Continuation of the story. This takes a bit of inspiration from The Man With The Twisted Lip, which I do not own.
It was difficult for Alex to keep up with Sherlock's long legs that carried his lanky figure as it sauntered to the lab at Bart's. She had to run several times and almost skidded when Sherlock stopped abruptly. Molly had just exited the mortuary and had almost collided with the detective as she turned the corner. She yelped and stared wide eyed at the man in front of her. After recovering from her shock that left her looking like a startled bunny, smiling coyly, she instantly went gooey. She clutched her clipboard as if it were a lifeline.
"Ah, Molly! Need to use the lab for a bit, if you don't mind. Not sure how long. I may need to look online for some information, too. I would use my microscope at home but this one's better."
Without waiting for an answer, he had waltzed past her and headed into the lab with the tiny pathologist reverting to her uncanny resemblance to a rabbit caught in the headlights. She watched Sherlock eagerly as he passed through the wooden door. Alex was just as peeved as Molly at his audaciousness, but still this didn't surprise either of them.
"W-what's he doing today?" Molly asked Alex. She was still clutching her file at her chest as if afraid it would escape. She had a tendency to close herself physically around Sherlock. Alex really wanted to shake her sometimes.
"Oh, he needs to look at some fingerprints. Why he can't find out what he needs just by looking at the prints from the pictures without the microscope I don't know. He seems to have microscopic vision anyway."
"Fingerprints from where?" Molly asked.
Alex filled her in on the whole story; the lady who owned the necklace, the strange notion that she was conspiring to fake a robbery to either claim it back or on insurance. They remained in the corridor the whole time, Alex remembering at certain intervals that Sherlock would expect her in the lab soon. Or he may not care.
Molly often seemed to enjoy and very much appreciate anything that took her mind off the man of her dreams, especially when she went into an almost shocked state at the sight of him.
After five minutes, she was back to the sweet, girly, lovely Molly.
"Listen, um, do you want to come over to my flat tonight? I'll order a takeaway and if you want, you can, um, stay over? Like a girls' night in? I've got some new DVDs that I haven't watched yet."
"Yeah, I would, Molly, but that all depends on the case. If I can't tonight, I will tomorrow. Why haven't you watched the DVDs?" Alex asked the pathologist.
"Well, I, um… they're romantic comedies and I was kinda hoping…" Molly couldn't finish.
Alex eyed her keenly, thinking hard, trying to apply the Holmes method.
"…Because you were hoping to…watch them with Sherlock?" Alex asked. Molly looked like she could have cried. Alex instantly felt sorry for her.
"I know. It's heart-breaking when you love someone who doesn't love you back."
Molly couldn't reply to that. They just smiled at each other for a few seconds. Molly seemed to snap out of it and came to her senses.
"You know on my blog where I said that my friend Meena said that a girl in her thirties needs either a gay best friend or a cat? I got the cat…" Alex laughed at this, remembering Molly's cute white and tabby cat Toby and his pretty green eyes.
"I like to think I also have a gay best friend now." Molly said softly and honestly. Alex felt like her eyes were welling up.
"Well, maybe Meena meant a male gay best friend."
"Maybe!" Molly laughed, "But that doesn't matter."
Alex was feeling her accumulated loneliness ebb away with each word that Molly spoke. She didn't have any close friends in Kent and although Sherlock and John were close friends, she longed to have a best friend. It was almost a foregone conclusion that they were best friends given their eventful holiday in the New Forest, but it had never been official.
Coming back to the moment, Alex gestured to Molly that it was best that she join Sherlock in the lab.
Sherlock was already up to his eyeballs in fingerprints. He had made copies of the originals and had cut them up very finely.
"The fingerprints, Alex!" Sherlock cried the second Alex's head peeped around the wooden door. She just stood there, waiting for more words to come but they didn't. Sherlock's view had gone back to the microscope, eyeing the prints fervently.
"What about them?" Alex called out across the room as she slowly walked over.
"I thought that this was the case and I was RIGHT!" Sherlock shouted, banging his fist on the table with the last word, making the contents shake.
"Well, you usually are!" Alex said. She was almost level with the detective now.
"See here," he said, showing her several copies of fingerprints, "they are not all Sarah's. They appear the same but there are difference, small and subtle. Twelve to be exact although I won't bore you with all the details. You remember a couple of months back? When I obtained those fingers from the mortuary?"
Alex cast her mind back.
"Err… yes they were fingers from…" her voice trailed off as she realised, "oh my God, Sherlock!" Their eyes bore into each other's for a minute before they quickly picked up what they needed and took a cab back to the hotel.
