink case from the back, "I don't live alone though. They would have forced me to stay with Mycroft if I didn't get a flatshare,"
"Is it this John guy Sally mentioned I presume?"
"Yup," Sherlock said doing his usual p popping habit. He knocked on the door and when It opened revealed an old woman with a kind face, "Sherlock? I thought that you were on a date. Oh! Is this her?"
"Alice. Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson. Alice," Sherlock introduced.
"Oh my, you're quite lovely aren't you dear," Mrs. Hudson remarked.
"thank you," Alice said.
"Oh and Sherlock," Mrs Hudson sighed, "you're a mess. Have you been rummaging from dumpsters again,"
"so this isn't your first time," Alice mumbled.
"Not now Mrs. Hudson. I'm on a case—"
"slash date—" Alice added. The two teens hurried inside a Sherlock was anxious to take a bath.
"Nice place you got here—" Alice said, letting her eyes wander around the flat, "Hey, you have a skull," she was still clutching her phone and took pictures of him and his flat.
"Friend of mine…well I say friend," Sherlock nearly stammered, "and would you stop taking photographs!"
"Neat," she said, "Did you name it Yorrick and pretend as if you're in Hamlet," Alice then did the impression of her holding an imaginary skull and speaking in a terrible English accent, "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath bore me on his back a thousand times, and now how abhorr'd in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it," she looked at Sherlock for some kind of comment but instead saw him look at her half-amused and not pleased, "you have a terrible English accent. Never do that again," he said.
Alice shrugged playfully, "Alright," and then she slumped on to the old red armchair that was John's chair and hugged the Union Jack pillow behind it, "Take a bath already, you stink,"
Sherlock merely hummed. A few minutes later, he emerged from his bathroom smelling like fresh soap. Alice rather liked the scent and as she thought about it, her cheeks suddnenly felt warm. Sherlock approached her carrying pink suitcase and setting it down on the coffee table. He was wearing a white dress shirt that fitted him perfectly and with his sleeves rolled down, there were three patches on his forearm. Alice blinked trying to register if that was what she think it was. Please don't let it be a nicotine patch. Sherlock slumped on his chair and then pressed the patches on his skin harder. He let out soft moan of pleasure. Alice was greatly disturbed.
"is that a nicotine patch?" she asked, her pitch rising.
"Hmm..Helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days," he said.
"But you're 16," she pointed out. Her tone almost sounded like she was disappointed in him.
"Marvelous deduction, Alice. Even Anderson could point that out,"
Alice frowned, "it's good news for breathing though,"
"Oh breathing. Breathing's boring," He said dismissing the fact. Alice looked closer at Sherlock's arm, "Is that three patches?" she said.
"It's a three patch problem," He said, pressing both his hands in a prayer position.
"So, What next?" Alice said.
Sherlock didn't respond for a while. He was busy thinking. Finally, his eyes fluttered open and he looked straight into Alice's mesmerizing blue, "I need to borrow your phone. On my desk there's a number. I want you send a text,"
"Okay…" she nearly squeaked. Alice stood up and grabbed the paper and then began typing on her phone.
"are you doing it?"
"Yes," she droned.
Sherlock was feeling impatient, "have you done it,"
"Hang on." She said.
"These words exactly: 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.'" He instructed, " 'Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.'" Sherlock zipped the case open, "Have you sent it?" he asked again.
"Done," she sang, "so what are you going to do about the case?"
Sherlock smirked and then perched on his chair like a little child, then clasped his hands under his chin. Alice walked over to her chair and sits. He refolded his hands and extends his index finger to point at the case, "Now, look. Do you see what's missing?"
Alice peeked in the case and smirked, "her phone,"
Sherlock smiled, "Bingo." He sung
"So that's why you had me text that number," Alice said in realization, "Oh, I see what you're doing. If I found that phone I would have ignored the text. But the killer would…" the phone rings. They both look at each other.
"Panic." Sherlock said, clicking his 'k'. He closed the suitcase. SLAM. Sherlock walks across the room, picking up his jacket and putting it one.
"Have you called the cops?" she asked.
"Four people are dead, there's no time to talk to the police," He said. Sherlock sauntered over to his room and picked out an old black coat of his. When he got back, Alice was already standing on the doorway. He tossed her the coat, "Here. It's going to be cold outside and your outfit does no help," she caught the coat with ease, looked at it for a moment and then giggled like a love-strucked teenager.
