Curiosity

Chapter 6: A Terrible Cabbie

Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter. I love reading what you think.

Evie's POV

We ran all the way back to Baker Street, we only took a break once we were in the hallway with the door locked. I leaned against the wall beside Sherlock and John once again trying to get control of my breathing. My body burned worse than it did after we ran after the cab. We weren't even being chased but we still ran. I hated running, but never before have I felt so alive.

"That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." John breathed.

"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock commented, making John and me chuckle breathlessly. He joined in and it sounded genuine.

John breathed, "That wasn't just me. Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

Sherlock waved the notion away, "Oh, they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway."

"So what were we doing there?" I asked.

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Oh, just passing the time and proving a point."

"What point?" John asked.

"You." Sherlock said then called, "Mrs. Hudson, Dr. Watson and Ms. Murphy will be taking the upstairs bedrooms."

"Says who?" John asked.

"Says the man at the door." Sherlock smirked. Not a second later, someone knocked at the door. John left to go answer it and I stood there beside Sherlock.

"So all of that was to prove John's leg was psychosomatic?" I asked.

Sherlock smiled, "That and to prove a point about you?"

"What point?" I asked. Sherlock's smile widened but he didn't answer. I figured I wasn't getting any answers from him so I changed the subject, "You owe me a desert by the way. I wasn't able to eat my cheesecake before we ran after that cab."

Sherlock didn't say a word as he smiled down at me. It was started to unnerve me, but John came in clutching his cane and a white Togo box.

"Um…Angelo told me to give this to you." John handed it over. I opened the lid to find my untouched cheesecake that I was so excited about eating.

I looked up at Sherlock with a smile, "You texted him telling to bring it, didn't you?"

Sherlock shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

I nodded my head slowly, "Uh-huh."

Mrs. Hudson appeared around the corner shaking like a leaf, "Sherlock, what have you done?"

"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked, concerned. There was no way he was faking it.

"Upstairs." She managed to get out before Sherlock and John took off.

"Mrs. Hudson, are you alright?" I asked, I wrapped my arm around her thin shoulders.

"Yes, dear, I'm fine." She still shook.

"Go drink some tea. It will calm your nerves; I'm going to figure out what's going on." I said. I took off running up the stairs bursting into the living room to hear, "What are you doing?"

Sherlock marched right up to Lestrade, who was sitting in his chair. All around the room, people are going through boxes and in the kitchen. What on earth was going on?

"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid." Lestrade pointed to the pink case.

"You can't just break into my flat." Sherlock snapped.

"You can't withhold evidence." Lestrade countered, "And I didn't break into your flat."

"Well, what do you call this, then?" Sherlock threw his arms out, gesturing to all the people going through his stuff.

"It's a drugs bust." Lestrade replied.

I snorted and John chuckled, "Seriously? This guy, a junkie? Have you met him?"

Sherlock walked over, "John." I didn't like how this was going. I could only look at Sherlock in disappointment.

"I'm sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational." John defended.

Sherlock leaned closer to John, "John, you probably want you to shut up now?"

"Yea, but come on…" John looked at him. The look Sherlock gave him said everything.

"You…" I said, I actually felt hurt. I sounded hurt. John and Sherlock looked at me, "You actually do drugs?" I don't know why I was disappointed but I was.

Sherlock looked away and back at John. John was still coming to grips with it, "You?"

Sherlock scowled, "Shut up!" He turned to Lestrade, "I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No, Anderson's my sniffer dog." Lestrade said.

"What? Anderson?" Sherlock asked.

From out of the kitchen, weasel faced Anderson appeared and gave Sherlock an angry wave. He saw me and winked. I did the most lady-like thing a woman could or should do; I made an audible gag noise.

"Anderson, what are you doing on a drugs bust?" Sherlock questioned. He walked in front of me blocking Anderson from my view.

"Oh, I volunteered." Anderson replied. He was lucky Sherlock was in my way and had several police officers around. I was about ready to stomp his weasely little face.

