Chapter 3
A Vital Clue
Disclaimer: I only own Ruby.
"This is my flat." Ruby spoke quietly, breaking the silence that had surrounded the three of them. Every time John had tried to make conversation, Sherlock had told him to shut up. He had sounded more and more annoyed, until John eventually gave up, and the taxi ride descended into stony silence.
Sherlock paid the cabbie, and in just under 5 minutes, the three of them were outside Ruby's flat. She unlocked the door, and they stepped into a pleasantly untidy living room. It was small, but not cramped - the furniture was spread out in such a way that the room appeared larger than it actually was. The walls were painted a deep red; akin to the colour of blood, Sherlock thought, and he would know. All of the furniture was dark - dark wood, dark leather, and hand-stitched cushions that matched the walls. There was a vast abundance of bookcases, crammed to the teeth with books, which Sherlock had expected - Ruby was a writer, after all. There was a large walnut desk in one corner, which was piled high with papers. Sherlock decided that, if he was going to find a clue to the identity of the mysterious letter-writer, that desk would be the place to look.
He went over to it, and immediately began to rifle through the drawers. "No, no, no…Miss Garcia, where do you keep your old letters?" he asked, shoving a whole stack of papers onto the floor with a small crash.
"My name is Ruby, please call me it, and I keep my old letters -well, the interesting ones anyway- in the top left drawer."
Sherlock only gave a grunt by way of thanks, and shifted his search to the drawer that he had been directed to.
"Sorry about him - he never talks when he's on a case, except to insult people, or to state the answer to a case, then go dashing off to solve the next." John said, smiling apologetically at Ruby.
"That's okay. I'm the same when I'm writing." Ruby smiled back. "Do either of you want some tea, or coffee?"
"I'll have some tea, thanks." John sat down on Ruby's sofa, and watched Sherlock continue to rifle through papers. It had only been a minute before he gave a great shout of delight, causing Ruby to drop the tea as she came in the room. It hit the floor with a crash, and she swore loudly. John, ever the gentleman, ran to help.
"Sherlock, you moron, next time try to contain your excitement! You've made Ruby break her mug!" John growled.
"Never mind that, I've found it!"
"Found what?" Ruby asked, curiously.
"A clue!" Sherlock looked delirious with excitement. John and Ruby both looked slightly mystified, so he gestured the both of them over to the sheet of paper in his hands.
"Look here. It's written in the same handwriting as the letter. " The paper he held in his hands was perfectly ordinary. It had only two words upon it, written in pencil:
The restaurant.
"What does it mean?" inquired John. Ruby had gone very white. She let out a small, barely audible moan. "Oh, god. He -oh god- he…"
"…Is going to be at your date tonight." Sherlock finished, "Which gives us ample opportunity to catch him in the act!" He had a wild gleam in his eyes, and he looked far too exited. Ruby was on the verge of fainting. John gently help her over too the sofa. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." he said softly.
"Yes, it will. Ruby, I will text you some instructions for the evening." Sherlock said, flicking up his shirt collar. "Meanwhile, John, I need you to try on some of Mary's dresses…"
"WHAT?!"
A/N: Hello again my wonderful readers! Just a short one this time. I am writing Chapter 4 at present, and will upload when I'm done. Please, Please review/follow/favorite, and I will see you next time! Bye!