"Another one for the bucket list," she mumbled happily and then carefully put on the coat.
"Come on," Sherlock rushed downstairs leaving Alice to follow him, "No time to waste,"
Alice caught up to Sherlock with ease despite the state of her shoes. 4 inch black heels that she wore occasionally, "Do you think the killer I stupid enough to go to Northumberland Street?" Alice asked.
He smiled, "No – I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught."
"Why?"
"Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius, Alice: it needs an audience."
Alice shrugged in agreement, "true." She mumbled. Sherlock glanced at her. Alice's cheeks were flushed from the cold but she looked rather cute wearing one of his old coats. Now Sherlock. Remember to always be the gentlemen. When she gets cold, let her wear your coat, He remembered Mummy say that to him and then deleted it after. Somehow it resurfaced back into his mind.
"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go. Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" Sherlock said. he glances back at Alice and saw that she was all huddled up in his coat.
"Loads of people..." She mumbled, "Teachers, librarians, police officers," he snorted at that one, "office clerks and restaurant waiters…old ladies and sometimes children...taxi drivers…" she trailed off, "But I have a feeling that you trust neither of them," she said.
"Yup. Hungry," he clapped. Sherlock saw her eyes lit up.
"We're finally eating out. Yes," she said, squealing.
He led her into a small Italian restaurant. He took his coat off and went towards a table with a reserved sign on top of it. Alice took off her coat as well and followed him, "Oo..I like this. Italian. Not so fancy. Finally something normal," she said and smiled at him and took another picture.
"Gah!" Sherlock raised his arms like a little kid escaping a picture from his mother, "Stop that,"
"But you look so cute. Come on; let's take a picture together,"
"No," he said firmly. Alice rolled her eyes and told one of the waiters; Billy was it? To take the picture for her.
"Come on, Sherlock. Smile," she said. And Click. The picture looked horrible. Sherlock was grumpy and Alice was still smiling brightly at the camera. Billy handed her back her phone. "Thanks, Bill,"
Sherlock gave her an annoyed look, "stop it," he said.
An Italian, stocky man approached them, "Sherlock." He said shaking Sherlock's hand."Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." He offered, laying a couple of menus on the table."On the house, for you and for your date.
"This man got me off a murder charge," The Italian man told her.
"How nice of you," Alice said.
"This is Angelo." Sherlock introduced and then went on an explanation on how he proved that Angelo wasn't involved in a triple murder and was housebreaking instead. "He cleared my name. I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic."
"You may as well eat. We might have a long wait." Sherlock said, handing her a menu. Angelo then comes back, placing candle. He gave thumbs up to Alice.
"But aren't you going to eat anything?" she asked.
"I don't eat while I'm on a case," Sherlock replied distractedly. He was looking through the window, waiting for the killer to ring the doorbell.
"But don't forget that this is a date," she reminded him, "It'll be weird if I'm the only one whose eating,"
"Digesting slows me down," he said, waving off her pointless chiding. To his surprise again she let out a hearty laugh.
"Seriously. What is it with you geniuses with the not eating and sleeping thing? My best friend is like you, you know. He's a genius as well though he can't deduce people very well. He's more observant towards machines then people. Leo didn't eat for 3 days once…or twice…maybe like twice a month and he nearly collapse…well he actually collapse. It's no surprise to find him staggering on the hallway about to fall down," she explained, eyes crinkling at the memory.
"Interesting," Sherlock said, "And I take it that he's orphaned as well,"
Alice nodded, "yeah—we met when we were 12. Been best friends ever since. But you're not changing the subject here. You're going to eat," she pointed a threatening finger to his direction.
"No," he said almost in a playful tone.
"Fine then," she raised her hands in mock defeat, "I won't eat as well,"
"Oh don't be stubborn," Alice snorted at this, "You're hungry. I can tell," she waved the statement off with her hand.
"I'll be fine." she insisted, "and I told you that'd it be weird of one of us eats,"
"You're still not making me eat…whatever manipulation you're currently doing," he said finally.
"That's alright. We are investigating aren't we," she said with a giggle.
He gave her a look and continued looking through the window, "Look across the street. Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out."