"They all did." Lestrade explained, "They're not, strictly speaking, on the drugs keen, but they're very keen."

To make everything better, Sally appeared holding a jar of eyeballs, "Are these human eyes?"

"Put those back." Sherlock ordered.

"They were in the microwave." She said disgusted.

"It's an experiment." Sherlock snarled. What could he figure out by keeping eyeballs in a microwave…nevermind I don't what to know.

"Keep looking, guys." Lestrade ordered, "Or you could start helping us properly and I'll make them stand down."

Sherlock was pacing back and forth furiously, "This is childish."

Lestrade retorted, "Well, I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?"

"So you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?" Sherlock snapped.

"It stops being pretend if they find anything." Lestrade informed him.

"I am clean." Sherlock growled.

"Is your flat, all of it?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock rolled up his sleeve to show up nicotine patches, "I don't even smoke."

"Neither do I." Lestrade rolled up his sleeve which relieved similar patches, "So let's work together."

"After all this, I'm going to need one." I said, running my fingers through my hair. I smoked a little bit while married to Liam and a lot the year following his death. I stopped only last year, though smoking has never been addictive for me. My only addiction has ever been sugar.

John looked at me shocked, "You smoke?"

"When I stressed." I shrugged which seemed to happen more and more since started to know Sherlock.

Sherlock and John weren't even paying attention, "We found Rachel."

"Who is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name, why?" Sherlock thought.

Anderson spoke up, "Never mind that, we found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath."

Sherlock jerked his head to look at Anderson, "I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high functioning sociopath. Do your research." Sherlock turned back to Lestrade.

Anderson grumbled, "You're nothing more than a freak." Sherlock and Lestrade didn't hear it, but I did.

I turned to Anderson with my hand on my hip and head tilted to the side with a flirty smile, "Anderson?"

"Yes?" He smiled.

My face turned dark, "Shut your ugly weasel face before I use Sherlock's stitching kit to shut it for you." I snarled.

I didn't realize that everyone could hear me, but I could care less. Sherlock watched in confusion but I saw one corner of his lips lift into a smile. It was the tiniest smile, but it reached his eyes.

"Did you just threaten an officer?" Sally asked.

"There's enough stitching for you too." I didn't even look at her. I looked at Lestrade with my head held high. He only shook his head then they got back to the conversation.

"You need to bring Rachel in and you need to question her. I need to question her." Sherlock said.

"She's dead." Lestrade informed.

"Excellent. How, when, and why?" Sherlock spouted off. I looked at him shocked, did he just say a girl's death was excellent.

"Is there a connection? There has to be." Sherlock exclaimed.

"I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically, she's was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter fourteen years ago." Lestrade explained. I frowned and shuffled my feet. I felt for that poor woman, to lose your child before you could have those memories. Liam and I never had the chance to have children; we talked about it and wanted them.

"That's not right." Sherlock turned away from Lestrade, How…why would she do that? Why?"

Anderson had to speak, "Why would she think about her daughter in her last moments? Yeah, sociopath, I can see it now." I threw Anderson a look saying 'one more word, I dare you'.

Sherlock threw him a look too, "She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort, it would have hurt."

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used her death of her daughter somehow." John theorized.

I nodded, I could see that, killers have done it before, "He used her worse moment and got her to kill herself. He could have done it with all the others." Sherlock was pacing back and forth again scratching his head trying to think.

"Yea, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?" Sherlock asked harshly. In that moment, I knew Sherlock would never understand if I told him about Liam. He'd probably think I was stupid or childish to want to hold on.

Everyone in the flat stopped what they were doing and stared at Sherlock. Sherlock glanced around at them, and then looked to John and me, "Not good?"

I shook my head slowly and John said, "Bit not good, yeah." John around too, but stopped on me, he gave me a comforting smile. I smiled weakly back.

Sherlock stepped closer to John, "But if you were dying, if you'd been murdered, in your very last seconds what would you say?"

