Beautiful Minds

Chapter 7 – "It Takes Two"

I take my coat from the back of the sofa, Sherlock's hands smoothing over it. I watch as his fingers slide over the collar and down the lapel. "Found it." He tosses it to the floor, crushing it under his boot. "It would seem he placed the listening device on your coat when it wasn't on your person. Now that we can talk freely, we need to go to the loading dock in the back of the hotel. I think that's where he may have taken John."

My mind shuts him out, going over the supply room Brian was holding up in. The towels, the prescription bottle and the scratches on the floor, "Dr. C. Lance, we need to talk to him. You can go to the loading dock but I'm going to call his doctor."

Sherlock narrows his eyes, pursing his perfect lips together. "Very well then but do not leave this room Abby."

A schoolgirl euphoria covers me when he calls me Abby, almost as if I was a teenager again. I shake it off, going back to the task at hand. "I won't. I'll keep my cell on if you need me."

He's gone and I feel vulnerable, as if a thousand eyes are on me. My fingers fly across my laptop keyboard, hoping to find Dr. Lance's number quickly. The longer John was with Brian the more likely he may become his next victim.

Finding the number I dial it quickly, the time difference meaning the office was still open. "Dr. Lance's office, how may I help you?"

"This is Abbatissa Christie from the NYPD; I need to speak to Dr. Lance about a patient of his." I clear my throat, trying to sound very official.

"I'm sorry Ms. Christie; Dr. Lance is out of the office this week. He's on vacation." The receptionist gives me the bitter news, her voice almost too light to hear.

"Can you tell me where Dr. Lance is vacationing?" My mind was firing off theories as if clicking on a million lights.

"Dr. Lance will be back in the office on Tuesday. He's in London, England at the moment." The tone of her voice tells me she didn't want to divulge this information, as if she's been told not to say.

"Thank you, you've been most helpful." I place my suede jacket on, my coat making me feel violated.

I rush to the elevator, calling Sherlock on my way to him. His voice instantly goes harsh as he answers his phone. "I told you to stay put."

"I have my gun, don't worry. I just got off the phone with Dr. Lance's office. He's in London … he's here Sherlock. Why would a Brian's doctor be on vacation here? Doesn't all of this seem a little too convenient?" The silence on the other end of the phone starts to worry me when I hear Sherlock let out a held breath.

"Of course, he has an accomplice. Is this his medical physician or his psychiatrist? I'm thinking the later and I'm thinking Dr. Lance has been waiting for a mind as derange as Brian's to come along. Do you know this doctor?" Sherlock's words ramble back at me, my mind trying to compute them all.

"Not that I know of … wait. Yes, I do. Carlton had to see a psychiatrist for his PTSD … he was in the military. The doctor seemed to be very interested in Carlton and very cold with me. I can't believe I forgot him." I feel the blood rush to my face, my anger rising.

When I get off the elevator Sherlock is waiting for me, placing a hand on my shoulder, his blue eyes capture mine. "It would seem our good doctor blames you for Carlton's death. He wanted you dead … now he wants you punished. If I'm correct and I often am, Dr. Lance was in love with your fiancée and Brian being fixated with you only helps him gain his ultimate goal. I'll call Lestrade; we need to find this psychiatrist."

Waiting for Sherlock to hail us a cab I see the scratch marks from the laundry supply closet, the gashes leading towards the parking lot. "Sherlock!"

He turns me to, the collar popped up over his face making his cheekbones stand out. "What have we here?"

We follow the gashes all the way to the parking garage as they come to a stop at the parking area. We look at each other, both of us knowing Dr. Lance helped Brian get John out of the hotel.

Sherlock squats down, taking out is magnifying glass. He measures the tire marks left behind, the small puddle of what looks like coolant and the rubber skid marks that look as if someone had dragged something up to the car. "They dragged the laundry cart into the parking garage, loading John in the car. The coolant spilled was never in a car was it … it was poured out into another container. Oh God Sherlock … what if we're already too late?"

His arms go around me, both of us breathing a tad harder. "No, John is a fighter. He'll know what to do. I won't lose him this way … that's not going to happen Abby."

The confident, bold man walking beside me suddenly looks like a hurt little boy. The thought of losing John was playing over in his mind and I could tell it shook him to his core.

Lestrade calls back, telling Sherlock the doctor is staying at a bed and breakfast just outside the city. Sherlock tells Lestrade about the doctor's involvement, as I give the cabbie the address.

The B&B was busy, people coming and going. Sherlock goes to the front desk, choosing the direct option. I look around the lobby, the carpet leading to the back hallway showing small indentions, in the same shape as the gashes in the parking garage.

"Christopher Lance is staying on the third floor and with a guest. According to the clerk he's here with his nephew." I point to the indentions in the carpet, Sherlock smiling back at me. "Good work Abbatissa."

We walk down the hallway, the marks leading us to a storage room. Sherlock tries the door handle only to find it locked. I reach inside my jacket pocket, pulling out my black leather tool kit. "You keep an eye on the hallway … I've got this."

Kneeling down to the door lock I begin to pick it, the tumblers clicking a few times before I get the hook pick to click in place. The door lock releases, my hand pushing down on the handle.

Sherlock walks in first, pushing me behind him. I feel along the wall for the light switch, Sherlock taking out his small flashlight. The sound of labored breathing comes to my ear as I whisper at my sleuthing companion. "Sherlock … can you hear that?"

He waves for me to come to him, the flashlight shining on a sheet moving about. I look up at Sherlock, his eyes widening. "Easy."

Pulling the sheet back slowly we're both elated to see John. He's tied to a chair and looking a little weary. Sherlock works on the binding to his hands as I untie his feet. John tries to speak, the cloth tied around his mouth muffling his words.

Sherlock stands up, raising his hands in the air. I look at his face, his eyes going to my hip. I look up at John, whispering for him to hit the floor. Sherlock closes his eyes and I know it's now or never.

John falls to the floor as Sherlock steps sideways. I swirl around on my knees, bringing my gun up to shoot. Brian stands looking at me, a hurt look on his face. "They have to die Abbs … they're keeping you from me." With those words he begins to shoot, my finger squeezing the trigger of my gun three times quickly.

John picks himself up out of the floor; Sherlock bending over Brian's bleeding body on the floor. "He's dead Abby."

Lestrade comes rushing down the hallway, his eyes taking in the scene. "What part of wait for me didn't you understand Sherlock?"

Sherlock ignores the understandably upset man, his hands holding John's face. "I'm alright Sherlock, really."

Looking at Sherlock with John I can see exactly how much John means to him and my heart feels his pain.

"We have to find Dr. Lance and now. He may have heard the shots. I can't let him get away … I need answers." The two of them turn to me, a big smile breaking out on both their faces.

"Then you shall have them. Abbatissa, if you want answers you might want to shoot lower next time. I can't get answers from a corpse." I grin back at them, placing my gun back it the holster.