Chapter 3

Sherlock liked the darkness of the sitting room. As he lay there in his pyjamas pondering, the rest of London was sensibly sleeping. How long he'd been there he wasn't sure, John had gone to bed and he had replaced his nicotine patches before reclining on the sofa. A few questions were going round his mind as his circles of deduction were growing wider.

Why had Jennifer Mumby not discovered Peter had disappeared?

Had the killer lured Jennifer to the toilets?

If so, how had the killer got in and out of the toilets without attracting attention?

The answer to the first question he was not certain of yet; for the other two questions he had strong suspicions. If Jennifer had still believed Peter to be alive, then the killer could have easily texted her to meet him. Why a public toilet? Perhaps they were into sex in public places… And afterwards all the killer had needed was to delete the message from her phone. Then there had been the previous message about the skirt, luring Jennifer into a false sense of security. Sherlock felt it was likely that whoever the murderer was must have been impersonating a woman, or was a woman. How else could they have come and gone without arousing suspicion?

Now another question posed itself…

Who hated this couple enough to want to kill them?

It was clear to Sherlock that this other life they led was a secret. They met, found communion in their gender swapping or cross dressing and indulged in casual sex together. But could it be they forged an emotional tie between them? It was here Sherlock neither understood nor needed to care about how these two had come together. What he needed was either another clue or another murder to enable him to cast a wider net of deduction.

"Jesus Christ!" John yelled as he walked in bleary eyed, nearly jumping out of his skin. Sherlock's lolling in the dark had completely startled him. He was shuddering all over as he leant against the doorframe. But the more he shuddered the more he was annoyed at himself for being startled.

John moved to switch the main light on.

"Don't," Sherlock ordered quietly. "I appear to have startled you."

"Just a bit, yes."

"You didn't imagine I'd be tucked up in bed did you?"

"I was hoping you'd started to practise thinking in your bed, rather than lurking in the dark."

"Lying here is not lurking, John."

John sat himself down in a chair and turned on a lamp. Sherlock's eyes winced as the small amount of light invaded his retina and he blinked several times.

"I don't fancy sitting in the dark for a chat; it's too creepy for my liking," John said.

Sherlock chuckled. "Does talking to me in the dark scare you?"

"It's usual to be able to see someone when you spoke to them. So, any epiphanies?"

"A few thoughts," Sherlock replied quietly.

"And you're thinking that…"

"My gut instinct tells me there's more to this than merely murdering a couple of cross dressers."

"So you're predicting another murder?"

"There will be one; it's just a matter of waiting. Unfortunately, waiting is increasing my boredom," Sherlock said matter of factly.

"As usual, your compassion knows no bounds, Sherlock," John said and again there was silence for a while. Then he said, "That bar..."

"What about it?"

"Well I don't really see how Jennifer and Peter would have had chance to properly meet in there, even if it was just to hook up for sex. There's so many people and so much going on they've must have found each other another way."

"You're thinking the internet?"

"Yes."

"As usual, John you've mentioned a strong case of the probable and obvious."

"That woman, Anna. She seemed to know a fair bit about them; surely she would know how they met."

"Doubtful. She's only a bar maid, bar maids hear a lot of things but 99 percent of it is meaningless. Yet it makes them feel like they are providing a service," Sherlock said.

"I thought she seemed rather nice." John sighed.

"Well, you know where she works, though I think you would be lucky to catch her there."

"Why? She said she works there most nights."

"And pops out when they are at their busiest… with a customer." Sherlock replied in a tone that showed even mentioning Anna was incredibly tedious.

"So from that one sight of her you've got it in your head-"

"John, you must know me well enough to know I deduce people and circumstances very quickly. That entire bar is brimming with the need to release sexual tension. That doesn't exclude the bar staff."

"Aren't most bars and clubs?"

"I neither know nor care."

That was John's cue to drop the subject as Sherlock now turned on his side facing away from him. The pair of them were thinking, in fact thinking so hard it was a wonder the sounds of cogs turning did not wake Mrs Hudson.

"Blitz is probably just were the murderer targets his victims," John said.

"Bravo! Now if I were you, I'd go back to bed."

"Right." John got up and walked towards the door, but a cough from Sherlock made him return and switch off the lamp.

"Goodnight."

Sherlock remained on the sofa, now resting on his back again, and he spoke only one thing aloud into the dusty darkness that surrounded him.

"Where are you finding them?"