John replied with no emotion, "Please God, let me live."

"Oh, use your imagination." Sherlock scoffed.

"I don't have to." John said in the same cold tone.

I tried to hide myself in a corner, I didn't want Sherlock to ask me, but he saw me and walked right up to me, "What of you, Evangeline? What would you say?" And he did it, he forced me to relive that horrible night.

Blood was everywhere, both mine and Liam's. Liam was already dead lying face down on the floor similar to Jennifer Wilson's, but he was lying in his own blood. I held my hand over the stab wound to my stomach. I would have not been stabbed if I didn't try to save Liam.

I looked at the man I trusted, that I grew up with and loved as a dear friend, "Why? Why are you doing this?" Pain wrecked through my body, the words were hard to say. Breathing was becoming difficult. It felt like a weight was on my chest as my body started to feel lighter.

"Because you didn't love me." He tried to say coldly but some emotion was there, "If I couldn't have you, Evangeline, then no man could."

"You certainly won't have me now." I said falling over. I pulled my hand away from my stomach, more blood gushed out of the wound onto the floor.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" He screamed.

"Dying." I managed to huff a laugh, "You're getting what you wanted." I crawled weakly over to my Liam and lay beside him, not caring the pool of blood I was lying in. I touched his face, "Oh Liam, I'll see you again."

My body started to shake violently, but I just looked at Liam's face, "Liam." I whispered. I closed my eyes. I could hear my murderer's screams, but they were muffed. My body felt lighter than before, it felt like I was going to sleep. Everything turned black and I no longer felt the pain, or anything. I was going to see my Liam again…

A tear ran down the corner of my eye when I looked up at Sherlock. I didn't say a word, but he stared down at me with confusion. I reached up grasping my locket in a fist, "I don't know what I would say." I lied.

I didn't try to fight nor did I beg. I just gave up. I was dying anyway, so why should I fight. The chances of me getting out of that situation alive were slim. I thought I might as well give in with some dignity next to my husband.

Sherlock looked at me in confusion, he knew I had been lying, but he didn't pry, thank God. He just went right back over to John like I didn't say anything, "Yea, but if you were clever, really clever…Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers, she was clever. She's trying to tell us something."

Mrs. Hudson appeared in the doorway, "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

Sherlock paced, "I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Sherlock snapped rudely.

Mrs. Hudson didn't even flinch at the rudeness, "Oh, dear, they're making such a mess. What are they looking for?"

"It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson." John said.

What Mrs. Hudson said took me right out of my depressed funk and had me laughing again, "But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers."

Sherlock at this point looked like he was about to explode as he paced in smaller distances to where he was just walking in a small circle holding his temples growling. All the commotion wasn't good when he was trying to think. He was going to burst in 3…2…1…

He threw his hands up and yelled, "Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe!" I was silently laughing again. Damn this man, for always making me laugh.

"I'm trying to think. Anderson, face with other way, your face is putting me off." Sherlock ordered without looking at Sherlock. This only added to the laughter, "Evangeline, as endearing as your giggles sound, it is distracting!" Sherlock yelled again.

He certainly made me stop laughing, I could only look at his back thinking about what he said. He said my giggles were endearing, as in adorable. Sherlock thought the sound of my laughter was cute. I thought I sounded like a dying seal, I hated hearing my own laughter that's why I covered my face or mouth-to muffle it, but Sherlock Holmes thought my laughter was cute and he didn't even sound sarcastic.

"My face is?" Anderson questioned.

Lestrade called out, "Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Anderson argued.

"Lestrade yelled, "Your back, now, please! Before I let Evie use the stitching kit." I covered my face and stopped the chuckle that wanted to come.

"Come on, think, quick." Sherlock told himself.

"What about your taxi?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled at her making her scurry away. A light bulb went off in Sherlock's head because he started to say, "Oh," and he laughed.

