Curiosity

Chapter 4: Is this the part…

Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapters, I'm loving that you're loving my story. Keep reviewing, it makes me write faster lol.

Evie's POV


Lestrade was too annoyed with the whole conversation with Sherlock to listen to what I had to say, not that it bothered me. John however listened to me as we walked down the stairs and took off this annoying onesies.

"What makes you think it's going to be pink?" John asked.

"She color coordinates everything, John. I'm willing to bet money that the case is going to be pink." I said sliding on my coat.

"Really?" John smirked, "How much are you willing to bet?"

I returned the smile, "How's twenty pounds sound?" I challenged. It's all I had on me.

"Oh, you're on! Now they just have to find it." John slid on his coat.

"Hopefully it will turn up." I agreed. When John and I were ready to go, I looped arms with his good arm, then we headed out of the building. So far, we haven't seen Sherlock anywhere. Of course, the one person that happened to notice our lost expressions was Sally, but she was better than Anderson.

"He's gone." She said as we neared the police tape.

"Sherlock Holmes?" John asked.

"Yeah, he just took off. He does that." Was it just me, or did she sound way too bitter when it came to Sherlock?

"Is he coming back?" I asked, but even I doubted the possibility. He was way into the zone when he left. He's probably somewhere figuring out the case or who knows already solved it.

"Didn't look like it." She eyed me with disdain. I giggled internally, she figured out I was just messing with her about the white stuff on her lips.

"Right." John looked around, trying to figure something out. Sally turned away, back to the officer thinking she was done with us.

"Sorry, where are we?" John asked. I admired him for still using a polite tone, whereas I just wanted to smack her until her frizzy hair was straight.

"Brixton." She looked at him like he was stupid for asking.

"Do you know where we can get a cab? It's just a…well, my leg." John looked like he didn't want to mention his leg. He wasn't the type of man who wanted to admit he had a weakness. Or maybe he knew it was psychosomatic, but he still depended on the cane and still limped.

She lifted the tape for us, "Try the main road."

Both of us walked under it and we were ready to walk away when she called out to us, "You're not his friends. He doesn't have friends. And you're certainly not his girlfriend. So who are you?"

John stuttered, "I'm nobody. I just met him."

Sally looked at me, "I'm a librarian." I held my chin up. Wow Evie, three years of acting like a frightened rabbit and now you're growing a backbone. Well done, you didn't call yourself a nobody!

"Bit of advice then. Stay away from that guy." She said.

Without blinking John asked, "Why?"

"You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day showing up won't be enough. One day he'll be standing over the body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there." Sally was smirking the whole time.

"And why would he do that?" John asked.

"Because he's a psychopath. Psychopaths get bored." She answered like it was obvious.

I couldn't hold back the snort any longer, "Please forgive me if I don't take your advice."

"Excuse me?"

"First of all, your tuition is certainly lacking, you thought an obvious serial killing was serial suicides. It's not the first time a serial killer chose to use this method of killing. Secondly, I've met psychopaths. Sherlock isn't one."

Sally opened her mouth to retort but was called by someone. She walked away, but called again, "Stay away from Sherlock Holmes."

John and I walked several feet away before he asked, "How do you know psychopaths?"

I frowned, "It's one of those things, I'm not ready to talk about."

John nodded, "Has it anything to do with Liam's death?"

I swallowed, "It has everything to do with it and further back than that." John gave me a calculating look, "Don't worry; you're not in danger with being around me. The people responsible are gone."

"If you ever want to talk about it, you know I'm here for you, Evie." John offered.

"I've already told you more than I've told Mike in three years of knowing him." I admitted, "Thank you. I know I should talk about it, but…" It's hard to admit that my husband was murdered by my...

"I understand what you're getting at." He said, "And whenever you want to talk, I'll be here."

I smiled, "The same goes for you." John returned the smile and together we walked. After a few feet a payphone started to ring. We stared at it strangely for a moment, then started walking again. Behind me, I heard it stop ringing. I just shook my head and kept going.

No taxis seemed to be taking customers tonight, so we continued to walk until we found one. I was getting to the point that when I saw Sherlock again, I was going to rip out all of his beautiful curls.

We passed a chicken restaurant, the phone inside starting to ring as well. John and I stopped again to notice it. I wasn't bothered by that phone, it could just be someone placing a delivery, but John was suspicious of it. Just as a worker went to answer the phone, it stopped ringing.

"Come one, John. I'm starting to lose the feeling in my nose." I gently pulled on his arm.

"Alright…" He stared at the phone a moment longer before walking.

We stopped again, when a payphone several feet away from the restaurant started to ring. John went inside the booth and answered. I waited in the small doorway, "Who is it?" I asked.

