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An Interesting Lie
It was early, far too early for the ordinary punters of England to be up and about. The zombies interacting with the machines around the gymnasium were no exception, wiping sleep from their eyes and stifling huge yawns with clumsy hands. The only two people brushing off this tired state belonged to a man and a woman walking side by side on treadmills. The man had a blue and white bandana holding back the long, flyaway coils of his afro which swayed in time to his step, his eyes glancing at the girl walking beside him, her red hair knotted in a plait. Ruby increased the speed of her treadmill from a fast walk to a steady jog and as her feet pounded against the rotating belt, she found her mind dwindling on the bizarre events of the previous night.
'So Red; are you going to tell me what happened or will I have to wait and hear it from Anderson first?' The man asked, drawing the girl from her thoughts.
'Sorry Jahmene, I'm still trying to accept what happened. Yesterday was one of the strangest days of my life.'
'You're keeping something from me.' Jahmene said knowingly as he matched his speed to hers, his chiselled physique capturing the attention of a young girl in her twenties on a rowing machine. Ruby wasn't surprised when she finished her routine early and took the free treadmill on Jahmene's left.
'Oh yeah? How can you tell?' She asked a little breathlessly, trying to keep her voice calm, even, free from anything which might attract suspicion.
'I always know when you're not telling the full truth. I know your tell.' Jahmene's breathing had barely changed such was the might of his aerobic fitness. Ruby continued to run for another minute in silence, her thoughts blurring as her speed increased. Should she tell Jahmene what she'd done? It wasn't a question of trust which stopped her; Jahmene was loyal. She didn't want to earn his disappointment.
'I'll tell you what happened first.' She said decidedly.
'And then you'll tell me what's really bothering you?'
'Sure.'
Between breaths, she recounted yesterday's crime scene, Sherlock finding the child hidden in the very room they'd been standing in and of little Benicio's disappearance from the hospital. Jahmene remained quiet throughout her story, a small crease between his eyebrows letting her know she commanded his full attention. She quickly danced over the events which had happened in 221b before increasing her speed once again, her attention focused on her pounding feet instead of her story.
She left the treadmill after her thirty minutes, the anxiety gnawing at her intestines producing a tougher run than normal. With flushed cheeks, she approached the weight section which was always neglected at this early hour. Jahmene pouted at the lack of men flexing their vanity muscles but his lips hardened into a thin line when he noticed Ruby's glum expression. She usually celebrated the absence of men massaging their egos, their gazes flicking over to see if she was watching their workout. This was a thing Ruby never failed to loathe and she claimed the lack of these men made the best possible start to her day.
'Red… what did you do yesterday?' Jahmene asked quietly, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer. Ruby stared blankly at her reflection, her glazed eyes watching her sweating body but failing to take in her flushed appearance so busy was her search for words, the right words, to tell Jahmene what she'd done. Her eyes suddenly regained their sharpness and they used the mirror to make sure their conversation couldn't be overheard. She moved forwards and picked up some weights and as she began to lift them, an explanation fell from her lips.
'I withheld evidence on the crime scene yesterday, showed it to that consulting detective; Sherlock Holmes and when things went belly-up, I looked straight in the eye of my boss and lied to his face.' She said in a quiet, monotonous voice. Jahmene did well to mask his horrified surprise, hiding his face from view as he pretended to be inspecting the assortment of weights in front of him.
'Why?' He eventually asked; his chosen dumbbells hanging limply from his hands, three kilos too light. He couldn't understand why Red would do something so outrageous, so stupid after only beginning at homicide. Ruby watched her reflection carefully, making sure to avoid Jahmene's burning stare as she began to lift her weights.
'It seemed a preferable option than telling Lestrade his detective skills were so poor, I felt I would be putting the case in jeopardy if I gave him the evidence I found.' She replied in that same deadpan voice, switching weight technique after fifty reps. Jahmene swallowed slowly before lifting his weights, his attention so very far from the number of times the dumbbells touched his biceps. He didn't turn his head to stare at his best friend; he remained rooted to the spot, trying to figure out what possible incident had made Red lose such a remarkable amount of faith in her boss.