"She was clever, clever, yes. She's cleverer than you lot, and she's dead. Do you see? Do you get?" Sherlock questioned us-Lestrade, who was leaning against Sherlock's desk, John, who was sitting in his chair, and me who was sitting on the arm of John's chair.

"She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him. When she got out of the car, she knew she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer." Sherlock paced as he spoke. This time, he wasn't aggravated, he was confident.

"But, how?" Lestrade asked to stop Sherlock's pacing.

"What…what do you mean how?" Sherlock looked confused.

Lestrade just shrugged in answer. Sherlock probably didn't realize that he hadn't explained or he was an arrogant arsehole who thought we should already know it. I think it was the latter of the possibilities.

Sherlock looked excited, "Rachel!"

We stared blankly at him, "Don't you see? Rachel!" Sherlock smiled again.

I was annoyed now, "What is it, Sherlock?" I snapped, "It is meant to be a code or something to figure out what where the phone is?"

Sherlock almost looked like he wanted to kiss or hug me. Instead, he pulled out a bag of Cadbury Buttons, my favorite chocolate candy and threw it into my lap. He turned to the others and chuckled, "Oh. Look at you lot; you're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Like the brilliant Evangeline said, Rachel is not a name."

John snapped, "Then what is it?"

Sherlock pointed to the pink case, "John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address." Sherlock went over to his computer. I got up and stood behind him, curious.

John slowly read the pink ladies email address aloud as Sherlock typed in it. I leaned my hip against him as I watched. I felt a little strange because of the closeness but quickly got over it.

"I've been too slow." Sherlock scolded himself.

I patted his shoulder, "We all have our off days."

"Well, I don't." Sherlock retorted.

"It appears you do." I shot back.

"Eat your Buttons, Evangeline." Sherlock said, typing away at the computer, "She didn't even have a phone which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smart phone that's e-mail enabled, so there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address and-all together now-the password is…?"

John and I answered, "Rachel."

"So we can read her e-mail? So what?" Anderson drawled.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street." Sherlock said. I almost choked on a Button laughing.

"We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a smart phone; it's got GPS, which means if you lose it, you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man that killed her." Sherlock made the computer do the search.

"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade said.

"We know he didn't." John replied.

It was taking longer than Sherlock would have liked because he was growling, "Come on, come on!"

Mrs. Hudson ran up the stairs again, "Sherlock, dear, this taxi driver…"

Sherlock jumped out of his chair and towered over Mrs. Hudson, "Mrs. Hudson, isn't time for your evening soother?"

I stood from the spot by the computer, "Must you be an arse to everyone?" I walked to Mrs. Hudson, "Don't let him bother you." I rubbed her arm.

"It's the taxi driver." She explained, "He's getting impatient and rude. Not to mention, he's a bit scary." I looked at her in concern, "Well, if he bothers you again, come and get me." I may not be brave, but I wasn't going to let anyone mess with Mrs. Hudson.

"Ok, dear." She nodded. I walked back over to the computer just in time to see the results. It was here, the phone was here at Baker Street. John and I couldn't say anything for a moment; only stare dumbly at the screen.

Sherlock ignored me and went to Lestrade, "Get vehicles, get a helicopter. We're going to have to move fast. This phone battery won't last forever." Sherlock said.

"We just have a map reference, not a name." Lestrade said.

"It's a start."

Finally, we could speak, "Sherlock?" John called. Sherlock didn't hear us or he just ignored us.

"Sherlock." I called him.

"Where is it, quickly, where?" Sherlock came close behind me. His chest pressed against my back.

"Here. It's in 221 Baker Street." John said slowly.

"How could it be here?" Sherlock asked, he pulled away from my back, "How?"

"Maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere." Lestrade offered. No, that wasn't it. I texted the number, someone called me.

"What, and I didn't notice it? Me? I didn't notice." Sherlock started to talk slower, something was coming to him.

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back." John said.

Sherlock looked like he was completely lost in thought. I was wondering if he was alright, but I didn't what to disturb whatever he was figuring out.