The place was still barricaded up, but the staff had been allowed back into the hotel to ensure that it was in the best condition for the guests.
Sherlock didn't wait for someone to tell him that he could go into the hotel; he just continued walking up the path and into the reception without hesitation. He gestured several times with his hand for Alex to keep up. She was sure to dodge the attempt to stop her from entering the building by one of the hotel staff. Another had tried to accost Sherlock but he was too quick for them.
Lestrade was the only member of the police force in the hotel, waiting at reception. No doubt Sherlock had texted the DI to request his presence.
Once inside, Sherlock asked that he and Alex spoke in private with Lestrade. The three of them made their way to a quiet corner of the dining room, away from prying ears.
"What's all this about?" Lestrade demanded, a little louder than necessary, as they took up a few seats around an inconspicuous table.
"Shh! I have the solution right here." Sherlock said as he extracted the pictures and stealthily handing them to Lestrade.
"Sorry, what? I don't get it." He said after examining the items.
"Well, of course you don't. Most people can't see the obvious." Sherlock partially whispered.
"Lestrade, Sherlock did an experiment a couple of months ago on the fingerprints of identical twins. Whilst twins are genetically identical, their fingerprints do have some small differences." Alex cut in. Sherlock made no attempt to stop her.
"Identical twins?!" The Detective Inspector proclaimed in disbelief. "What 'small differences.'"
"Look at the example on that page," Sherlock said as he grabbed the relevant leaf of photo paper, "The lines are similar, almost the same but they do not match up. The pressure marks are different as are the emphasis on the points of the prints. Then, there are the residues, clearly the twin works with her hands and handles chemicals, that's why…"
"Alright, Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted out, frustrated by the arrogance of the man. He just wanted Sherlock to hit the nail on the head.
"Who is this 'twin'?"
This was the million dollar question and Sherlock was determined to be as evasive and mysterious as ever. A smile that could only be described as devious and cunning spread across his face before he spoke again.
"That, Inspector, is where our search begins!"
"What do you mean, Sherlock?" Alex asked as he swivelled on the spot. He revolved again to face her comically. He was definitely treating the occasion like a performance.
"The 'twin' is here. In this very hotel. Come with me."
Alex and Lestrade gawped at one another but resigned themselves to following the consulting detective out of the dining room, through the corridor to the ballroom. There were several members of staff milling around, cleaning the floors, straightening the curtains and making sure the chairs had no dust on them whatsoever. Sherlock seemed lost for a moment, looking for the illusive twin. He clenched his jaw in frustration.
"What is it?" Lestrade asked.
"She was in here earlier. I saw her walk in! Hold on."
Sherlock marched straight out and through some more halls towards what could only be described as a laundrette.
"Where are you?" The detective whispered as he fumbled over the heaps of white sheets.
Before long, a young woman of about thirty came into view. She was crouching over a pile of washing, masses of it bundled in her arms. She wore the purple attire that the hotel expected of her, her brown hair in a bunch behind her head. Was this woman they were looking for? She certainly didn't look like Sarah Caister, from what Alex had seen of her. But her face was so well hidden behind elaborate layers of make-up.
She looked shocked. Very shocked to see the three strange people staring at her. In a fit of panic, she dropped the laundry and made a break for it, dodging the baskets of linen and clothing, launching herself into the hall, where Sherlock was close to catching her.
"Stop her!" He called out, Lestrade echoing his words. Alex was the last to catch up when a porter had successfully restrained the girl. So rough had he been that the woman collapsed in a heap in his arms, exhausted from the struggle and dazed by an obvious knock to her head from the sudden grab. The tall, lanky porter let the girl gently lie on the floor, while Lestrade got a cushion for her head. It was pointless putting her in the recovery position for she was breathing rapidly. She would come round any moment.
"A sponge, please porter, and some water. Quickly!" Sherlock ordered the gentleman who had stopped the woman.
He was back in minutes with the required items, which Sherlock set to work with instantly.
"Observe, Inspector, Alex. This is Sarah Caister's twin."
With the wet sponge, he glided it down her face, removing the powdered mask and the black lines around her eyes. He had been so careful in his actions that Alex barely noticed pieces of what she could only describe as 'flesh' coming off her skin.
The unconscious woman's face was false and when removed, showed a perfect replica of Sarah Caister. With one swift moment, Lestrade had removed the wig from the head, revealing identical long blonde hair as her sister.
Almost straight away, she came to. She tried to scream but was silenced by a gloved hand of Sherlock Holmes.
