Chapter II
John opened the door of 221b Baker Street and showed Ariel inside. As he locked the door behind them, she stood patiently waiting for John to take her coat, which he promptly hung up.
"This way." He said as he began ascending the stairs. She followed quickly behind him. As they climbed the stairs, Ariel could hear the strains of a violin calling out in the darkness.
John opened the door to the flat and Ariel entered in before him. Looking out the window as he played the violin, Sherlock Holmes stood, a tall, dark figure standing in the light of a single lamp.
"John, I would really appreciate you not bringing your girlfriends back to the flat." Sherlock voice rang out as he put the violin away. Before John could open his mouth to retort, Ariel's sweet voice filled the air.
"I need your help, Mr. Holmes." It was almost as if she wanted to sugarcoat her words so much that Sherlock would be sick just hearing them. Interesting method of scolding. John thought. He'd have to remember that one for later.
Sherlock looked at Ariel for the first time. He noticed her slender, feminine figure and her deep blue eyes. She held herself in a completely different way then her words had suggested. This one knows how to play the game. Sherlock thought to himself as he picked up on little details about her in seconds.
"Of course you do." Sherlock said in his usual cool voice. "But what for?"
"I heard you like puzzles." Ariel said, continuing in her sickeningly sweet tone. "So I have a puzzle for you." The sugary smile that crept across her face as she made herself comfortable in one of the chairs made John's stomach lurch. Was this really the same woman he'd just had dinner with? Where had this condescending sweetheart come from?
Sherlock just looked at Ariel as if she were a new spices of animal and he was trying to figure out what she was.
"You wouldn't have come here if it was just a puzzle." Sherlock said, his mind working faster than his mouth. "There's something more."
Ariel flinched just the slightest bit, and she had given it away to Sherlock.
"Ahh, your life is at risk. I see." He was starting to get excited. "Where is the puzzle?"
Without saying a word, Ariel pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to Sherlock, it still being opened to the photo. He turned around and began pacing the room as he read. John finally found his voice.
"Would you like some tea?" He asked Ariel. Before she could answer, Sherlock put in his request.
"Two lumps and a little milk, thank you." John sighed at the rudeness of his flatmate. Ariel touched his arm as if to say "it's alright", smiled and said,
"Same for me, please."
John went into the kitchen to make tea, leaving Sherlock pacing the length of the living room, trying to figure out the riddle and Ariel sitting watching him. Suddenly, Sherlock stopped dead, a look of confusion on his face. Ariel move to the edge of her seat as she listened eagerly to what Sherlock had to say.
"I need more information!" He almost yelled.
"What do you need to know?" Ariel replied, the sugar coating of her words gone.
"Tell me about your brother." Sherlock said, impatiently. But he would have to learn patience because Ariel had another question for him.
"How did you know I had a brother?" She asked, almost completely astounded.
"Simple, really." Sherlock began.
"The way you stand says that you are an older sibling, probably to oldest. Your clothing is new, but your bag is old, well worn, because it was a gift? Not likely. More likely of what is attached to it. A small trinket. Now, everything you have on is rather fancy, high quality, but not that. The quality of the trinket suggest a child made it, but you clearly don't have any children of your own, so a sibling. The fact it is meant to look like a solider suggest that the creator of it was a young boy. But not much younger then you at the time of your receiving it, otherwise it wouldn't be on your bag at all. Obviously then, it means something to you. It's important. But why? Because it was a gift from your younger brother." Sherlock concluded with a smug smile, looking at Ariel to confirm his conclusions.
"You're right. Absolutely right." Ariel said, a confident smile on her face.
"I know." Sherlock said, smiling back.
"Bloody hell!" John yelled from the kitchen.
"You alright in there John?" Ariel called.
"Fine, just fine, thank you." He said sarcastically. "Just spilled the water on myself."
"You should be more careful next time." Sherlock said seriously and looked down at Ariel. She quickly covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
"Really? Hadn't thought of that." John fumed as he entered the room carrying a tea tray. He put it down on a little table between the chairs.
"Thank you, John." Ariel said sincerely, taking her cup.
"Yes, thank you." Sherlock chimed in as he pick his up. This seemed to soften John's expression.
"You're welcome." He said, sitting down on a chair he'd pulled away from the table. A moment of silence followed as each enjoyed their tea.
"So, about your brother?" Sherlock said, putting his cup down and steepling his fingers in front of his face.