"So that's him."
"Don't stare." He told her.
"But you're staring." She complained.
"Well we can't both stare!" Sherlock supplied. He got up to his feet, pulling in his coat and wearing it. Alice hurried off, grabbing her coat and following him as he ran into the traffic toward the cab. The taxi pulled away. This was getting better, she thought. The thrill of the chase was back. "Come on!" he yelled for her to follow.
"You do know that I am wearing high heels, you know," Alice yelled back. She took of her shoes and looked at the as if she was saying goodbye and caught up to Sherlock. Alice was very athletic, Sherlock noticed. She didn't even appear to be breaking a sweat as they maneuvered their way into the streets and dark alleys of London. Somehow, Alice was still able to take pictures while they were running. They almost ran into traffic and with Alice's good reflexes, she jumped backwards.
Sherlock however almost got ran over. But the cab stopped, "Police! Open her up!" Sherlock demanded. He opened the door and stared at the passenger, scrutinizing every detail. He stood upright and turned to Alice wearing an exasperated expression. Sherlock leaned in again at the cab taking a good look at the passenger, "Teeth, tan—what? California?" he asked. The man nodded.
"It's probably your first trip to London, right; going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?"
"Sorry – are you guys the police?" the tourist asked, "wait a minute, your teenagers!" he exclaimed.
Sherlock ignored his statement and insisted that yeah, they were the police, "yeah," Sherlock said as he flashes him a badge, "Everything alright?"
"No everything is not alright!" the man cried out.
"Welcome to London." Sherlock gave the man a fake smile. He walked away towards the sidewalk. Alice, being the polite person she is said, "Um, any problems just let us know." She said, winking at him casually.
"I'll report this you know. Meddling teenagers!" the man yelled and then closed the cab door muttering curses.
Alice followed Sherlock to the sidewalk who busy pacing around, catching his breath. He obviously needed more exercise, Sherlock noted. He looked at Alice who wasn't even breaking a sweat. "It was just a cab who happened to slow down?" He told her, panting.
She giggles slightly, "So, not the murderer." She said smirking. He shook his head.
Alice gave him an uneasy smile, "Where did you get that anyway?" she asked him pointing at the badge.
"Lestrade," he replied, "I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one; I've got plenty at the flat." He said, giving her the badge. She chuckled and pocketed the badge in her first. A lovely souvenir.
"What?" he asked.
"Welcome to London?"
Sherlock smiled and straightened himself up, finally regaining his breath. "Alright. Ready?" he asked. Alice nodded, still chuckling. They ran back to 221B despite Alice's protests to ride a taxi.
When they arrived at 221B, walking inside, they stop for a few minutes, catching their breath (it was more Sherlock's). Sherlock finally stood upright. He drapes his coat over the bottom of the bannisters while Alice did the same.
"You so owe me a new pair of shoes," she told him as she looked at the soles of her feet already covered with dirt
"I'll keep that in mind," he said, "Having fun yet?"
Alice laughed and then nodded, "Oh sure. Loads," she said.
They looked into each other's eyes and Sherlock actually felt himself blush. Stop that! He scolded himself. If John or Mycroft finds out about this I'll never hear the end of it. Their moment as ruined when Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat and hurried towards them, "Sherlock, what have you done?" she said in an upset and tearful tone.
"Mrs. Hudson?" He asked, confused.
"Upstairs." She said. Sherlock rushed upstairs with Alice following him behind. When they got to the flat, Alice saw Lestrade and several police officers there, rummaging at Sherlock's stuff. "What are you doing?" he asked angrily.
"Well, I know you would find the case. I'm not that stupid." Lestrade replied. He was sitting casually on Sherlock's chair that made him even angrier. "You can't break into my flat!" he complained.
"And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat."
"Well, what do you call this then," Sherlock said, spreading his arms.
"It's a drug's busts." Lestrade said. Alice turned her attention towards Sherlock instead of the bag of thumbs one of the officers was holding. Sherlock glanced at her. He looked embarrassed.
"You're a druggie?" she said in disbelief but there was no disappointment in her tone.
"Sorry to embarrass you on your date, Sherlock. This might be the part where you ditch him," Anderson's annoying voice rang into Sherlock's ears. He nodded towards the kitchen where he saw the incompetent fool smile venomously at him, "Anderson, what are you doing on a drug's bust!" Sherlock said angrily.