"I don't think that's a good idea, do you?" He said calmly. She relaxed and he removed his hand.
The two men helped her to her feet while Alex searched her for the necklace. It was concealed in her underarm of her bra, which Alex felt through her clothes. She told the DI where it was, who demanded the removal of it. The woman knew she was defeated and reluctantly handed it over.
It was certainly a gorgeous item. Worthy of being worn at one of The Queen's banquets, or aboard the Titanic at a first class dinner. Alex simply marvelled at how it sparkled in the dim light, whilst the consulting detective identified the woman.
"Inspector, meet Miss Maria Jenkins. Or Maria Caister. She is the long lost twin of Sarah Caister, whom she had no knowledge of."
After Lestrade made his arrest, Sherlock was permitted to search Maria's locker. She had acquired an identical outfit to Sarah, but a size smaller. Sarah was a size 14 and Maria was a size 12. Plus Sarah would have known if the outfit had gone missing, so a duplicate was necessary. Alex had accompanied him, eager to learn more. Of all the cases she had been part of, this had intrigued her most.
"So how did she do it?" This was all Alex needed to know. It was quite obvious why. Maria had obviously wanted an apportionment of her birth right and had taken it by deception.
"She had worked it all out carefully. She had stalked and even come within very close proximity to her twin on a few occasions without Sarah being any the wiser. With her latex mask and make up it would have been very easy to disguise the resemblance."
Alex knew she wouldn't get anything out of the detective until he had consulted with Maria and brought the findings to Sarah's attention. She would definitely be unnerved at the news that she had a twin.
Sherlock called Lestrade from his mobile. Alex thought that this was strange as the man usually texted people. But this warranted an urgent conversation.
"Lestrade. I wish to question her. There's some things I need to hear from her own mouth."
Sherlock exhaled slowly. He eyed Alex's keen face as he waited for Lestrade to respond. His expression broke into one of relief and elation as he uttered his thanks to the DI.
A cab ride to Scotland Yard later, Alex prepared herself to wait in the staff room again. No doubt she'd be bored yet anticipating Sherlock's answer with bated breath.
But as she approached the same door that she had been behind earlier that day, she heard Lestrade's voice call to her from outside the interrogation room.
"Yeah?" Alex answered. Lestrade nudged his head to indicate that her presence was required at his side.
Sherlock was poised just inside of the room with the door open, keeping his concentration on Lestrade and Alex.
"Go on, in you go." Lestrade said to Alex with an awkward smile. Alex smiled back with pleased gratitude and shook his hand.
"If anyone asks, Alex," he said as she took a step towards the room where Maria was, "I only allowed Sherlock in for two minutes. You were with me in the canteen, which is dead now so nobody will know if you were there or not. Ok?" He affirmed, still smiling. Alex reciprocated and went into the small room with Sherlock.
Only Sarah was present, with Donovan. Alex shifted when she saw her but they had fought out their rivalry months ago and now was not the time to dwell on it.
The area they occupied was just like Alex had seen on the telly. Tiny, grey and misty green. A space that epitomised the complete opposite of cosy with a plain table in the middle, surrounded by four rudimentary chairs. Much like the ones she would have sat on at school when in a lesson.
Sherlock placed his fingertips together with his elbows on the table as he often did in contemplation and asked Maria one simple question, very slowly:
"Tell us what happened, please."
Knowing she was beat, Maria explained her story.
"I was the first born of twins to Alice Caister, a single mother from Watford. She had been widowed without any pension or any means of financial support when she was six months gone with my sister and I. She made the painful decision of having one of her children adopted. Me."
This was clearly a raw subject for the woman and hard to talk about as her voice was on the verge of breaking, her expression resisting contortion into a state of agony. Sherlock urged her on.
"I was sent to Truro, where I was adopted by a family who were not well off, but very much a close and happy family. Their money dwindled and I was forced to start working at the age of 13. I had some shit jobs and my adoptive brother went into the navy when I was 14. My father retired early, but this was only an excuse. He just wanted to be a lay about. Struggling still, I left home at 15, making my own way in life. I lived in hostels, bedsits, with friends and even at shelters I was struggling so much. My mother called me on day and asked me to meet her. This was when I found out the truth of my birth and adoption. I was determined to track down my real family.
"The first I found out was that my real mother had died four years ago. But the biggest shock was that my sister had inherited vast sums of money and expensive items from our mother. I felt so awful that she should be the one to inherit the wealth that really I was entitled to being the first born. So I tried to get in touch via Facebook and even writing her a letter, but I received no response. But one day, I got a call from her. I had given my number in a letter.
