Me: (listening to Queen) Hey guys. Ready for the next chapter? Oh, by the way: last chapter, I added that whole illusion thing is because: one, I love Skyrim. Second, especially the Dark Brotherhood. If you, the reader, haven't played, I'm sorry for the slight spoilers with it. But, killing people in Skyrim is fun and it involves...murders!
Sherlock: Did you say murder?
Me: Yes, I did. If you wanna play assassin in the game, go ahead. (turns on the console)
Sherlock: No. I want to play real murder.
Me: No, Sherlock.
Sherlock: John!
Watson: Yes, Sherlock?
Sherlock: I wanna play murder...
Me: (sighs) Here's our chapter.
The very next day, Sherlock contacted Icefire Security offices. He was ready to deal with the sick, serial killer. The other line spoke a male, precise tone and strong voice.
"Good morning, this is Icefire Security services. How may I help you today?" the male voice asked as if he was really working there.
"Sounds like he had enough of dealing with customer services with this company," Sherlock mentally deduced.
"Yes, I would like to contact your supervisor for some 'help' and like to speak with her privately," Sherlock requested starkly. He knew this would get the man to contact the upper chain of command.
"I'm sorry, sir, but our supervisor is out and been out for a while. If you would like, I can contact her when she gets back. Just leave a name and number. I'll get it to her as soon as she gets back," the service representative replied cooly.
Sherlock smirked at this because most likely the killer is out and making her kills. This case is becoming a cake walk for all the wasted effort and deductions that he's already placed. Now, he can put away this killer for life on those nine counts of murder.
"Sherlock Holmes," he replied and tied his number with the male representative.
"Got it. I'll call you back as she returns. Goodbye," ending the conversation.
As the male representative got the name and number, it cycled through the system straight to the Greniville Manor. The name and number got tied to the woman behind her desk. This time, the woman was dressed in black leggings, white button down, and black heels. Her hair pulled into a loose bun, dyed brown recently. She goes through files, paperwork, etc. Her fancied up pen that she got from her mother before she passed away from cancer. It was definitely a sentimental gift. Then, one of her secretaries, by the name of Anna, walked in.
Anna is a fiery red haired woman by the age of thirty two and dressed for success. She had a body of curved wonder, brown eyes of chocolates, and wore a black jacket, black pen skirt, and red shirt. Pearl earrings, pearl necklace, and a wedding band on her finger. She was a bright woman and very respectful with her supervisor and clients. She held her new clients' names and numbers' folder.
"Ma'am, are you busy?" Anna asked before she entered the office, knocked on the cherry wood door. The house was exquisite however for a strong company.
"Not much going on, Anna. Come in," the woman replied in the office, sounding cheerful.
Anna entered into the office, smiling wryly. In the office, it had a paint scheme of golds and oranges on the walls. A billiard table with cues on the rack, hanging is a stain glass light of blues, greens, and purples. Her desk is the same cherry wood and designed in sixteeneth century french trim. Behind her mahogany desk chair is a dragon head carved out of oak and mounted on a shield frame. Its eyes were replaced with painted, golden marbles. Two other chairs with the matching set of the desk chair and a dry bar by the french windows with all kinds of brandy and other liquors.
"Ma'am, here's your new clientele list of the month," Anna handed over the file, holding her breath from the last few incidents with her clients.
The woman accepted the clientele list, she opens and reads the names and numbers. She grinned, then took out her pen and circled a name and number specifically. She also added a time of when she wants to meet with this client. She handed the file back to Anna.
"Anna, get me Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in my office today. The time is on the file and call him back to let him know. And one more thing..." the woman ordered calmly. She's been needing to get his attention for a while and now, it is going to happen today.
"Yes, ma'am?" Anna wondered, scared that she might've messed something up.
"Good job," the woman concluded.
By noon, John was in the living room, eating lunch of a sandwich. He was dressed in his jacket, a normal white and blue shirt, jeans, and shoes. Sherlock, as usual, doesn't partake in eating much. He sat in his chair, discussing this case that seemed to be easy.