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belongs to the victim." Lestrade said.

Sherlock only moved when his phone dinged and he pulled it out and read it.

"Sherlock, are you ok?" John asked.

Sherlock started blankly down the stairs, "What? Yea, yea, I'm fine." I didn't believe him.

"So how can the phone be here?" John asked again.

"Don't know." Sherlock replied. Once again, I didn't believe him.

"I'll try it again then." John sat down at the computer.

"Good idea." Sherlock walked down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Fresh air, just popping outside for a moment." Sherlock walked down the stairs. When I heard the door close, I went to the window. Sherlock stood outside talking to the cabbie. What was going on?

And why did I have a bad feeling?

Sherlock's POV

How could I be so stupid?! Of course, it was a taxi driver. He was the only thing that made perfect sense. People trusted cabbies so he would have plenty of victims to choose from. He was the one who could hunt from a crowd, but stay invisible. Now he was standing outside my flat leaning on the cab.

"Taxi for Sherlock Holmes." He said in a more cockney accent.

"I didn't order a taxi." I said, taking what details I could.

"Doesn't mean you don't need one." He said.

I remembered seeing him that night we ran after the cab thinking it was the passenger, "You're the cabbie…the one who stopped outside Northumberland Street. It was you, not your passenger."

"See, no one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible, just the back of a head. Proper advantage for a serial killer." He went on. His voice was highly annoying.

"Is this a confession?" I looked up at the flat's window. Evangeline stood there watching everything with confusion on her face. I just nodded to her, not to worry. She nodded back, but she didn't leave the window.

"Yea. And I'll tell you what else. If you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise." He said.

"Why?"

"Because you're not going to do that." He smirked. He was confident, too confident. He thought he was smarter than he was, a narcissist.

"Am I not?" I asked.

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. Holmes." He said. "I spoke to them and they killed themselves. If you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing-I will never tell you what I said." He went around the car to get inside.

"No more people will die, I think they call that a result." I said. Contrary to what people might think, I didn't like when people died. Yes, I solved murders and crimes to drive away boredom, but there was another thing I could do to keep me occupied-something much darker. I didn't feel the urge to hurt people, though it didn't bother me if I did. I didn't care about people's feeling nor did I really feel. That's what made me a high functioning sociopath.

"You'll never find out how those people died. What kind of results do you care about?" He entered the cab leaving me to think.

I glanced at the window, Evangeline was still here. She'd figure it out, she was a clever girl. When she first walked into the lab, I didn't think much of her besides, she was just a bored librarian, though she was quite pretty, but no doubt dull and she looked like she would die of fright from a loud noise. When she opened her bag and I saw the newspaper with her words written on it, I knew she was so much smarter than I thought. She proved it more to me each time she answered one of my questions.

I found myself curious about how she would be as a flatmate. Would I finally have someone to have intelligent conversations with? Her choice in literature told me she might be, not many people like the works of Poe. They thought it was too dark, I find it relatable. Also, I found her to be a mystery. I had some of hints of who she was, but they didn't seem to answer as of who Evangeline Murphy was. I wanted to figure her out and know her secrets.

I walked to the window and bent down to look in, "If I wanted to understand, what would I do?"

"Let me take you for a ride." He replied.

"So you can kill me, too?" I asked. That wasn't going to happen.

"I don't want to kill you, Mr. Holmes. I'm going to talk to you and you're going to kill yourself."

I thought it through for a moment, of all the possible scenarios. No matter what John and Evangeline would figure it out if she hadn't figured it out yet.

"If you don't get in or if you lose, I'll take that pretty Irish girl for a ride." He said bringing me out of my thoughts, "She's been in here before, you know. Pretty thing, she is. Scared of everything too. I thought for a moment she knew what I was; she just so scared of me and everything. The only reason I let her live was because she said this address. I won't let her live next time."

I glared at him, "There won't be a next time." He should have never brought Evangeline in this.

