Chapter 2
Sherlock and John went to Lestrade's office the following day, where Sherlock related everything he had noticed at the victims' flats.
"I feel Peter Griffiths and Jennifer Mumby were connected in some way. There are traces of perfume in Jennifer's flat that was found in Peter Griffiths home."
"And both had objects or clothes belonging to the opposite sex," John said.
"We checked the phone records," Lestrade said. "Jennifer has made frequent calls to Peter Griffiths's home."
"Any texts?"
"Peter Griffiths's phone had several signed with a G and a kiss," Lestrade said. "I noticed some from a person called Bella on Jennifer's phone further down her inbox."
"So that would be B then, except the text I read was a different number," Sherlock said.
"Did Jennifer know of Peter's murder?" John asked.
"No, we only told his children and his ex-wife, not the general public. Until now that is. It wasn't easy to keep Jennifer's murder quiet, it being in a public toilet," Lestrade said.
"So she got a message from B, which presumably is Bella, just before her death?" John said.
"Yes," Sherlock said and then placed his hands on his head and closed his eyes.
"This makes no sense. Who is Bella?" Lestrade said.
"Then was she expecting to meet Peter Griffiths," John said to Sherlock.
"You're thinking too trivially," Sherlock said. "Perfume, clothes, both seemingly single, she wore men's deodorant, they'd been seeing each other, and presumably they went to Blitz together, things hidden in the bathroom..."
"We traced any links to Jennifer and found she was a regular gym goer, that's maybe why our murderer had problems attacking her," Lestrade said.
Sherlock's head jerked upwards and his eyes widened.
"He knows," John said, amused, whilst Lestrade looked blank.
"Why would a man have eye liner and perfume if he lived alone? If it was a woman's, she'd have taken it with her, Dior being quite expensive… Similarly the clothes in Jennifer's flat would have been a similar size to her…"
"What are you talking about?" Lestrade asked.
"Are you saying they were cross dressers, Sherlock?" John said.
"That's precisely what I'm saying. You're learning, John."
"Cross dressers!" Lestrade said. "I've heard it all now!"
"Bella was Peter's alter ego and G was presumably Jennifer's, which will be a man's name. And as they got closer, they likely became pet names. They weren't frightened of being themselves with each other," Sherlock said.
"But how would you go about meeting someone like that?" Lestrade butted in.
"Peter Griffiths visited Blitz."
"But you wouldn't drop into a conversation, 'Hi, I'm a cross dresser,' on a date in a bar," John said.
"That's exactly what they did, but not at the bar, somewhere else," Sherlock said. "Goodbye, Lestrade. I'll be in touch."
"What do you want me to do?" Lestrade asked.
Sherlock didn't answer but John just gave half a smile.
...
John was cooking pasta in the kitchen; the present murders were not his priority as his need for food took over.
"This looks rather good, Sherlock. You should eat," John said as he poked his head round the door. Sherlock was currently flopped on the sofa, deep in thought.
"No, thank you," Sherlock replied tensely.
"Suit yourself."
Several minutes passed and as John was serving up his food, Sherlock said.
"He's short."
"Who is?"
"Our murderer."
"What makes you say that?"
"Both our victims had been forced down before being killed, obviously strangling them or suffocating is difficult when they are standing," Sherlock said. "Peter Griffiths was quite tall and Jennifer was very physically fit."
"Could the murderer be a woman?"
"Maybe."
John moved to the vacant seat. He was pleased at last that he could have a rest and regain his energy. But Sherlock jumped up from the sofa and crossed the room briskly.
"Come on!"
"What?" John asked.
"I feel the need for some air."
"I'm eating!"
"You can get yourself a bag of crisps at the bar."
"What bar?"
"Blitz."
Sherlock shrugged on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck. John rubbed his eyes in disbelief, shocked that by now he wasn't used to Sherlock's erratic decisions.
"Can't it wait five minutes?" he pleaded.
He received no verbal answer, Sherlock moved to the door. The answer was loud and clear. With a heavy sigh, John banged his plate down on the table and grabbed his coat.
"Wait!"
...
There was something odd about the bar; John couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't a gay bar, nor did it seem steeped in criminal activity. But something about it wasn't like your usual bar. Plus there was a Rocky Horror night on which just topped it off for John.