"This case is unbelievably easy and too boring to solve. It was slightly interesting with this serial killer, but leaving fire and ice roses every time with its victim is just plain stupid," Sherlock said, still scanning that file and note.
"What's this note, Sherlock?" John asked before he took his bite of the sandwich.
"Apparently, our little killer wants to play games with me now. It seems she's only got enough time before she strikes again. I still don't like riddles all that much."
John takes a look at the note and reads it aloud: "what is life's greatest illusion?"
Sherlock sat for a moment with his leg crossed and hands folded together, kept pondering the illusions. His mind was in full gear to deciphering the message that was left for him. In twenty four hours, he knew he would be confronted by the killer. He became lost in his thinking and deductions until his phone rang, interrupting his thought. It was a an unknown number.
"Hello, this is Anna. I am calling you on behalf of our company that our supervisor is in and she would be glad to meet you this afternoon at two o'clock," the secretary on the other line. She sounded rather friendly.
"Thank you, Anna. I'll be there at two," Sherlock concluded, then hung up.
"Guess our killer wants to meet her early," John said with a chuckle. He knew that he wasn't gonna let Sherlock go against someone that would actually kill him again. He was going to stick by his side until the very end.
By 1:45pm, they arrive at the gate with a security guard at the front. The guard dressed in its uniform of a white shirt, black slacks, black leather shoes, badge, walkie, and cap.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Here for an appointment?" the guard asked. He had a good disposition as Sherlock scanned him over.
Uniform in good condition. Keeps himself cleaned for his job. Married happily. Two kids. Three dogs, preferably two Labradors and one retriever.
"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. We have an appointment with the boss," Sherlock answered. The guard nods, reads the appointment list, then goes to open the gate.
"Go on ahead. Anna will be meeting you up. She's the secretary," the guard informed.
Sherlock and John walk into the estate, watching and scanning all around. The lawns finely manicured, asphalt road paved perfectly, peach rose bushes laid out around the manor. A white swing bench on one of the lawns. On the porch, a woman with red hair and dressed professionally waited for the gentlemen arrived. She smiled and greeted, "good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm-"
"Anna. I know how you are. The secretary that happens to cheating on your husband, frightened of your boss, and you wish to get away from here," Sherlock deduced quickly.
"Excuse me?" Anna retorted.
"You put on your make up quickly this morning, along with the fact that you probably have a cat. You also are married, but you also happen to take off your wedding band quite a bit with the condition of your ring since it's mostly dirty on the outside and clean on the inside. You bite your nails out of anxiousness whenever you are here."
Anna's lips pouted a little with hint of angered eyes and mutters, "I was going to be polite, but one upping me is enough too, jerk."
She leads them to the large office where they meet the woman of it all. The billiard room. Sherlock studied the room closely, sure signs that she was rich and enjoying the finer things. The woman dressed semi casual cracks the cue against the striped ball into the pocket.
"Ma'am, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are here to see you," Anna announced.
The woman looks up, she smiles, then comes over. She sticks her hand out for a handshake, "Primrose. Primrose Gallus."
"American."
John shook hands with Primrose, he nods with a small smile, "Dr. John Watson. Pleasure."
Primrose looks up to Sherlock, then she shakes hand with Sherlock, "Sherlock Holmes, I presume."
"Good to meet you. Now, I have questions about you," Sherlock stated.
"Alright. Go and have a seat, guys. We can discuss this in a diplomatic manner."
Sherlock and John takes there seats behind the desk, watching intently of Primrose.
"Relaxed and easy going, works out quite a bit, married happily, mother's ring on chained necklace, passed away, studied engineering and medicine, clients pay real good, not much one for sitting behind this desk, but does anyway and built this company greatly. Loyal. Marine of four years, mostly intelligence work. Military brat. Always wanting to do business. Good etiquette. Doesn't splurge as much. Fond of dragons and cutlery, preferably medieval. Big billiard player. Owns a dog, husky wolf hybrid."
"I guess you do your deductions in order for you to know someone?" Primrose asked.
"How'd you know that?" John asked quizzically, his eyes lit up in some surprise.
"I know these things. Especially if you try and sell or hire bodyguards. You gotta have the smarts for these things, even behavior as well."
