A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry for the long delay, real life blah blah blah. Sorry about the short chapter but I wanted to turn something out.
I do not own Sherlock, Benedict Cumberbatch, BBC, blah blah blah.
Sherlock groaned as he heaved his body out of bed and groped around for his housecoat. He yawned and stretched his aching body from being hunched over a computer all day the previous day. The clock on the side table said it was five thirty in the morning. John was still asleep so Sherlock quietly made his way down the hall and towards the kitchen. He stopped when he heard keyboard keys tapping from the living area and peered around the corner with blurry vision. Belinda was at John's laptop dressed in black leggings, a lilac sport crop top and white trainers. Her midnight hair was pulled into a messy bun. Sweat shined off Belinda's skin and her shoulders raised up and down. A glass of ice cold water with ice cubes sat on the table to her left. She had been out for a run and had recently finished.
"Miss Willows?" Sherlock yawned as he stood in the doorway and scratched his head. "How did you get in?"
Belinda didn't turn around to acknowledge him but jingled Mrs. Hudson's keys in the air before placing them down again. Sherlock slowly approached and managed a glance at her back. He saw the scars on her back. Most were small with a few medium ones. He sucked in his breath when he saw three large scars.
"How did you unlock John's laptop?"
"It's not exactly Area 51," Belinda smirked. She was watching the London Eye footage and zoomed in. "No gloves."
"Mycroft and I saw that too. He is talking to the construction crew around the Elizabeth Tower. The killer has a lot of strength and his hands are dirty so we suspect that is due to his employment."
"Ah, I see. He was wearing steel capped boots too, so I think you are in the right frame of mind."
Sherlock looked puzzled. "Capped boots?"
Belinda rewound the tape and zoomed into the killer's foot before she pressed play again. She then turned around in her seat to face the detective.
"He kicked the body with the tip of his boot and it did not bend. The kicks were hard enough to push the bag under the seats, thus able to break bones. Look at his foot, it doesn't bend in under pressure, so it clearly means that it is reinforced."
Sherlock mentally slapped himself for overlooking such an obvious deduction. He leaned on the back of the chair to get a closer look.
"So definitely a construction worker," he concluded.
"Not necessarily," Belinda said as she turned back to the screen. "He could be a construction worker, but he could also be in the police force, security, a farmer, a firefighter…all of those careers require protective footwear. Think about it, even a butcher needs that footwear because they work with knives, heavy cuts of meat, machinery and non-slip surfaces. What about chefs and other kitchen hands? You have to widen your search."
"There are too many possibilities, it will take ages," Sherlock huffed in frustration.
Belinda gently placed a hand on Sherlock's hand much to his surprise. "Again, not necessarily." She looked up at him and removed her hand casually. "We'll take a picture of the ring and using Mycroft's help distribute flyers around the work forces to the bosses and get them to find out if any of their employees have this ring. We don't have to do all this by ourselves. The public can help us."
"Good idea," Sherlock admitted.
"Good, I'll leave you to sort that out, I have a few errands to run today and can drop some flyers in along the way. I have to organize some things ready for tomorrow. Susie and I have the Thames Tourist Boat's maiden voyage tomorrow morning."
Belinda got up and chugged the last of her glass of water. "Clear that up will you for me?"
"Miss Willows, about last night…" Sherlock began and licked his dry lips. "I-"
"I know you meant no harm," she replied dismissively. "It was just a shock for me."
"But still, I…I had no right to act like that and I'm…I…I'm," Sherlock just couldn't say the word. It slipped out easily last night but this morning it was stuck.
Belinda smiled, "I heard you last night. And I see that Mrs. Hudson got you good." She pointed to her eye and smirked.
"No hard feelings?" Sherlock asked.
Belinda stood tall and extended her hand. "It's in the past."
Sherlock looked at the offered hand and gently grasped it in his much larger hand.
"I'll be back soon to collect the flyers after my shower. I'll bring some makeup for your eye." She turned on her heel and walked towards the door. Sweat still sheened on her back and the lights highlighted the scars. Sherlock felt sick to his stomach over her mother's atrocious behaviour. He set to work and printed countless flyers and informed Mycroft about their plan.
"She's thinking outside the box, very impressive. I can't believe you didn't notice the boots, brother dear," Mycroft taunted on the other side of the phone, he sounded out of breath.
"Stuffing your face with food or on the treadmill, Mycroft?" Sherlock spat back.
"The latter, actually. You are lucky I was up to answer your call."
"And I seem to remember that you missed the boot too, so hello Pot."
"Kettle, let's be adults here."
"Can you help us or not? There is no way the Baker Trio can access all these possible workplaces alone."
"Baker Trio? Is Belinda a team player now?"
"I'll send an email with the flyers, just get them out in the field. Any information about the builders?"
"No, they all have clean alibis. It was worth a shot though. At least the Elizabeth Tower will overlook the Thames without delay now."
Thames…
"Mycroft, I need you to run a background on a Susan Cartwright."
"Hang on a second, let me get to my computer. Is she a suspect?"
"A possible future victim. She's a friend of Belinda and there is a grand opening of the new tourist boat on the Thames tomorrow morning. Can you get John and myself tickets?"