'Does Sherlock know about your reasons for coming to him with the evidence?' Jahmene eventually asked.
'He deduced it.' Ruby replied, replacing the weights before picking up a medicine ball. Jahmene also returned his weights and as Ruby lowered herself to the ground, he placed her feet on his thighs to hold her in the right position. She still wouldn't look at him as she passed the medicine ball over her midriff, the muscles jumping in her arms with each movement. Any pride Jahmene felt at Red's progress with putting on the muscle she'd lost for her stripper gig was marred by the extraordinary nature of her confession. He'd been so eager to help her regain the physically empowered state she'd once commanded. To help her punches to sting, for her kicks to have the power to wind an opponent, for the ability to defend herself from anything the criminal world might throw at her. Now he couldn't care less about the confident manner in which she was utilising the medicine ball, his thoughts were bent on their conversation.
'Are you worried about what he'll do with this information?' Jahmene asked.
'He keeps a great many secrets Jahmene. Whether he'll keep mine or utilise it for his ulterior motives is beyond me.' To her amazement, Jahmene smiled and pulled her to her feet. 'What?' She asked, completely bewildered as he plucked the medicine ball from her fingers.
'You've nothing to worry about Red. Sherlock Holmes, he's a bit weird but he backed your lie with nothing to gain and everything to lose.'
'And this means he won't blackmail me?' She asked sarcastically.
'It's not his style. He's a curious man Mr Holmes and I've seen him do some weird things in my time at the morgue. But in terms of you remaining in homicide, you've nothing to worry about. You owe him a favour. Many of the police officers in South London Metropolitan do. All he wants will be for you to twist the rules, but always for a break in a case, never for personal gain. Once he asks for his favour and you grant it, that's it. You'll be even.'
'What if he asks me to bend rules which I cannot allow myself to twist?' Ruby muttered.
'Then you have a choice to make. Come clean about what you did, undermining any power Sherlock has over you which leaves you open to the wrath of your superiors. Or… you twist the rules.' Jahmene said bluntly. 'Your boss is an idiot. Fine. Not exactly the first time that's happened. In future, deal with it calmly and go about everything else you do as a detective by the book.' Ruby chewed the side of her thumb, trying to erase the enjoyment she'd extracted from following Sherlock Holmes in his freelance steps. 'Don't attract unwanted suspicion to yourself Red.' Jahmene said warningly. Why did he always have to give such righteous, moral advice? Be a good girl, don't rock the boat; stay within the boundaries… Before she met Sherlock that might have been possible, but now she'd had a taste for bending rules in order to find the quickest path to justice and she found herself wondering if she wanted to stay away from it. 'Now, can we please get some breakfast and forget all this doom and gloom? I'm starving.'
John Watson was tired. Very tired. Sherlock had kept him up past two in the morning with his incessant violin playing and all he wanted now was to get out of the house and grab a nice, warm cup of coffee. Something he couldn't make at 221b seeing as Sherlock had broken the kettle while testing a hypothesis in one of his many experiments. He ignored his flatmate who was intensely reading a book by the empty fireplace; threw on a jacket and headed out the door. Two minutes later he was in the café across the road, settling down in a window seat and staring hungrily at the menu. He might get some breakfast with his coffee, the last time he'd seen the frying pan at home, it'd been propping Sherlock's bedroom door open and God only knows what the madman had used it for.
'Alright love? What would you like?' Asked a breathless waitress; June, if John remembered correctly.
'Oh, um, just a cup of coffee and a full English please.' John said with a quick smile before handing the menu back.
'No problem…' June replied while folding the menu beneath her arm. 'Hey. You're the one rooming with Sherlock Holmes; right?' She tried to ask the question casually but failed.
'Yes, I'm his flatmate. His friend.' John quickly added; always ready to defend his sexual orientation.
