Chapter 20

Sherlock and Lestrade entered the flat, where they found that Mellie was changing Rosie's nappy, and John was carrying his laptop to his chair. "Hi," he greeted them. "Have you found anything?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Lestrade exchanged a look with Sherlock, who removed his coat and hung it on the hook. "I regret to say it's not good news."

John laid his hands on the cover of his laptop. "What is it?"

Lestrade pulled a chair out from underneath Sherlock's desk by the windows and perched on it. "We haven't spoken with your sister yet, John, nor have we been to Chelmsford; we had to undergo another phase of the investigation first. Sherlock and I have discovered that your parents' deaths were not an accident as you and Harry thought." He paused. "Because of the other suspicious deaths, Sherlock thought that checking into the car wreck was a necessity."

John stiffened his back. "Are you—are you saying our parents were murdered?!"

"It looks like it," Lestrade said sombrely. "Even though your father was drunk at the time, we don't think that's what caused the fatal accident. There's evidence that someone tampered with the car before they got in."

Mellie picked up the baby, nappy change now complete, and entered the lounge. Siger rose to his feet and approached her. Consternation etched both of their faces.

John cleared his throat. "You—you think it was Gruner."

"Well—" Lestrade looked at Sherlock. "You explain to him, Sherlock."

With a nod, Sherlock stepped forward. "This appears to be an Occam's Razor, John. At the moment, there's no evidence it's him, but how many other serial killers were likely running around Chelmsford during that time, after all?" He rolled his eyes, and Lestrade snorted. "For now, all we can do is keep looking for further evidence."

John bit his lower lip. "Of course." He glanced down at his laptop. "This is so strange, to say the least! If you'll excuse me, Greg, I want to check my emails, and then I'll get you some tea."

"Of course."

"I'll fix the tea, John," Mellie told him. With a smile, John thanked her. He opened his laptop and pulled up his email account. There were several new emails in his inbox. The one at the top, he noticed, was from an anonymous sender. Frowning, he opened it first.

The email contained no text or signature. Instead, it consisted of a photograph taken of a graffiti on a light-brown brick wall somewhere, written in bright red as follows: 'KILL JOHN WATSON'. Gulping, John swallowed hard, and he felt his palms turning sweaty. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lestrade rising to his feet.

"John?" Sherlock approached him, followed by Lestrade, concern on their faces.

Swallowing hard again, John said, "I've—I've received a death threat in my inbox." He cleared his throat.

Frowning in concern, Sherlock and Lestrade looked over John's shoulder at the death threat smeared on the wall in that photograph. "Forward it to me, John," Sherlock said, laying a hand on John's shoulder.

"And to me," Lestrade added.

Turning back to his laptop, John forwarded the offending email, and Sherlock whipped out his mobile phone to view it. A moment later, Sherlock looked up and turned back to John. "I'm sending it to Mycroft," he said. "He can check the CCTV to see who sprayed it there. As soon as I can, I am going to study it for clues."

John nodded. "What are you going to do?"

"Send my Homeless Network out to look for that graffiti," Sherlock said, as he punched some keys on his mobile phone. A few minutes later, he slipped it into his inside suit jacket pocket. "They've all received their assignments. Now it's just a matter of waiting to hear back from one of them, and from Mycroft. Once I do, I'll be on my way to that location to examine it for clues."

"We will be, Sherlock," Lestrade reminded him, and Sherlock nodded. At that moment, Mellie brought Lestrade a cup of tea, which he took with his thanks. For the next half-hour, while they waited, John checked his other emails and responded to some of them.

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone chimed. He removed it from his suit jacket pocket and opened the text. "It was painted on the side of an abandoned building in Brixton. I haven't received any CCTV footage from Mycroft yet," he told the others, as he leaped to his feet and strode towards the door, where he had hung his Belstaff coat on the hook. Putting it on, he added, "I'm heading to the site. I'll text if I find anything worth noting."

"We will. This is a team effort, don't forget, Sherlock," Lestrade said, with a stern look at the consulting detective, who looked at him and nodded. The two of them left the flat.