Stephenie, Sherlock and John, once again, sat in contemplative silence for what, John felt, was hours. It was only 15 minutes, but it felt longer. Much longer. John looks at his watch and swears. He starts patting himself down, looking for his mobile.
"Sherlock, have you seen -"
Sherlock cuts him off by holding the missing phone out to the doctor. John grabs his phone and sends Sherlock his best glare, to which the consulting detective merely smiles. John starts thumbing through his contacts, a small grimace settling on his face when he finds the one he was looking for. Just as he was about to press the green call button, a smooth voice piped up.
"I wouldn't bother, doctor. Would be a waste of your time"
John looks up, surprised. He finds Stephenie looking bored while studying her pristine manicured finger nails.
"I'm sorry? What would be a waste of my time? And you don't even know who I'm calling"
She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at John's childish tone, and smiles.
"You looked at your watch and swore. Means you're late for something. When Mr Holmes gave you your phone, you seemed slightly disgruntled at the lack of messages and or missed calls. Means you're supposed to be meeting someone and are surprised they have not yet contacted you to find out your whereabouts. From the amount of time it took you to scroll to their number and the face you pulled when you found it, I'm guessing Sarah." She pauses and looks at him; taking the confirmation she's after from his stunned expression and continues, looking away and sounding bored again.
"Don't bother. She forgot you had made plans. She's made other arrangements and is currently a bit, tied up shall we say, and so wouldn't be able to answer your pathetically apologetic call."
"Brilliant." John breathes, earning a sharp look from Sherlock. "I mean, obviously not the fact that you just implied my girlfriend is cheating on me, and the rather obvious insult. But the deduction thing. That was brilliant."
Stephenie looks shocked at John's admission. Sherlock just looks pissed.
"That's my thing" he says, the petulant air making a comeback.
"Really Sherlock" Stephenie chides, rolling her eyes and smiling slightly, "it's like you've never met anyone nearly as brilliant as you. And please note that I said nearly. I make no claims to be as good as you."
She stands and goes to the window, her smile falling and her body becoming more rigid.
"I'm afraid I must be off, gentlemen." she says, spinning away from the window. She strides to the door and picks up her handbag. She turns and gives a warm smile to the two stunned faces looking at her.
"It was lovely to meet you both" and with that, she turns and walks from the flat.
"Wait!" John calls after her, causing her to pause on her descent of the stairs. She turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. "She really is too much like Sherlock" he thinks.
"If you want us to help you, you can't just leave" he moans at her, "how are we supposed to know what needs doing? Not all of us are mind readers, you know."
She laughs, a noise John thinks he could get used to hearing.
"I will contact you again when it is possible" she says, turning back to continue walking down the stairs, "Don't worry Doctor Watson" she calls up, "You'll both be seeing me again, very soon." And with that she's gone from 221b, the door closed gently behind her.
When John goes back into the living room, he notices Sherlock standing by the window, watching Stephenie get into a sleek black car with private number plates that, even from that distance, he can tell get changed frequently.
"I don't trust her" he mutters into the curtain.
John scoffs, "Of course you don't. I mean, why would you? She's beautiful, talented, smart and just as brilliant as you."
At the last statement, Sherlock spins and starts stalking towards John, his voice low and dangerous as he speaks.
"Nobody is as brilliant as me John, you are just easily fooled. All of those deductions were obvious to anyone with a brain." He waves his hand towards John and collapses onto "his" sofa. "No, I don't trust her because something doesn't add up. But I can't see it! She's hiding something and I can't work out what!" He lets out a frustrated growl and pulls on his hair.
"Sherlock?" John asks quietly. When he receives a grunt, he knows his troubled friend is listening, so he carries on.
"Sherlock, who did you kill? Who was Stephenie's husband?"
Sherlock twists his head on the arm of the sofa and studies John's face. He turns back to stare at the ceiling, sighing while rubbing his face with his hands.