'Oh I know that seeing as he was in here just last night with a woman. Never thought I'd see the day.' The waitress said in a gossipy tone.
'Sorry, a woman?' John asked incredulously, beginning to become more worried with each passing second. There was only one woman Sherlock had ever taken an interest in and she was not someone John would be pleased to see again.
'Ooooh yes. They came in around eight and headed out around eight-forty five.' June gushed happily. 'Although mind you, he did ignore her for the first fifteen minutes they were in here.' She added thoughtfully.
'And, um, this woman. You er, don't remember what she looked like by any chance, do you?' John asked, doing his best to keep his voice light and curious.
'Of course I remember, it's not every day a girl comes in with violently red hair down to here is it?' She said while tapping her waist. John's tension was expelled in a long sigh and he relaxed in his chair. It wasn't Irene Adler who had been here; it seemed Ruby Smith had kept Sherlock company in this café. But why the young detective would willingly put up with his flatmate's antics and the reasons behind Sherlock failing to tell him of such a meeting ignited John's curiosity.
'So, you said they were here for forty five minutes?' John asked, beginning to take a keener interest in this little gossiping session.
'They sure were. Now, I didn't happen to catch any of their conversation but when they did speak, it was very intense, Mr Holmes kept staring at her.'
'That's not unusual; he tends to do that when he's trying to figure someone out.' John said with a slight shrug.
'Mr Holmes kept checking your house across the way every minute or so, it was like he was expecting something. And then the girl suddenly threw some money on the table and stormed out of the place and he ran after her. She gave me ten pounds too much but had already disappeared by the time I went to call her back. Biggest tip I've ever made while working here…' June finished. She gave John a big smile before returning behind the counter to make his breakfast, leaving the war-veteran some very interesting information to mull over.
Thirty minutes later, John returned to 221b in far higher spirits than he'd left. He'd even forgiven Sherlock for keeping him up past two in the morning, the memory of that fantastic English breakfast still fresh in his mind as he walked into their living room. Sherlock was still perched on his armchair, his electric blue dressing gown flowing around his light pyjamas, his bare feet gripping the green leather of the couch. The only sign of any movement since John had left was the forty or so pages resting on the left hand side of the book, proof of Sherlock reading it instead of staring blankly at its pages. His black eye was worse than ever, the dark shade highlighted by Sherlock's naturally pale complexion, improving John's mood even more.
'Morning.' John said cheerfully.
'You're in a good mood.' Sherlock commented much to John's surprise. He'd been expecting his flatmate to ignore him as was to be expected when he was reading a book.
'Yes well, no thanks to you.' John picked up one of the newspapers scattered around the room before taking the armchair opposite his eccentric companion. 'Any news about the two men who tried to kill you yesterday?'
'Still in custody. They're not talking.'
'I'm shocked.' John turned a page. 'And what about this Leo person?'
'Lestrade is taking a sinfully long time to procure a search warrant for his premises.'
'Can't he just do a random drug's bust like he did here?' John asked.
'Not enough volunteers.' Sherlock said blandly, earning a chuckle from his roommate. 'So until then, I'm to sit tight and keep my nose clean like a good boy while the police squander an ideal opportunity to take him by surprise.' He glared at his book, his gaze so sharp John wouldn't have been surprised if it burned holes through the pages.
'I heard something interesting over at the café this morning.' John said, turning a page of his newspaper but not reading any of the headlines. 'June said she saw you having dinner with a woman last night.' John's smile widened when Sherlock's gaze flicked away from what he was reading, signalling his attention was no longer on the book in his hands. 'Yes, apparently a young lady with brilliant red hair down to her waist was your companion. Now, where have I seen someone before who matches that description?' John mused, watching Sherlock carefully. 'Well, the only person who comes to mind is a certain detective we recently made acquaintance with. But that couldn't have been the woman you were having dinner with…' John allowed his voice to trail off, enjoying the rare control he possessed over their conversation. 'It couldn't have been detective Smith because when you returned to 221b and realised there was an intruder in the house; you called the police, reaching the person on-call in Homicide who you claimed to be Ruby Smith. She made a short cab trip over from St Bart's where she'd been keeping an eye on Benicio and together, the two of you went upstairs to see what the commotion was about. Afterwards, Ruby made the call to her superior. At least, that's the story Ruby spun which you ratified when Lestrade started asking questions.'
