I'm back! I had a lot of fun on vacation, the best part was that my uncle thought 'Benedict Cumberbatch must have had a lot of work done, he looks a little fake.' I told him that yes, those are his normal cheekbones, and he was slightly surprised. Anyway, back to the story, I sadly didn't get enough time to work on this during the week. I got as much as I could, and figured a nice place to stop so I didn't have to do the rest of the episode in one chapter. We'd be here awhile. So, here's the next chapter.
"It's here. It's in 221 Baker Street."
"No, that- that's not possible," Sherlock denies.
"Maybe it fell out," Lestrade tries, thinking logically, for him.
"And I didn't notice? We didn't notice?"
"Alright," Lestrade says, finally giving up. "Everyone, we're also looking for a mobile phone, belonged to the victim, so keep your eyes peeled."
"Sherlock, we need to work together, talk to me," I say, turning towards the door leading to the stairs. A new figure stands in the doorway, unnoticed by everyone else. My phone dings with a text, Come with me it says. I turn to Sherlock in panic, searching for a sign of help. I can tell by his face he's working it out, but I need to move. I glance at everyone quickly, my fight-or-flight response kicking in as my body goes cold. I turn to the door where Mrs. Hudson stands by herself, the space empty without the unfamiliar man. I walk past her and down the stairs, leaving the police officers and Sherlock to figure the case out themselves.
I slam the front door behind me, pulling on my jacket.
"Taxi for Jane Watson," the cabbie says with a slight smile.
"I didn't order a taxi," I tell him, trying to buy time.
"Doesn't mean you don't need one."
"Why are you doing this?"
"No one ever thinks about the cabbie, just the back of a head. Like you're invisible."
"Is this a confession?"
"Can be. Cause if you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet while they take me down."
"How did you kill all those people?"
"I didn't kill them, I talked to them and they killed themselves. But if you call the coppers, you won't find out what I said."
"How did you find me?"
"I recognized you, when you were chasing my cab. Was warned about you, warned by someone who noticed."
"Who would notice me?"
"Don't be modest. Got yourself a fan."
"A fan who makes people kill other people?" I let him sit in a few moments of silence. "Exactly what I thought."
"I'd like to take you on a drive," he says, finally.
"Why? So you can kill me?" I slowly pull my phone out of my pocket to not attract attention.
"I'm gonna talk to you, and you're going to kill yourself." He smirks a bit before walking around his cab for the drivers seat.
"If I call the police, they would take you away, the murders would stop. I believe they call that a result."
"But you won't know how I did it. What kind of result do you care about?" He climbs into the cab, sitting quietly for my answer. I type out a text to Sherlock, telling him to Follow Me. I look up to the flat window, making brief eye contact with him before walking towards the cab and climbing in.
Soon he makes his stop, at a college a decent way away from the flat. He opens my door, standing silently.
"Where are we?" I ask, knowing exactly where we are with one look around.
"You know every street in London, you know where we are," comes his joking response.
"Roland Further Education College, but why should I follow you in?" He pulls out a gun, holding it inches from my face. Fake.
"Because you know better." He waves the gun for me to get out, which I do silently. He pushes me in the back to make me go faster until we end up in one of the larger classrooms on the top floor.
"Do you like it? You're the one that's gonna die here."
"No, I don't actually. Too clean, I always imagined my death at home, or in a dark alleyway."
"Shall we talk?" He goes on as if he didn't hear me. He offers for me to sit down, pulling out his own chair to sit.
"You took me out of a flat with half a dozen police, and Sherlock Holmes, and Mrs. Hudson will remember you. They're not as stupid as you may think."
"You call that a risk?" He smiles to himself, reaching inside his left pocket. "This is a risk." He places the object on the table, pulling his hand back to reveal a pill in a small glass jar. I stare at it in confusion for a while before I look up at him again.
"You don't get it yet, do you? Well you're about to, all I have to do is this." He reaches into his other pocket, pulling out an identical glass jar with an identical pill inside. I can't help but widen my eyes as it finally dawns on me.
"What's this about?" I ask anyway.
"Look at you. Jane Watson, in the flesh, a proper genius. Bet you're thinking hard now aren't you? Between you and me, why can't people just think? Drives you mad, doesn't it. Why don't people just think?" I smile to myself at his question.
"My brother asked me the same thing when we were kids," I tell him, thinking fondly of the memory. I shake my head, coming back to my senses. "Alright, so I'm guessing there's a good bottle and a bad bottle, and you want me to choose one so you can take the other." His face falls rather quickly. "It's alright, don't take it personally, I saw it on the telly once."
"Are you ready to play?" He asks, though quite annoyed.
"Oi, let me have my turn," I interject. My eyes scan over him, looking for clues. Dying. "Ah, I see now."
"What exactly do you see, Jane Watson?" He spits out my name.
"You're a dead man walking," I say sympathetically. "Three years ago you got the news, and apparently someone wanted to help you." He sighs heavily before looking back at me.
"Aneurysm. Right in here," he taps his forehead. "They told me any breath could be my last."
"So you wanted to give your kids something before you died, money by chance?"
"The more I kill, the better off they'll be." He smiles to himself again, before wiping all emotion from his face. "Time to choose."
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, cliffhanger. Only place to stop, yada yada yada, you know how this goes. I'll have the next one up soon.
xxIshipit24xx