I felt a new shiver go down my spine, not like the ones Sherlock gives me, but an icy chill, as I watched John look up at the cameras as they turned away. Please God, don't let it be like in that movie Phone Booth where you have to keep talking to the killer or you die!

John asked who the person was, but I don't think he got an answer. We watched two more cameras turn away from us. John looked at me, his face was an emotionless mask, but in his eyes I saw panic.

"John, what's going on?" I panicked.

"He wants us to get in the car." He replied.

"Who?" I asked.

"He didn't say. Don't worry; nothing is going to happen to you." John squeezed my hand. He looked so calm that I couldn't help but believe him. He was a soldier too, he could handle this. He's handled worse…right?

John climbed into the black car first, then me. He sat down by a pretty girl whose only eyes were on her phone. I sat across from him. My eyes darted all over the inside of the car, looking for any place that might conceal weapons. I wish I had Sherlock's nifty ability or maybe even Sherlock, I bet he'd be wonderful in a situation like this.

"Hello." John said to the girl. I didn't need Sherlock's ability to see that John was attracted to her. Ah, men…we could be killed in a few moments and all John thought about was a pretty girl.

"Hi." She looked up from her phone and smiled then looked back at her phone, then up at me, "Hello." She said. I just gave her a simple wave, then went back to panicking and looking around.

"What's your name, then?" John asked. I rolled my eyes as I felt as the edge of the seats, nothing. Damn! I wanted something that could be used as a weapon. I opened my bag, inside were books-I could smack the person? Loads of candy wrappers, I should really clean this thing out. My wallet, I couldn't bribe the person into sparing us, I only had twenty pounds. Ah, a nail file, I could always stab the person! But I doubted it would work, though I pocketed it none the less.

"Uh…Anthea." Liar, who needs to think that long about what their name is?

"Is that your real name?" John asked. Good, boy you weren't too distracted by her legs to miss that obvious little thing. In her defense, she did have great legs.

She giggled, "No."

John looked around, "I'm John."

She smiled at her phone, "Yes, I know. And that's Evangeline."

I froze, "How do you know our names?"

John asked like the calm I wish I could be, "Any point in asking where I'm going?"

"None at all, John, and you'll find out why when you get there, Evangeline."

"Evie." I bit out. She looked up at me, "Everyone calls me Evie."

Everyone but Sherlock Holmes to my great annoyance, why couldn't he just call me Evie? Oh, that's right, it sounds like a child's name. I liked Evie, it sounded cute. I told everyone to call me it; the only person I ever allowed or wanted to call me Evangeline was Liam. Well, he actually refused to call me Evie too. He said Evangeline was a beautiful name and so it should never be shortened. My bartender, he was always such a romantic.

"Evie." 'Anthea' repeated with a friendly smile. I didn't think she was a threat, but I didn't want to get close to her if she was.

After several nerve-wracking moments, we pulled into an abandoned warehouse. From up ahead I saw a singular man leaning on an umbrella. John stepped out first and turned to me. I was glued to the seat and paralyzed by fear. I was such a chicken, I remember three years ago when I was brave. I wish I was that way again.

"Evie, it will be alright." John said soothingly.

I nodded and moved out of the car, "Is this the part where we die?" I asked quietly in John's ear. My go to thing when I'm nervous or uncomfortable is humor.

"No, Evie. This isn't the part." John answered, fighting back a smile. That made me a little better right away.

We neared the man; he looked very much in charge. He had a good posture and an arrogant aura about him that I have only seen with Sherlock. He wore a nice expensive suit, even his umbrella looked expensive. The man screamed criminal mastermind.

"Have a seat, John, Evangeline." He pointed at the two chairs with his umbrella.

"You know I've got a phone. Very clever and all that, but uh, could just phone me… on my phone." John said, making me chuckle again. John made no action to sit down so neither did I.

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place. The leg must be hurting you. Sit down." This was about Sherlock?

"I don't want to sit down." John scowled.

"You don't seem very afraid like Ms. Evangeline there who clings to your arm." He said looking at the two of us.

"You don't seem very frightening." John retorted. John was making me feel braver; I loosened my grip on his arm somewhat and took a deep breath. I could do this, I've met scarier men.

The man threw back his head and laughed, "Yes, the bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" Did he just call John stupid? Oh no he didn't! Anger coursed through me and I glared at him clenching my jaw. My hold loosened a bit more on John's arm.

"What are your connections to Sherlock Holmes?" He asked, his voice filled with bite.

"I don't have one. I barely know him. We met him yesterday." John answered, thinking about it.

The man turned to me, "And yours, Evangeline?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "It's Evie and I don't see how that is any of your business." I snapped.

"Oh, feeling a bit braver aren't we?" He laughed, "I see why Sherlock likes you." The arsehole turned back to John, "Since yesterday, both of you moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week, Evangeline?"