Evie's POV

Something wasn't right. Why was Sherlock just standing out there talking to that cabbie? He looked up to me and nodded like he was telling me not to worry, I nodded back, but I couldn't leave that spot. I couldn't stop feeling worried about him either. My worries only tripled when he got in the taxi and then drove off.

I was too absorbed in my worries that I didn't notice John was looking out a window either, "He just got in a cab." John said, still holding the phone to his head, and then turned to the police, "It's Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab."

Sally frowned bitterly, "I told you he does that. He bloody left again. " She went into the kitchen and ordered the forensics around. I didn't pay much attention. Something was nagging me in the back of my head. I was trying to connect the dots when I heard Sally again.

"Does it matter? Does any of it? He's just a lunatic and he'll always let you down, you're wasting your time, all our time." Sally snapped at Lestrade.

I laughed without humor, "Wow, the bitterness." I turned from the window.

"Excuse me?"" Sally turned to me.

"How did he let you down, Sally?" I walked to stand in front of her, "Or did he just turn you down?" Her jaw clenched, I was right. I couldn't read people like Sherlock did, but I could still see signs. Everyone can read people by their tone of voice or body language; you just had to pay attention.

"Why would I ever want that freak?" She sneered.

"Sherlock is an attractive man. Especially with his eyes, cheekbones, and that voice that just sends tingles down your spine all the way to your toes." I replied smirking.

"Sounds like you're the one who wants him." She smirked.

"Oh, yes. I find him very attractive, but it's just attraction. I'm attracted to many men, but that's all it is and after all while I just see them as normal men. The thing with you, Sergeant, is not only are you bitter, but you're still attracted to him." I tilted my head to the side giving her a smug look.

"You know what? I think you're a freak just like him. You two are made for one another." She said it like she thought the comment would hurt me, but it didn't even register. I could only smirk wider and quirk a brow, was that all she had?

"Alright, girls, that's enough. Put away your claws." Lestrade pulled Sally away and got in the middle, "Ok everybody, we're done here."

The police packed up their stuff and quickly left. Sally and Anderson shot me a glare which I returned with a friendly smile and wave. As soon as they were out of eyeshot, I went back to worrying about Sherlock. I nibbled on my bottom lip in fear, but I wasn't sure why. The feeling at the back of my head was screaming at me to make the connection, whatever it was.

"Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" Lestrade asked, putting on his coat.

John shrugged, "You know him better than I do."

Lestrade scoffed, "I've known him for five years, and no, I don't."

John asked, "So why do you put up with him?"

"Because I'm desperate, that's why." Lestrade made to walk down the stairs but stopped and turned, "And Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might be a good one." Lestrade left.

It was just John and I. John was doing something, I wasn't sure what and I stayed by the window waiting for Sherlock to reappear.

"Evie, he'll be fine. He probably just thought of something and ran off. He'll pop up later." John said comfortingly. I didn't turn to him; I continued to look out the window.

"Evie, you should go home. I'm going back to my flat." John said.

"I'm just going to stay here and wait." I turned and gave him a weak smile, "I want to throttle him when he gets back." John nodded slowly not believing me. I turned back to the window and he went off somewhere.

Why did he just stand there and talk to the cabbie? He doesn't seem like someone to just make random conversation. I thought to myself. A beep brought me out of my thoughts, I turned to check it but John was already on it.

"It's no longer at Baker Street." He looked up at me in shock and fear.

The killer was here, but now he was gone. Just around the time Sherlock left…with the cabbie. My eyes widened. I heard Sherlock's voice in my head, Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of the crowd?

"Oh, god." I panicked. I ran grabbing my coat, "Where does the phone lead?"

"What? What is it?" John asked.

"It's the cabbie, John! The cabbie that Sherlock got in the car with. The cabbie is the murderer!" I nearly shouted.