"Oh, I volunteered,"
Sherlock turned away, biting his lips. He refused to make any sort of eye contact with Alice.
"Seriously, though. You're a junkie?" Alice repeated.
"Sorry to upset you," he said nodding.
She snorted, "Not really. We all make mistakes. I mean a guy with like you with a brain like that needs to have something to distract you right? Though you did choose incorrectly. Is that why you're solving crimes as an alternative to getting high?" she said.
Sherlock paused, unable to process what she just said. Everyone in the room paused for 3 seconds as well before rummaging back again.
"What?" Alice deadpanned.
"That's not a normal reaction," Sherlock said softly. He looked at Alice's sympathetic smile as like she understood what he was going through.
"Are these human eyes," Donovan said as she walked over carrying eyeballs.
"Put those back!" Sherlock commanded.
"They were in the microwave."
Sherlock sighed, "It's an experiment,." He said. Donovan walked back into the kitchen. Sherlock was now angrily pacing around, "This is childish," he complained.
"Well, I'm dealing with a child. Don't forget that you are still underage, Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?" Lestrade scolded him.
"Oh, what, so-so-so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?" he said, glaring at Lestrade,
"It stops being pretend if they find anything." Lestrade said. Sherlock was so close from blowing his top off, "I am clean!" he yelled.
"Is your flat? All of it?"
"I don't even smoke." He moaned while unbuttoning the cuff of his left shirt, pulling it up showing his nicotine patch on his lower arm. "Neither do I," Lestrade said, showing off his nicotine patch. Sherlock rolled his eyes. He readjusted his sleeves. "So let's work together. We found Rachel." Lestrade added.
"Who is she?" Sherlock asked.
"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter." Lestrade answered.
"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name?" Sherlock said, frowning.
"Never mind that. We found the case." Anderson interrupted, pointing at the pink case in the living room. "According to someone, the murderer has the case and its in the hands of our favorite psychopath." He caontinued.
"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high functioning sociopath. Do you research." He corrected.
Alice glared at Anderson, "He's not the murderer you know. I was there when went dumpster diving to look for the pink case," she said, "I even have pictures,"
"Dumpster diving?" Lestrade mouthed off.
Sherlock whipped his head back to face Lestrade, "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her." Sherlock demanded.
"She's dead," Lestrade deadpanned.
"Excellent!" Sherlock cried, "How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be,"
"Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago." Lestrade answered, shrugging his shoulders. Sherlock started scrunching up his eyebrows in deep thought. "No, that's ... that's not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?"
"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?! Yup – sociopath; I'm seeing it now." Anderson commented. Sherlock shot him a glare.
"She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt. Even Alice saw that," Sherlock corrected Anderson. An exasperated expression written clearly on his face.
"You said that the victims took the poison themselves. Well, maybe he serial killer makes them take it. Use the death of his daughter perhaps," Alice offered she was about to suggest another theory, one that she was sure of when Sherlock immediately cut her off.
"But that was ages ago why would she still be upset?!" Sherlock exclaimed and the room fell silent, "Not good?"
Alice shrugged, "A bit maybe," she said.
Sherlock took a step closer to Alice until they were inches apart. Sherlock noticed that she smelled like lemons, "Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?" He asked Alice and noticed that her eyes turned a few shades darker. She sighed heavily, "Ummm…I never really thought about it," she said. Then suddenly her eyes lit up, "I can't believe I haven't thought about this before. Sherlock I need to borrow your laptop. Oh I've been so focused on our date that I forgot the obvious,"
Sherlock blinked several times, clearly confused. Alice walked over to the laptop on his desk and began typing. On the screen showed website and it all finally clicked to Sherlock.
He smacked his lips and nearly jumped, "Alice, you are brilliant!" he remarked.
"What? Why is she brilliant?" Lestrade asked.
"Don't you see…Rachel!" Sherlock exclaimed. The adults were all wearing blank faces. Sherlock laughs in disbelief, ""Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Rachel is not a name,"
"Then what is it?" Lestrade sternly said.
"it's a password," Alice answered.