"Does this place feel odd to you?"
Sherlock didn't answer, instead he nonchalantly scanned the room. John laughed to himself.
"No doubt all places like this feel odd to you," John continued. "It's very strange seeing so many Frank N Furters in here."
"A beehive for the likes of our victims."
"That's a bit general."
"John, you are thinking something similar," Sherlock replied wryly and he headed to the bar. The dress code was extended to the bar staff and soon a young woman with backcombed blonde hair and heavy makeup came over to them.
"What can I get you?" she said.
"I'd like a pint, please," John asked politely.
"Are there often nights like this held here?" Sherlock asked.
"What, themes you mean? Yeah, pretty often," she replied. "Take it you're new, either that or under that coat you're wearing stockings and suspenders… but you look a bit straight laced for that."
John was surprised when the woman winked at Sherlock and in turn Sherlock adopted one of his 'personas' to gain information.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he replied.
"So, two pints, sweetie?" she asked smiling.
"Yes, please." Sherlock half-smiled back. "What's your name?"
"Anna. And you?"
"Sherlock."
Anna looked at him incredulously a moment, then realising he was serious, she nodded.
"I see," she said. "And your friend?"
"John," John replied, and at this she looked more surprised.
"Sherlock and John… I expected something more…" She smiled again, broadly this time. It bypassed the heavy eyeliner and bouffant hair, and John noticed even if Sherlock didn't that she was quite pretty.
She fetched two glasses and began pulling their pints whilst all around throngs of Franks, Magentas, Rockys and co. drank, stumbled and danced the night away.
"I think we picked the wrong night," John said. "Then again I've never felt so normal and yet the odd one out at the same time. Mentally you probably feel right at home."
"It's the perfect place to blend in."
"Yeah, if you're into this type of thing."
"Indeed."
Anna returned with their pints and there was a pause. Sherlock looked at John until John took out his wallet and paid reluctantly, giving Sherlock a flat look.
"Do you work here often?"
"Most nights, why?"
"I was recommended to come here by a friend," Sherlock said.
"Oh, who?"
"Jennifer Mumby. Do you know her?"
"'Course, though she's G in here."
"G," Sherlock said with a laugh. "She told me only Peter called her that."
"No one from her circle knew her in here so she could be what she wanted. And if she wanted to be George, she'd be George."
"She was always quite shy about it, though. Wasn't she?" Sherlock said as though he had been staunch friends with Jennifer for twenty years.
"Not so much these days. Peter took longer to relax. He was never really Bella in public."
John watched as Sherlock's eyes subtly changed as he burned the information into his brain, but then looking sideways he noticed two over eye-linered women were gazing at him. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
"I'm just going to the bathroom, Sherlock."
John tried to slide unnoticed between the crowd, leaving Sherlock talking to Anna. He hoped nobody would stop him. The last thing he wanted was to be kidnapped by a Rocky.
"Your friend doesn't look like he wants to be here."
"He doesn't."
Anna smiled again though Sherlock's tone was completely unreadable now, but then looking about her, she noticed there were customers to be served.
"Sorry, nice to meet you Sherlock..."
"Did they have any other friends who came in here of a similar mind?"
"No… so tonight's not your lucky night, sweetheart," Anna said giving him a shrug. "Or who knows? Here anything's possible."
With that, she moved away from him to continue serving. Sherlock moved to a spare table in a darker corner where he could observe the bar undisturbed. The comings and goings of the fellow punters would have been interesting to some people, but Sherlock was only interested in anything connected to the investigation. He was certain this bar played a part somehow. John eventually returned and found him.
"That was the most terrifying trip to the men's room I've had," John said. He did look hot and flustered. "At least I hope it was the men's room."
"This is the place; our murderer has been here and I am sure he still comes here."
"Do you think this is the place where Jennifer and Peter met?" John asked.
"Possibly."
The pair sat for around fifteen minutes, and in that time Sherlock noticed Anna disappearing after an intense conversation with a male. Where they were going he could only guess and the desire to did not interest him at all. Just then his phone vibrated. H
Sherlock read the message. "Time to go," he announced as he got up from his seat.
John got up and followed, the churning demands of his stomach reminding him of his missed meal. But as ever he went where Sherlock led.