I narrowed my eyes at him more, "Who are you?"

"An interested party." He replied, smirking at me. He knew he was getting under my skin.

It was John's turn to ask a question, "Interested in Sherlock, why? I'm guessing you're not friends."

"You've met him. How many friends do you imagine he has?" He said. I hate how people keep bringing up how Sherlock doesn't have friends. If he doesn't, he needs one, yupe, I've decided. I'm going to be Sherlock's friend…even if he drives me totally mad.

"I'm the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having." He said twiddling that stupid umbrella of his.

"And that would be?" I asked.

"An enemy." Immediately I got defensive. What if he tries to hurt us because we are around Sherlock? What if he tries to hurt Sherlock? I completely let go of John's arm and glared at him.

"An enemy?" John and I repeated.

"In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch enemy. He does love to be dramatic." I quirked a brow and lifted my arms indicated that he did bring us to a freaking warehouse in the middle of nowhere after reenacting a scene from Phone Booth.

John huffed, "Well, thank God, you're above all that." Then both of our phones received a text message, the text sound echoed throughout the building.

"I hope I'm not distracting you." The man said as we read the messages.

Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. –SH

I showed him my phone and he showed me his, they were the same message. How did Sherlock get my number?

"Not distracting me at all." John replied pocketing his phone.

"Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

John opened his mouth, but I answered instead, "Like I said earlier, I don't see how that's any of your concern."

The man narrowed his eyes at me, "It could be."

John shook his head, "It really couldn't."

He dug throughout his coat and pulled out a notebook, "If you really do move into," he glanced at the notebook's page, "221B Baker Street, I would be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to…ease your way."

"Why?" We asked again. John and I were really getting good at speaking at the same time. Some people might think we're related now. Except for the fact we look completely different.

"Because you're not a wealthy man and neither are you a wealthy woman." He put the notebook back into his coat.

"In exchange for what?" John asked.

"Information. Nothing indiscreet, nothing you'd feel uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to." The man smiled. I hated that smile, I really did.

I snarled, "Why?"

He didn't look to friendly back at me when he answered, "I worry about him, constantly." I scoffed, like I believe that. I think the only thing he worried about is if he's handkerchiefs were really silk.

"That's nice of you." John ignored it.

"But I prefer for various reasons that my concern would go unmentioned. We have what you might call a difficult relationship." He asked, looking at the tip of his umbrella.

Our phones dinged again. I dug mine out, again, it was from Sherlock. I laughed silently reading the message, then passed it to John. This time, he didn't even bother digging his phone out.

If inconvenient, come away. –SH

"No." John replied after reading the message.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure." The man wasn't shocked by our answer.

"We don't care. The answer is no." I shook my head.

He laughed again, "You're both very loyal, very quickly."

"No, I'm not. We're just not interested." John was holding wonderfully onto his temper and his morals. He earned so many points in my book.

The man pulled out his little notebook, "'Trust issues' it says here. Both of you have them."

John swallowed, "What's that?" Both of us looked at the book in anger and fear of what it had to say.

"Could it be that you decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?" the man flipped through the book.

"Who says I trust him?" John said, the slightest bit of panic leaked into his voice.

"Either of you seem like the kind of make friends easily. Especially you, Evangeline." He looked at a page that my name was written on at the top in fine writing.

I growled, "Are we done?"

He looked up, "You tell me."

I started to walk-no stomp off. John was right beside me. My temper flared big and I was starting to see red.

"I imagine people already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from her left hand that's not going to happen." The man stopped us. I had a feeling this time he was talking directly to John. If he spoke to me again, I think I'd shove that umbrella up his arse.

"My what?" John asked. A vein in his neck twitched, John was very close to exploding.

"Show me." The man smirked.

John stood motionless for a moment before holding up his empty hand. The man walked up and reached out of it, "Don't." John started to pull his hand away, but the look the man gave him stopped him. The look said, 'do you what to know what I meant by your hand'. Once again guessing.

The man held John's hand for a moment, then said, "Remarkable."

"What is?" John snipped.

"Most people blunder round this city and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk around with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield. You've seen it already, haven't you?" The man went on.

"What's wrong with my hand?" John asked.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service." I was liking this man less and less.

John was the same way, "Who the hell are you? How do you know that?"

"Fire her. She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. You're not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson. You miss it."

He leaned in and whispered, "Welcome back." Then he walked away, "Time to choose a side Dr. Watson, Ms. Evangeline." My phone chirped again, I dug it out.

Could be dangerous. –SH

Anthea walked up, still looking down at her phone, "I'm to take you home. Address?"

John and I answered at the same time, "221 Baker Street."


Sorry there wasn't any Sherlock, but don't worry he'll be in the next one.