"Correct. Alice on the luggage, there's label. E-mail address." Sherlock instructed. Sophy walked over to the luggage, picking up the label and reading it out loud. Sherlock sat at his desk and began to type in his laptop mumbling, "Oh, I've been too slow. She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smartphone, its e-mail enabled." He typed in the website.
"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson blurted out loud.
"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You'll lower the IQ of the whole street." Sherlock insulted, "We can track him. It's a smartphone. It's got GPS which means if you lose it, you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who did it."
"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade added.
"But he didn't. I texted him and he called back," Alice said looking all smug.
"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said as she came inside the flat. "Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?"
"It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson." Alice answered.
Mrs. Hudson trembled, "But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers," She reasoned.
"Sorry, did you say Taxi?" Alice asked. Mrs. Hudson nodded.
"GO AWAY MRS. HUDSON. I AM BUSY!" Sherlock yelled. He continued typing. "We need to get the vehicles, get a helicopter." Sherlock told Lestrade.
"We'll just have a map reference, not a name."
"It's a start!"
On the computer, a map appeared and was now zooming in with the location. Alice gripped her purse strap tightly, "Sherlock." She called, "It's here. The phone is here,"
"How can it be? How?" Sherlock asked, straightening up.
"Well maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell," Lestrade suggested.
"what? And I didn't notice? Me?" he said it like it was the most impossible thing that could happen to the world. Sure when pigs fly, he thought. Sherlock turned until he was facing the doorway. He saw there was someone going down the stairs.
"Sherlock, you okay?" Alice asked in concern.
"What? Yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine." He assured her. But Alice was a difficult person to be convinced with. He decided to follow the man. "Where are you going?" asked Alice.
"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long." He lied. Alice frowned. She knew he was lying. "Sherlock, don't be so stubborn. Let me help,"
"Alice stay here." He ordered. He couldn't let her be involved.
"Sherlock!" she repeated. She was now fidgeting.
"Stay here. Promise me." He whispered.
"Sherlock this is ridiculous," she said.
"I think you should go home now Alice. Date's over," he said. Sherlock didn't want her day to end like this.
"Sherlock!" he ignored her protest and walked downstairs to face the killer.
The shot was precise and calculated. It came from behind him but the shooter was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock managed to torture the poor man to get a name from him. Moriarity, he yelled out and then died. The end.
The police arrived and Sherlock was sitting at the doorway of an ambulance with an orange shock blanket draped over him. "So the shooter, no sign?" Sherlock asked.
Lestrade nodded, "Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but ... "he shrugged, "... got nothing to go on."
Sherlock looked at him pointedly, "Oh, I wouldn't say that." He said.
"Okay, gimme." Sherlock stood up and began explaining, "The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service ..." he faltered as Sherlock saw Alice standing away some distance behind from the police tape, looking all innocent with her blue eyes sparkling, "…and nerves of steel…" Sherlock made the connection. He couldn't believe it. He nearly scoffed. He couldn't believe it that her, a person who just met him and experienced firsthand of how much of a rude asshole he could be, killed a man to save him. Sherlock wanted to keep her.
"Actually, do you know what? Ignore me." He told Lestrade. Impossible. How could she stay so calm without having a mental breakdown?
"Sorry?"
"Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking." Sherlock dismissed as he walked towards Alice.
"Where're you going?"
"Finishing my date," Sherlock said absently.
"But I've still got questions for you."
Sherlock gave him an irritated look, "Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!"
"Sherlock!" Lestrade protested.
"And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less."
Lestrade looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, "Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go,"
Sherlock walks towards Alice. When he got near to her, she started speaking, "Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a terrible business, hasn't it? Terrible."
"Good shot," He said.
"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window." Alice tried her best to look like an innocent teddy bear which was somehow succeeding. "Well, you'd know. It was a good shot though, I wonder who it was," she said trying to change the subject.
"Are you all right?" he said. Hidden deep inside him, Sherlock was a little concern about Alice. The experience must have been traumatizing.
This wasn't her first time.
"Yes, of course I'm all right." She gave him smile.
"Well, you have just killed a man."
"Yes, I ...He wasn't a very nice man." She supplied. Sherlock nods in agreement.
"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?"
"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie." She said in a poor English accent.
Sherlock chuckled, "Don't ever try to be English again." He warned her jokingly. They both started giggling, "Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!" Alice reminded him
"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me."
"Keep your voice down!"