'What's your point, John?'
'Why would you hide going to dinner with Detective Smith?'
'We didn't have dinner.' Sherlock said bluntly.
'Uh, according to June. You did.'
'No. Having dinner constitutes the illusion of two people eating a meal simply to spend time in each-others company. Seeing as I didn't eat and certainly wasn't there to experience Ms Smith's scintillating company, your premise is rendered false.'
'But you admit that you were in the café with her? June said you were waiting for something.'
'Well, it would have been a very poor use of my time to sit in this armchair, waiting for two murderers to come and kill me at their leisure. No, I had to take them by surprise.' Sherlock said dismissively.
'Sherlock, you lied to Lestrade! You said you phoned London Homicide which directed you to Ruby Smith.'
'Your point being?'
'She was obviously with you before that! What the hell are you not telling me Sherlock?' John eventually blustered. Sherlock snapped his book shut before placing it delicately in its place on the bookshelf. Another of Sherlock's quirks which John would never understand was the detective's ability to live in absolute chaos but his bookcase had to be in perfect, meticulous order.
'Ms Smith doesn't trust Lestrade.' Sherlock said quietly, his fingers running along the spines of countless books.
'What?' That hadn't been the answer John was expecting.
'She doesn't think he's very good at his job, a point of view which we both share.' His hands stopped on a particular hardback which he withdrew from the shelves. 'So she gave me a slight clue when we were at the crime scene yesterday and I met her at St Bart's where my premise was proven to be correct. She had been withholding evidence.'
'Withholding evidence? She could get fired for that!'
'I know; that's what made it so interesting. Imagine my surprise when she handed over a scrap of yellow paper with our dear 221b address scrawled in green crayon across it?'
'221b? How the hell did Benicio know of our address?' John asked, completely bewildered.
'The killer said it aloud; it's the only way the child could have heard it meaning he was sending someone to take care of me before I figured out who the killer was. They should have known better than to underestimate me.' He said with a smug smile.
'So you knew someone would be making their way to 221b Bakerstreet?'
'Exactly John; hence watching our house from the café across the street with Ruby who had provided me with that crucial clue.' Sherlock concluded before he flung himself back into his armchair. John watched his friend carefully for a moment, trying to accept this bizarre explanation.
'Problem?' Sherlock asked when he caught his friend observing him.
'Why did you support detective Smith's lie?' John asked quietly.
'What concern is it of yours, John?'
'Sherlock –'
'Fine, seeing as you're not going to let this drop. I supported detective Smith because now she owes me. And I cannot stress the importance of being able to call on a member of the police to carry out quirky favours in times of crisis.' John looked away from his friend, hoping he wouldn't be around to see what awful thing Sherlock would ask Ruby to carry out.
'So… now what?' John eventually asked.
'Now? Now we wait.' Sherlock said with a heavy sigh.
'Well, I'm going out.'
'Out? Where? You've only just come back.'
'You're on the verge of boredom and I don't want to be here when you start shooting the wall or yelling profanities at Mrs Hudson.' John said while hurriedly getting to his feet.
'What's wrong with shooting the wall?' Sherlock asked sulkily, sliding further down in his chair.
'What's – What's wrong with it?' John asked, staring at his flatmate in horror. 'Sherlock, you can't take out your frustration on inanimate objects!'
'Shall I take it out on live ones then?'
'Leave Mrs Hudson be.' John said warningly, his orderly stare lost on the detective with closed eyes. 'Just, watch some telly or something… something normal. Not everything you do has to be extraordinary.' He muttered; hurrying out of the room before his roommate made some comment which would catch his attention and keep him there.
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