"She said that she did not believe me and wanted me to leave her alone. Sarah had never been told that I existed. So I started to stalk her. I often paid her little 'visits', helping myself to her little stashes of cash to feed my campaign. I even got a better job in Hertfordshire to supplement my earnings so that I could pay for the disguises.
"When I found out about her intended trip to Lewisham, I sweet talked my way into her house, or rather our house. The one our mother owned. We were born at a hospital, naturally, but this was the first home that I went to. I pretended to be a temporary housekeeper from the agency that Sarah used and I set to work over the period of a week finding a will, anything, that would let me know if I was ever entitled to anything.
"Most things I found just explained that Sarah and our younger sister by five years, Chloe, were entitled to the lion's share with the rest going to charity. I felt further aggrieved when I found that I had a younger half-sister. This was how my mother and sisters became rich. After marrying Chloe's father, my mother became his PA, made a mint, found out that he had been unfaithful and divorced him. However, she had retained half of the company. But there I was – still with the poor family, struggling to make ends meet.
"One day, I saw the part of the will that referred to the necklace. Expecting to find that it was left to Sarah, the will simply said that it was left to my mother's 'first born daughter.' Well, I felt so happy I could have jumped for joy! I kept my cool anyway and tried to think there and then how I could claim the item. I could have gone through the usual channels, however, I could not explain how I knew about the necklace. Then, I thought about Sarah's visit to Lewisham and wondered why she making a trip there. It was an appointment to see a jeweller.
"This seemed odd, but it made sense to me that the only item she would send to a jeweller would be the necklace! Why was she thinking of selling it? The answer came when she dismissed me from my services two days later, claiming she could no longer keep me. This was the answer. She had squandered her inheritance and now needed to sell or pawn the necklace to feed the lifestyle which she had so become accustomed to.
"I was well acquainted with her wardrobe at the end of the week of being her housekeeper and saw that she had already selected the choice outfits she would take to Lewisham. I found out that she had bought it from a Gucci catalogue so I ordered the same for me, in my own size, of course. The hotel she was staying at were applying for housekeeping staff, so assuming a different identity, I applied for a job and started the same day as the interview. I simply stated that I was in need of the money.
"I managed to wangle my way into cleaning her room every day. With my disguise, she never suspected it was me. In fact, she hardly looked me in the eye. Maybe she thought herself too high and mighty to be considered equal to a member of housekeeping! Anyway, she stupidly opened the safe there one day while I was in the room, revealing the first three digits of the code. I knew what it was with just those few digits. The date of our mother's death.
"Armed with the code, and details of the jeweller, I took the necklace and assuming her name and clothes, I met with the jeweller at the time she had agreed. Remember, she thought housekeeping staff were not on her wavelength, so she spoke with the jeweller on her phone with me present in the room, thinking that a simple maid couldn't care less!
"The jeweller did not notice the difference in our clothes, but I had deliberately picked an outfit that could easily be fleshed out and would conceal the difference in a dress size. But when you arrived at the hotel, Mr Holmes, I knew I had been defeated. I have heard about you and your methods. I thought that my prints would be the virtually same as my twin's, and the small tell-tale differences would not be obvious to the police. However, I know that they would have been obvious to you."
Sherlock had listened intensively at her story. Alex was struck dumb at the brilliance yet selfishness of Maria Jenkins.
"How did you know about me and my name, Mr Holmes?"
The detective took his eyes off the woman for the first time since the meeting began.
"I have… connections in high places." He said. Alex knew he meant Mycroft.
"Also, there are several newspapers who archive their work and I found the story of the split twins using a top secret site. A site a connection in a very high place assisted me with."
Maria was so impressed that she could not speak. She even seemed pleased that she had been found out. It was almost as if her story had come full circle. She was more than willing to take whatever it was she would receive for her deceit.
Alex and Sherlock left the station after Sherlock had a quiet word with Lestrade. He walked calmly to a cab and even held the door open for Alex. She noticed the usual post-case gleam in his eye, the remnants of the passion he possessed as well as the satiation of solving a problem.
"Another case cracked, Sherlock. Any plans this evening?" Alex asked as she tried to make out any stars at all that could shine through despite the many city lights of London.
"I don't plan my evenings, Alex, but if I did I'd say that there are some experiments at home that I need to make some more observations of. You?"
"Going to have a girly night in with Molly. I think I have a bit of a story to tell her."
Thank you again. REVIEW PLEASE!