They walked past Donovan, "Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think." Alice said to her. They continued walking until Alice stopped, clearing her throat she said, "You were going to take that damned pill, weren't you?" Sherlock stopped, turning to face her, "Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up." He lied perfectly. Alice though wasn't convinced.
"No you didn't. Its how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you're an idiot." She deadpanned. "And you were wrong." She added.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Wrong? How?" he asked, beginning to get curious. Alice smirked, "Both of the pills were poisoned." She said, "No matter which pill you took, you were going to die. The only reason the old cabbie didn't was because he took an antidote hours ago."
"I..didnt..I..havent thought of that." He stammered, "How did you know that?"
Alice shrugged, "it's obvious isn't it," she mimicked him.
"I do not sound like that." He said and then smiled in delight that finally there was finally a woman who understood and tolerated his behavior. Alice inhaled and breathe out through her mouth nosily, "I came here to London to escape the violence of New York," she shook her head, "Bad idea,"
Sherlock chuckled. He forces the smile down, "Dinner?"
"Starving," she said, "This has probably the longest date I've even been through,"
"This is the only date you've been through," he reminded her, "End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle." As he talked, a few yards ahead of them a black car pulled up. Sherlock groaned.
He growled as he walked towards sleek black car. Out came a smartly dressed man, and looked awfully like he was in his 30's, was actually only 23 years old, "Mycroft,"
"Your brother?"
Mycroft spoke pleasantly despite Sherlock's death glare, ", "So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?"
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, still glaring.
"As ever I'm concerned about you," Mycroft said he turned to Alice, "How delightful that Miss Urban managed to last the night with you Sherlock. How was he as a date. Hellish I imagine,"
"Eh..it was fun," she said.
" Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'."
" Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"
"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock sneered.
"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy." Mycroft said, glowering at Sherlock.
"It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft." He said darkly, " Putting on weight again?" Sherlock teased.
"Losing it, in fact." He shot back.
"umm.." Alice let out a nervous cough, "Are boys going to stand there and fight all night?" she said.
"How's Gina, Alice?" Mycroft asked, smiling nicely at her.
"She's alright," Alice said.
"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic." Sherlock said. He walked away in the opposite direction. Mycroft turned his attention to Alice and gave her a knowing look. She squinted her eyes at him and then glared, "Should have known. What? He asked you to look out for me?" She said.
"You had fun today, Alice. That's what's important isn't it?"
She walked ahead but not before looking over her shoulder and sticking her tongue out at Mycroft. Alice caught up with Sherlock and they walked side by side.
"So: dim sum." Alice said.
"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies."
"No you can't." Alice smiled.
"Almost can," Sherlock said.
"So…." Alice trailed off, "Are we going to hold hands now?" she asked him sounding so much like a middle schooler. Sherlock chuckled lightly and then awkwardly entwined his pale long fingers into hers. It was all very awkward really. Sherlock could see her cheeks turn pink and his were slightly warm.
"One more thing though," Sherlock started. Alice groaned, "How long have you been taking martial arts?" he asked.
"hmm..what gave it away?"
"You're knuckles," he said.
"What are you so happy about anyway?" Alice asked scooted closer toward him.
The smile he was wearing looked more psychotic than usual.
"Moriarity."
"Who' that?" She asked. Sherlock gave her another smirk and there it was, Sophy knew that wherever she went, her life was never going to be mundane.
"I have absolutely no idea." And Sherlock can't wait to solve the puzzle that is Moriarity.
Dinner was rather pleasant. Alice finally got her sort of normal date that he was expecting. Sherlock accompanied her home and while the two of them were standing at the flat, he supposed that he had to kiss her or something but he didn't because apparently Alice reminded him that the kiss was supposed to be on the 2nd date. Instead, they parted off with an awkward shaking of hands.
"So..Umm…Tonight was rather enjoyable," Sherlock said, not looking at her eyes.
"Ditto,"
Another awkward silence. This time, Alice was the one to break it off by quickly saying, "seeyouatschool," and shoving the coat that Sherlock handed to her hours ago. Alice hastily opened her flat door and dashed inside. He stood outside for half a minute trying to register what just happened. Sherlock found it rather cute.
"Who are you really, Alice Urban," he whispered. Sherlock hailed cab and then went home.