John grabbed his coat without second thought and grabbed the computer. Both of ran outside and hailed a taxi. I jumped in followed by John. The cabbie asked for directions and John guided him through by looking at the results on the computer. I was nervously running my fingers through my hair. What if we don't get there in time? What if he kills Sherlock?

John phoned Lestrade but I was too nervous to hear the conversation. My entire body shook and I couldn't keep a straight thought in my head. Tears from worry stung my ears. I wanted to shout at the cabbie to hurry up but he was driving at fast as legally possible.

I jumped out of the taxi before it could slow to a complete stop. They were two buildings in front of me and they looked the same. All the nights were on inside.

"We can split up." I said running to the nearest building, "You take that one, and I'll take this one."

"No, Evie. I'm not living you alone with a killer around." John said.

"But Sherlock…" I argued.

"We'll find him together." John took my hand and we ran to the building closest to him. Luckily the door was unlocked. We ran to each room calling for Sherlock, but we heard nothing.

"John, I don't think he's in this building." I opened a room, it was empty.

"We just started looking, Evie." John checked another room then slammed the door shut, "Don't bring up splitting up, it's not going to happen. Sherlock!" John called again.

"Sherlock!" I called with him, "We'd find him faster." John shook his head and we ran down another hall, up a stairway, and down another hall. Most of the doors on the other floors were locked and we still got no answer to calling for Sherlock. Finally we burst through a door, in the window across the small court yard, and in the other building I saw Sherlock with the cabbie.

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

"We won't make it over there in time!" I screamed.

John yanked his gun out the back of his pants and aimed, "Cover your ears, Evie." He ordered. I only had a second to clamp my hands over my ears before John fired. The cabbie went down. John grabbed my hand and we ran out the room before Sherlock could turn around to see us.

I could barely contain the laughter at seeing Sherlock sitting in an ambulance with an orange blanket draped over his shoulders. He ripped it off twice already, but the paramedic would just grab another and wrap it around him. He would look at the thing in disgust. He didn't get the chance to take this one off, Lestrade walked over to him.

I couldn't hear the conversation, but I had a feeling Sherlock figured out John was the shooter when he looked up and saw us. John looked off looking casual and I rocked back and forth on my feet.

Sherlock walked away with Lestrade following him. I laughed momentarily when I finally heard a bit of the conversation, "Oh, what now? I'm in shock-look, I got a blanket." Sherlock held the edges out showing off his wonderful orange blanket.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade called.

"And I just caught you a serial killer. More or less." Sherlock replied making me smirk. Sherlock walked away. Once again he ripped off the blanket and tossed it in the open window of a police car.

John spoke first, "Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything. Two pills. Dreadful business, isn't? Dreadful." John went on.

"Absolutely awful." I played along.

"Good shot." Sherlock praised with no emotion.

John cleared his throat, "Yes, yes, must have been, through that window."

"Well, you'd know." Sherlock replied, "Did you get the powder burns out of your fingers? I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case. Are you alright?" Sherlock asked looking at us both in turn.

"I'm fine." I said softly.

"Yes, of course I'm alright." John replied.

"Well, you just killed a man." Sherlock said.

"That's true. But he wasn't a very nice man." John reasoned.

"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?" Sherlock agreed.

"He was actually a terribly awful cabbie." I joked making John and Sherlock chuckle.

Sherlock smiled, "It's true. He was a bad cabbie. You should've seen the route he took to get us here." John snorted. I covered my mouth so I wouldn't draw too much attention with my silly giggling. Sherlock wore a proud smirk.

"Stop-we can't giggle, it's a crime scene. Evie, stop that now." John scolded while chucking.

"You're the one who shot him, don't blame us." Sherlock prodded playfully. Sally stopped when he said that, sending each of us a glare.

"Keep your voice down." John shushed, "Sorry, it's just nerves, I think." John explained to Sally.

"You weren't going to take that damn pill, weren't you?" John asked.

Sherlock smiled, "Course I wasn't. Bidding my time. Knew Evangeline would figure it out and you'd both turn up."

John scoffed, "No you didn't. That's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever."