"I'll see what strings I can pull. Ah here we go, Susan Cartwright. She won Princess Pearl in Glasgow last year and is contracted to open the tourist boat. Aged twenty two, father is of Kenyan heritage and mother is English. She is a part time model and currently studies medicine at Eton."
"Keep an eye on her but don't tell Belinda. We need to draw the killer out."
"Sherlock, this is dangerous for both Miss Cartwright and Miss Willows. They will both be exposed in the open."
"We have to take the risk. He has to be drawn out into the public and here we have two pageant winners, this is our chance."
"I'll see what I can do."
Sherlock hung up and placed Belinda's glass in the sink whilst he boiled the kettle and settled down with a black coffee. He grimaced as he put one eighth of a teaspoon too much of coffee in the cup. John staggered into the kitchen and saw the stack of papers next to his laptop.
"You broke into my laptop again?" John asked annoyed.
"Belinda did actually."
Sherlock filled John in with the plan and John seemed relieved that Belinda was ok. There was a tap at the door before it opened and Belinda walked in with Mrs. Hudson. She had changed into a pressed rose jumpsuit, white kitten heels and a white cropped blazer. Her hair was in a fishtail braid. She crossed over to the boys and placed a jar of concealer in front of Sherlock.
"Use this to cover that bruise," Belinda instructed and Mrs. Hudson automatically began cleaning.
Belinda entered as many places her mind could think of for four hours to hand in the flyers and question staff. No luck but they were happy enough to hold onto some flyers and question any absentees in their workforce. She stepped out into the sunlight and glanced up at the Elizabeth Tower, eager for the ugly scaffolding to be removed and to hear Big Ben ring his glory once more.
"Belly Belly Belle," Susan sang as she skipped towards her friend. They embraced each other and walked down the street as they held hands. Susan was very casual in ripped jeans and a white singlet and western boots. Belinda felt overdressed and questioned whether she can dress more casually. Old habits die hard but she loved to feel good and her style was an expression of herself.
"I am so excited for tomorrow," Susan squealed and did a little dance as they walked. "I'm wearing a to die for white Prada cocktail dress and my crown. It's such a shame you don't compete anymore, Belle."
Belinda bit her lip, "bad memories. At least your parents were supportive and you loved to compete."
They turned a corner and Belinda saw the tour boat docked and workers were cleaning the outside of it. It was a double story boat with light wooden floor and tall floor to ceiling glass windows. Large white roses and lilies with green backing were decorating the bow and edge of the roof. White drapes bowed as they hung from the ceiling inside. It was a grand boat. There were chairs and tables neatly organized inside covered in white tablecloths and staff were busying themselves placing flowers and glassware upon them.
"Wow, it's a bit grand for a tour boat," Belinda admitted.
"It's a high-class boat," Susan said gleefully. "It's rented out for big events such as weddings, fundraisers, corporate events, parties, graduations and so on. It's expensive to rent too but the views are so worth it."
"It's beautiful," Belinda smiled.
"Totally. What? Did you think they would get a beauty pageant winner for a ratty old boat? This is a private boat, not public. Anybody who is anybody will be there. No royals though," Susan said and sounded a bit sad at the no royal mention. "I hear David and Victoria Beckham are going, as well as David Walliams."
Belinda bristled at Susan's attitude. It was one thing she couldn't stand about pageant winners. Some egos doubled in size when they won and thought they were the next Kardashian and got used to getting expensive things. Even if Belinda enjoyed pageants, she would have been happy to have opened a new steamboat or canoe to the public. She knew Susan was going to follow the celebrity guests around and get in as many paparazzi shots as possible.
"So, what are you going to wear?" Susan said without taking her eyes off the boat.
"A peach cocktail dress," Belinda decided.
"Is it custom made?" Susana asked as she gave Belinda a side eye.
"No, but it's been tailored since I bought it."
Susan pursed her lips. "As long as it's nice. You don't want to stand out like a sore thumb with all the celebrities and paps around."
Susan was only concerned about appearances. Belinda did a quick sweep over of her friend and concluded that Susan was egotistical and changed from the sweet friend that she was a few years ago.
"This is me we are talking about," Belinda clipped smartly to knocked Susan down a peg. "When do I ever look less than classy?"
Susan huffed but then smiled. "Let's get some food."
Sherlock was thrown out of a construction sight and had the wind knocked out of him as he landed on the pavement. His coat was covered in dust and he dusted himself off as he stood up. The construction manager stood at the entrance with his arms crossed and hardhat askew.
"A toddler knows that if they wish to enter this work force they are to wear safety equipment, sir. No-one has that ring but we agreed to put the flyer up for the public to see in our office but the moment you try to force your way into our business site you cross the line."
Sherlock turned to the man and scanned him.
"You have light brown lipstick on the inside of your collar and the remains of a hicky on the side of your neck and I know it is not your wife because the photo of your family show that light brown lipstick wouldn't compliment her skin and you just mentioned that your wife and two children are visiting your sick mother-in-law in Glasgow. Don't talk to me about crossing lines Mr. Affair. You have a flourishing business and your wife is entitled to half during a divorce."
The man turned beet red and punched Sherlock in the face. John arrived at that moment and rolled his eyes at his friend.
"What have you done now Sherlock?" John sighed. "You will be wearing more makeup than Belle at this rate. We have that tour boat tomorrow, come on." He pulled Sherlock down the street and dug into his pocket to pull out tissue which he always carried around.