"Very true. How long have you been in the business?"
"Six years. I have three homes in the world. I served in the Marines with intel for four years. I've traveled places. I continued my studies until I couldn't anymore in medicine due to the lack of funds and amount of loans. I was born in Denver, Colorado in August of 1988. I have dual citizenship here and the United States. Want anything, guys?" Primrose pulls out a cigarette and lights up, she puffs.
Sherlock looks at the cigarette, he inhales at the sight and itching for one right now.
"Primrose, do you mind if I have one?" he asked, trying to keep cool.
"Not at all. Need a pack?" she asked cooly, smiles a little. She pulls one out, then hands him a pack and a lighter.
"Thank you, Primrose."
"Not a problem. Ah, John, you need anything? Beverage? Cigarette? Anything?"
"Coffee's good," John answered.
"Alright, Bartholomew!"
The butler rushed in, looking at Primrose, "yes, ma'am?"
"Could you bring Mr. Watson a cup of coffee? Black?"
"Black," John requested.
"Right away, sir," the servant nods and heads out.
"Right, back to us. What questions do you have?" Primrose opened up.
"You know anything of those murders?" Sherlock asked, looking intrigued.
"Oh, those murders. I know they were my clients. They paid me quite well and respected me. They were great people. They just wanted security while we wanted ensure the safety of others. I can't believe it when our first client passed away. In case you guys would ask, I am not affiliated with the murders what so ever. If anything with this interview, I can provide you with the books, interviews, phone calls, and whatever you guys need."
Sherlock lit up his cigarette and puffed, "thank you for all the credibility that you can provide for us-"
"Look, fellas. I need your help. I wanted to employ your services if that's okay," she said.
Sherlock looked at Primrose interested. He knew that he caught his killer.
"I wanted to hire you guys because of these murders. I'm losing more clients than gaining due to those murders. Then, next of all: heads will turn and I'm accused of those murders. I had to shut down and select a very few amount of visiting clients every few weeks. It's just getting worse. I've gotten some threats from other people and few people want to hire me still. Please. I can compensate for anything that you guys would need. Money, hospital bills, supplies, clearance, I got it all. Just please. Clear my name. I'll also give both of you pay of a large amount of cash for this. Pounds and quids are no issue over here with us."
The door opens, a man dressed in the ebony uniform, black and gold pants, service cap on his left hand, and decorations all over them as a United States Army Lieutenant of a one stripe. His sharp face with brown eyes, a shaved head, his hat on his side. He walks in and then, back out.
"Sorry, fellas. My husband, Alec, just came home. Hope you understand. I hope we can conclude this meeting on a bright note. I'll give you my cell number just in case of emergencies on this case. I appreciate your time. Thank you, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. I hope we can really work together on this case," she rises from her chair and so do the guys. She shakes their hands, then escorts them out the door. As they walked out, John asks, "you believe her?"
"She speaks the truth. She isn't lying of what she was saying. She rolled real well. She offered evidence of the case and her name wants to be cleared," Sherlock deducted and puffed.
Then, Sherlock's phone chimed in text message, it was Mycroft.
"Have you been to Greniville yet? -M"
"Who is it?" John asked, interested.
"It's Mycroft. He's asking if we got here. He really is asking if we are at Greniville," Sherlock huffed, not too delighted to even hear from his older brother.
"Why would he want to ask it?" John asked, eyebrows slightly scrunched.
"I don't know," Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, then continued on the way out of the estate.
Me: I wanted to make this longer of a chapter and finally get the name out. Primrose. I know it sounds like a Hunger Games thing, but no. And Gallus comes from, you guessed it, Skyrim. Gallus was the name of the Thieves Guild leader and fellow Nightingale before he was killed. I actually like him, even if he played a small role.
Sherlock: You play too many video games.
Me: You play too much murder.
Sherlock: At least I make money.
Me: I'm still getting smarter and I have some medical knowledge too. My brain still has not rot yet.
Watson: Do you have training?
Me: Somewhat. I'm still learning.
Watson: Keep doing what you're doing.
Me: Thanks, John.