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked.

John smiled, "Because you're an idiot."

"A total idiot." I agreed smiling but then turned stern, "And if you ever do that to me again, I will hunt you down and throttle you to death." Sherlock only smiled.

"Dinner?" He asked.

"Starving." John replied.

"I want something deep fried and covered in chocolate." I pouted.

Sherlock chuckled, "End of Baker Street there's a good Chinese, stays open till 2:00. It also has sensational desserts." He smirked down at me.

"Desserts, you say?" I returned the smirk.

He nodded, "You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle." I quirked a brow at him. Oh, he had to explain this one to me.

"Sherlock." John called, "That's him. That's the man we were talking to you about." Exiting a black car was the man that lured John and I into a warehouse then tried to bribe her into spying on Sherlock. 'Anthea' followed behind him, her eyes still glued to her phone.

"I know exactly who that is." Sherlock lead the way to the man.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited. But that's never really your motivation, is it?" The man said tried to smile, it looked odd.

Sherlock glared, "What are you doing here?"

"As ever, I am concerned about you." He replied.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your concern." Sherlock tilted his head up while looking at the man with distaste.

"Always so aggressive." The man smiled again, "Did it ever to occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no." Sherlock acted like he was thinking about it.

"We have more in common than you'd like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer. And you know how it always upsets Mummy."

"I upset her? Me? It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft." Sherlock snapped. My jaw dropped as I glanced between the two taking in the similarities. Both had the most striking eyes and radiated arrogance. Both made me want to pull out my hair then beat them with John's old cane.

"No, wait. Mummy, who's Mummy?" John asked.

"Mother, our mother." Sherlock replied not taking his eyes off the man, Mycroft, "This is my brother, Mycroft."

"You two…are brothers." I couldn't help but repeat it, "I see being an arrogant sod runs in the family. And I thought my family was dysfunctional. Who on earth named you? Sherlock, Mycroft, where did they come up with these names? They both sound so…1880's" (A/N 1880's was when Sherlock Holmes was first published.)

"Of course he's my brother." Sherlock stated, "And what do you mean being an arrogant sod, Evangeline? There's nothing wrong with our names, well mine at least."

"Really, you don't notice that?" I asked, "Surely I'm not the first person to say it."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you, Evangeline." Mycroft smiled.

"Evie!" Sherlock snapped, "She prefers Evie."

"So he's not…" John stopped. He was still in a state of shock of things.

"Not what?" Sherlock and Mycroft looked at him.

"I don't know…criminal mastermind." John looked down at his feet.

Sherlock looked back at Mycroft, "Close enough."

Mycroft retorted, "For goodness sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government when he's not too busy being British secret service or the CIA on a freelance basis. Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic. Coming Evangeline?" Sherlock stuck out his arm. I took it and we walked off.

"So are you going to answer my questions?" I asked.

"Your questions?" He repeated confused.

"The one's on the newspaper. Are you going to answer them?" I elaborated.

"Ah, yes, of course." He remembered, "He lured his victims with into the buildings with a fake gun. We gave the victim a choice between two bottles, one was good and the other was bad, poison. They took one and he took the other. He threatened to shoot them if they didn't take the poison; none of them knew that the gun was really a lighter." He explained.

"That was the most stupid thing to go about it. Why would he choose that method of murder if he might die?" I asked.

"He was dying anyway." Sherlock replied, "He targeted people because someone was giving him money for every kill."

"Who would do that?" I asked. John walked up before I got my answer.

"So dim sum." John said.

Sherlock hummed, "I can always predict the fortune cookies."

John chuckled, "No, you can't"

"Almost can." Sherlock retorted. I smiled shaking my head. I looped arms with John too and listened to the two of them bicker.

So whatcha think? What was your favorite part or line?

The next chapter won't be heading into the second episode of Sherlock yet. They'll be a few original chapters. I hope you're excited. I know I am.

'Til next time, I love your faces! ^_^