"I don't know" comes the soft, regretful reply, "I don't have any idea. I can see nothing on her person to indicate who she is or whom she may have been married to. She has a very faint tan line where her ring used to be, which means she took it off as soon as she learned of his death. The way she walks and talks shows she is well educated. She said she met him while in Ireland visiting family. So she's Irish, or at least partly. But she has no hint of Irish in her voice, so she has spent most of her life in England. Her husband could have also been Irish. Explains what attracted Moriarty to him. If he was as clever as she states, I doubt our dear friend Jim would have been able to resist another clever Irish guy." Sherlock pauses, sits up and takes the cup of tea being offered to him.
"Her voice" he mutters into his cup. John looks at him as he settles into the chair Stephenie recently vacated.
"Huh? Did you say something?" he asks, not really expecting a reply. He was used to the Consulting Detective ignoring him while he was trying to work something out. However, this time Sherlock deigned to respond.
"John," Sherlock looks at him, eyes alight with the joy only a good puzzle can bring, "where would you say our new friend is from? Going only by her accent"
John looks at his friend, opens his mouth to answer, frowns and closes it again with a rush of air escaping between his lips. His frown deepens as he looks at the wall, as if the answer is written there.
"You know, I don't actually know" he says, disappointed that he couldn't give his friend a better answer.
"Exactly" Sherlock exclaims, jumping from his seat, "she has no definable accent, which means she either moved around a lot as a child, and possibly as an adult as well. Or she has taught herself to not give it away. My money is on the first option."
John watches as Sherlock paces, waiting for him to elaborate. When he doesn't, John sighs and decides he might as well make himself sound as dumb as he felt.
"Why?"
Sherlock stops pacing and throws a confused look in John's direction. The doctor sighs and continues.
"Why the first option? How do you know she hasn't just trained herself?"
Sherlock looks disappointed. "Was probably hoping for a less dull question" John thinks to himself. He watches as Sherlock continues his pacing, wondering if he's going to get an answer to his question.
After a few more laps of the living room, Sherlock's voice fills the room once more.
"She hasn't trained her voice not to show any possible accent. Even people who have spent decades training their voices still have a few words or phrases that they can't stop from slipping into their native accent for. Stephenie, however, didn't. Her entire speeches were done in the same tone. Same accent."
"So?" John asks, "She said her father was in the army and that she had contacts from all over the world. Perhaps she just wasn't in one place long enough to pick up the local accent." John shrugs as he finishes talking. He looks at Sherlock, who is giving the doctor his "don't-be-an-idiot" look.
"Really John? You are an army man yourself. How long is the shortest tour possible?"
John sits back to think.
"Yes, ok. The shortest tour I can think of, off the top of my head is 6 months, but that's only after you've served at least one full tour" He looks back to Sherlock, realisation dawning on his face, "But most people would pick up an accent in a month or 2 if they were in an English speaking country"
Sherlock gives John one of his real smiles, showing John that he was proud of him for working it out. John nods to himself and looks at the floor before talking again.
"Sherlock?"
"Hmm?"
"Why is her accent so important?"
Sherlock stops pacing, spins around with his mouth open, closes it and looks at John.
"There is a reason. A very good reason"
John looked at him pointedly
"Which is?"
"I'm not sure yet. But there is one!"
The end of the sentence came as a shout over the detectives shoulder as Sherlock dashes out the door of 221b and onto the streets of London
"Do you think he will help?"
Stephenie sighs and looks out the window of her car.
"I don't know Lucy, I really don't. I pray he does, as if he doesn't, I don't want to think about what is going to happen"
The rest of their journey was spent in a tense and uncomfortable silence as Stephenie tried hard not to think about what Moriarty's men would do to her if they knew what she was planning. Lucy spent the journey watching Stephenie, with tears in her eyes and sending a silent prayer to the two men who now held her sisters life in their un-knowing hands.
A/N
Hey guys. I'm so sorry for the delay. Real life got in the way. I hope this chapter is worth it. I'm going to begin typing up chapter 5 now and will get on with writing chapter 6 asap. Thank you so much for the reviews, really appreciate them!
