I know this a really short update, but a short update is better than no update right?
I don't own. Only Emily.
I'm sorry for any spelling/punctuation mistakes I have probably made and failed to correct.
QUICK QUESTION: Do you guys want me to carry on this story in The Blind Banker?
Review and let me know?
"Taxi for Sherlock 'olmes." The cab driver spoke as he leaned casually against his vehicle. Sherlock stepped forward and shut the door behind him.
"I didn't order a taxi."
"Doesn't mean you don't need one."
"You're the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street." He declared. "It was you, not your passenger."
"See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of an 'ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer." His accent was coming through rather thickly now.
Sherlock stepped forward a few paces, looking up at the window of his flat as he did so. He noticed a splash of blonde standing out, letting him know that Emily was close by.
"Is this a confession?" He asked and turned back to look at the man, hoping Emily would not make an appearance.
"Oh, yeah. An' I'll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won't run. I'll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise."
"Why?" Sherlock asked with a frown.
"'Cause you're not gonna do that." He replied.
"Am I not?"
"I didn't kill those four people, Mr. 'olmes. I spoke to 'em ... and they killed themselves." His tone was casual, as if he discussed this sort of thing every day. "An' if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing." He leaned forward as if to confide a secret. "I will never tell you what I said."
The pair stared at each other for a moment as Sherlock thought about the man's words. It was only broken when the man straightened and moved around to the front of his cab.
"No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result." The driver stopped and turned back to him.
"An' you won't ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?" He questioned, turned again and continued to his door.
As the driver slid into his seat, and Sherlock began to inch closer to the passenger side, he looked up at the windows again. This time he was greeted with the sight of Emily watching him closely. One eyebrow raised in question. She quickly turned back round as if someone had called her name. It was only then, that Sherlock looked away and bent down to look into the open window of the cab.
"If I wanted to understand, what would I do?"
"Let me take you for a ride."
"So you can kill me too?"
"I'll put it this way Mr. 'olmes. If you don't get in my cab, I'll just wait until that pretty blonde up there needs a taxi. Maybe she'll be late for work one day, maybe the trains won't be runnin'. Whatever the situation, I'll make sure I'll be the driver to pick 'er up. I'm a patient man, Mr. 'olmes. I can wait as long as it takes." Sherlock hadn't realised his fists were clenched until he noticed them from the corner of his eyes. "But don't worry, I won't kill you." He sounded like he was trying to reassure the detective. "I don't wanna kill you, Mr. 'olmes. I'm gonna talk to yer ... and then you're gonna kill yourself. Now, jump in Mr. 'olmes. You know what they say. Blondes have more fun. And I wouldn't mind finding out just how much fun-
"You won't need her." Sherlock interrupted the man with a snarl. He had felt something strange flare inside of him at the mention of Emily. He straightened up, casting a quick glance to the window once more. Once again finding Emily watching him with a curious look.
By now, John had taken up the spot next to Emily, watching from the window as Sherlock got into the cab, his phone pressed against his ear as he tried to ring Jennifer's phone again.
"He just got in a cab." John mumbled more to himself than anyone else, he spun around and moved towards Lestrade. But Emily stayed at the window, her eyes never leaving the taxi. "It's Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab."
"I told you, he does that." Donovan informed them. "He bloody left again. We're wasting our time." She now shouted as she walked into the kitchen.
"I'm calling the phone. It's ringing out."
"If it's ringing, it's not here." Lestrade pointed out.
John lowered the phone. "Em, try the search again." She nodded and sat down the in the chair and refreshed the search, John leaned one hand on the table, the other on the back of the chair to watch over her shoulder.
"Does it matter? Does any of it?" Emily rolled her eyes. "You know, he's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down, and you're wasting your time. All our time." Emily looked over her shoulder at the woman who had nothing but bad words for the consulting detective. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened in the past to this woman that made her feel that way about Sherlock.
"Okay, everybody. Done 'ere." Lestrade spoke loudly so the whole flat could hear him. Emily turned her gaze back to the search that was currently still loading.
A few minutes went by where the only sound was of the other police officers tidying up. Although, as Emily watched with one foot up on the seat, her chin resting on her knee, she wondered if any of them understood the meaning of the word 'tidy'.
"Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?" Lestrade questioned as he picked up is coat.
John shrugged. "You know him better than we do."
"I've known him for five years and no, I don't."
"So why do you put up with him?"
"Because I'm desperate, that's why." The two remaining occupants didn't bother watching him as he walked away. But he hadn't finished. He turned back to look at them and continued. "And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one." His last few words were spoken more to Emily more than John. "I've left you my number on the kitchen table. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."
"Goodnight." Emily called to him. Lestrade winked at her once more and turned to leave.
The flat, now empty of police officers, seemed a little dull to Emily now that Sherlock wasn't there. Yes, it was rather more peaceful, and peaceful was good. But without the consulting detective there, something just didn't feel right. Maybe she would feel differently if she actually had to live with the man. She got up from the chair and turned the computer around, deciding that if she couldn't see the screen, it would find the results faster. She sat down on the end of the settee closest to the window and got herself comfortable. She had the feeling this night was about to get even longer.
She noticed John was deep in thought in the kitchen and wondered what he was thinking as he walked into the living room. As he clenched and unclenched his hand, she turned away and looked out the window again at the houses opposite. She didn't even realise he had moved until he was reaching for his cane.
"You aren't seriously going to keep using that are you? You don't need it."
"You never know." John looked back at the blonde. "Are you going to stay here?"
"Might as well. It's a bit late to be heading home." She didn't mention the fact that she didn't want to encounter her Mother. John nodded.
"If anything happens l-"
"I'll call you." She finished his sentence for him. The two shared a smile before John continued on his walk to the doorway. "Goodnight John."
"Goodnight Em." John called back to her over his shoulder. He smiled to himself. He didn't understand why no one would want to live with her, but he knew one thing, he certainly would enjoy her company.
Emily had been about to start a fresh search for the remote when it happened. The computer beeped at her triumphantly as it had moments before. She moved towards it quickly, banging her thigh on the table as she did so.
"John." She had meant to sound louder, but all that came out was a mumble. She hadn't heard the front door shut, with any luck John might still be downstairs. "John." She shouted much louder this time.
"Emily?" She got a response this time. She hastily moved towards the doorway and ran down the stairs, the computer in her hands now. She was too busy looking at the map on the screen to notice how many stairs were left . If John hadn't caught her, she would have fallen down the last few steps. "Emily, what's wrong?" He kept his hands on her forearms and noted the alarmed look on her face.
Without a word, she turned the screen round so John could see it. It only took a matter of seconds for John to release his grip on her and grab her coat. "Come on." He started to guide her out of the door when a thought struck her.
"Wait." She handed him the laptop and sprinted up the stairs two at a time. It was a few seconds before she reappeared again clutching a card in her hand. "Let's go." She opened the front door for John and slammed it behind them when they were outside in the freezing fresh air. "TAXI!" She shouted to the cab that was just about to drive past them. For once in her life, it actually stopped. But she didn't pause and gloat about it. Instead, she immediately jumped in, swiftly followed by John.
She would bet money on Sherlock being in the same location as Jennifer's phone.
Also, if you were lucky enough to get tickets to the Sherlock BFI event, please don't tell me. I was absolutely gutted that me and my friend didn't get a pair.
Remember to answer that question.
Believe In Sherlock.
FB