"He was a decent man." Ariel began. "A normal boy. Daredevil in every sense of the word. Liked to see just how far he could push before getting seriously injured. Turned 29 two months ago. Never missed an opportunity to show off, but he loved his family. Skilled, amazing balance. He should have been a gymnast." As Ariel spoke, John could see her brother in his mind.
"Umm, yes. And how did he die?" Sherlock asked.
"Sherlock!" John hissed. Of all the times to be insensitive, this was one of the worst.
"Well he obviously is dead, judging by the way she talks about him in past tense." Sherlock retorted. John was just about ready to fire back some nasty words when Ariel interrupted.
"It's ok." She said and smiled at John. Looking at Sherlock she said,
"Shot on the battlefield. Bullet to the right femoral artery. Bled to death before anyone could get to him." The tone in her voice showed no hint of emotion, even though she was talking about the gruesome way in which her brother had died.
"A solider." Sherlock mused. "Interesting."
John was still slightly fuming as he glanced back and forth between Sherlock and Ariel. Sherlock was sitting in deep thought, eyes closed. Ariel was drinking her tea and acting as if this was a grand tea party, that she wasn't sitting in the home of the worlds only consulting detective talking about her brothers death because it might have some bearing on how to save her own life. To be honest, John found it all a little overwhelming.
"Do you have any ideas, Mr. Holmes?" Ariel asked after a few minutes of silence.
"9, actually." Sherlock responded, giving no hint as to what they were.
"Would you care to share them?" Ariel asked cautiously over her tea after a long moment. Sherlock sighed and opened his eyes.
"The most likely conclusion is a hospital, but I am unsure how that relates to you." Sherlock sighed again. "What kind of activities did you or your brother do that involved a hospital?"
Ariel just stared at him. The wheels in her head were trying desperately to turn, to find grip, but they kept slipping. Finally, they found grip and her mind began racing at 100 miles an hour. A terrified expression glanced across her face for an instant as the thoughts clicked into place.
"Bedlam." Ariel whispered breathlessly.
"Sorry, what?" John asked, completely confused. It took Ariel a minute before she finally found her voice.
"Bedlam. Or Bethlem, as it is more properly called. It's a place where they treat," Ariel paused, swallowing hard, "the mentally ill."
Sherlock's head perked up a bit. What could that mean? What impact did it have on the riddle?
"You mean, the old hospital that was famous for its insane asylums?" John asked. Ariel simply nodded. She looked scared. John looked over at Sherlock, but his eyes were closed and his head was tilted back, thinking. The silence closed in around them, a dark cloak hiding the truth. John stared at Ariel, who sat in her chair frozen with fear.
"What does that mean to you? Bethlem, I mean?" John finally asked Ariel. Ariel forced herself to smile, calmed her nerves and answered.
"When I was a little girl, my aunt worked at Bethlem." Ariel spoke. "She called it "Bedlam", which means uproar and confusion. She took me there, serval times, when I was little. We would walk down the halls and I would hear screams, shrieks and sobs. It still scares me."
Sherlock made a little laugh-like noise. John ignored him for the time being.
"Why do think the killer would want to bring up bad childhood memories?" John asked Ariel.
"I don't know." Ariel answered, "But I do remember one time, going to Bethlem with my aunt and she took me into the room of one of her patience. He... He really was crazy. He told me that if he ever got out of there, he'd find me. He... He looked at me and told me that he'd kill me. Then he laughed so hard, I thought he was just joking, so I laughed with him... You don't think...?" Ariel trailed off. Sherlock's eyes fluttered open.
"Yes. And I think I know how to find him." He said, pushing himself out of the chair.
"But... But we solved the riddle. Didn't we? He won't kill her now, will he?" John asked in desperation as Sherlock hurriedly put his coat on. John was on his feet and Ariel was right behind him. Somedays John really wished Sherlocks brain would slow down, just a bit.
"We did. But we don't want him to get away!" Sherlock yelled as he headed down the stairs.
"Bloody hell." John muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket and chasing after Sherlock.
"Never boring, is it?" Ariel asked, right on Johns heels.
"Never." John replied, slightly out of breath.
They heard Sherlock yell "Taxi!" as they exited 221b Baker Street. Luckily, Sherlock had waited for them in the cab.
"Hurry up!" He yelled impatiently. John tried to retain his gentlemanly status by helping Ariel into the waiting cab. Sherlock turned to the cabbie and said:
"Scotland Yard, please. And step on it."
