Sherlock and Molly entered the hall without further ado, where all the guests now gathered in front of a small podium. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald were standing upstairs and apparently were about to give a little speech.
Then Molly suddenly remembered. Patrick wanted to talk to her while the two of them gave their speech.
She turned to Sherlock.
"Patrick wanted to talk to me during the speech. I've got to find him," she said and was about to turn away when she remembered something else.
"By the way, the two voices you heard just now... One of them was Bridget, the Fitzgeralds' daughter."
"And whose was the other?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"Unfortunately I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
"But I have heard that voice before, I'm sure of it."
Sherlock just nodded. Then he suddenly thought that if this Bridget was playing a game for everyone, her brother Patrick, might be involved?
And Molly was on her way to see him - alone. Fear was spreading inside him.
"Molly, wait!"
She turned on her heel and looked at him questioningly.
"Something's wrong. I'll go with you."
"No, Sherlock. I can't do that. He won't tell if you're there. Besides, now would be your chance to look around a bit more." she tried to explain to him, and with a reassuring smile, indicated that he had nothing to worry about.
Sherlock came a little closer and put his hands around her face, pulled her towards him and gave her a short kiss on the lips. Feeling her lips on his, he could get used to that, he thought.
"Take care," he finally said and reluctantly released his grip on her.
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen to me," she said, smiling encouragingly and stroking his cheek with one hand. Then she turned around and went in search of Patrick.
Sherlock now touched the cheek Molly had touched before and whispered softly, "I hope so".
Afterwards he sneaked out of the hall inconspicuously to collect more information in the private rooms.
His first way led him to the study of Mr. Fitzgerald. Carefully and always looking towards the door, he searched all the cupboards, shelves and the desk. He found a locked drawer under the desk. Euphorically he pulled out his little pencil case with the most important detective utensils and picked the lock all around. He finally discovered a few important documents that would slowly shed light on the matter. They were promissory notes.
Sherlock quickly stashed them in the inside pocket of his dinner jacket and was just about to look around when suddenly there was a loud bang.
A GUNSHOT.
He straightened up as fast as lightning. A word formed on his lips.
"MOLLY!"
He quickly locked all the drawers and ran back into the room.
When he arrived, the guests were already in a state of excitement. Everywhere guests were running around the room in panic.
Sherlock looked in every direction. He looked to the left, he looked to the right, he looked to the podium, to the front seating area. No Molly. She was nowhere to be seen.
The officer that Sherlock had spoken to this morning, who had advised Sherlock to appear at the party, ran towards him.
"Mr Holmes, what happened?" he asked excitedly.
Mrs. Fitzgerald, who was standing next to them, turned around in confusion.
"Like Mr. Holmes? The young man here is William Fitzpatrick and is Ms. Hooper's companion"
Officer Thomas looked at Sherlock in slight surprise. But Sherlock could not think clearly. Again and again his eyes searched the room for the woman he loved. So he didn't realise that this officer had just blown his cover.
"I'm sorry, madam, but this is Mr Sherlock Holmes. He is a consulting detective and came to see me today about the murders. "He also advised me to come to your party. As it turns out, not the silliest idea.
When the young officer finally revealed Sherlock's true identity, he too awoke from his rigidity. Unbelievably and with a slightly angry look he now stared at him.
Officer Thomas did not understand properly and was just about to say something when suddenly a shrill scream sounded.
Only a few seconds later one of the maids entered the hall, completely dissipated and pale with shock.
"Young Mr. Fitzgerald..." Her voice broke off and she fell silent.
Only with a hand signal she pointed in one direction.
Sherlock and the young officer looked at each other briefly, then both ran in the direction she pointed.
The path led them to the library of the house. As they entered the room, they immediately recognised where the bang came from.
Patrick Fitzgerald lay on the floor. Several books were scattered over him. Blood.
Patrick was shot and had probably dragged a shelf with him as he fell.
Immediately the officer raised the alarm and called for backup.
Sherlock took a close look at the room, the body and the surroundings. But again, Molly was nowhere to be seen.
'Molly wanted to meet him. Now he's dead. But where is Molly?' he thought to himself.
He closed his eyes, folded his hands and put them on his chin.
"Mr Holmes-" the young officer started to speak, but Sherlock stopped him with a show of hands. He heard something. voices.
Carefully he moved around the room trying to find out where the voices were coming from. He quickly realised that there was another room. He indicated to the officer to follow him quietly.
As they came closer, he could hear them speaking clearly.
It was the same voice he had heard before.
Sherlock slowly approached the room and carefully peered around the corner. He recognised that it was an archive room. His gaze went on and suddenly he recognised it.
Molly. His Molly.
Tied to a chair. Two people stood in front of her and argued. The one person was this Bridget. The other person he did not know.
"Well, any last words Ms. Hooper?" Bridget hissed with the gun pointed at her.
That was the moment Sherlock knew he had to do something. But what could he do? If he would just run in, he risked that she would pull the trigger in shock. After all, he didn't know how adept she was at handling a weapon. No, he had to think of something and quickly. A diversionary tactic.
In panic, he looked around the library.
'If there could at least be a window here, I could destroy that but nothing' he thought desperately.
But then he had an idea. He pointed with his hand to the books below. Officer Thomas understood immediately and took one of the books.
"When I say so, they'll throw it across the room. It must be so loud that it distracts them. But it mustn't sound so close," Sherlock explained to him with a whisper and then gave him a few more instructions.
The officer nodded and Sherlock got ready. With his hand he counted down from three.
"Ready?" he asked quietly and turned his head slightly. The officer nodded and Sherlock gave him the signal. Officer Thomas threw the book as loud and far away as he could. It hit a vase on the opposite side, which fell down and broke.
"What the hell!?" yelled Bridget.
"Go see what that noise was" she then ordered.
The young man reluctantly moved in the direction that Sherlock and Officer Thomas were standing. They were both hiding behind shelves.
"It was only a vase that had fallen down" he shouted in relief.
At that moment the officer grabbed another book and pulled it over his head. When he was unconscious, he handcuffed him.
"Cal? Callahan, what is going on?" it shouted now.
"I'm afraid Callahan won't be able to give you an answer right now.
It was Sherlock who now stepped carefully and with slow steps into the room. He knew that she had turned her gun away from Molly, as he had been watching her the whole time.
"What? Who are you?" she asked in a startled voice and now pointed the gun at him.
Sherlock slowly raised his hands. And Molly also moved restlessly in her chair. Quietly she whispered his name and stared with big eyes at the man who was slowly moving towards the person with the gun.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes."
"It's over, Ms. Fitzgerald," he then said in a calm tone.
"Don't take another step or I'll shoot you!" she screamed in panic. Her hand shook.
"Well, that's nothing new," he replied succinctly.
Bridget looked at him with a frown. She did not understand.
"I'll just shoot her little friend here, then!" she yelled and pointed the gun back at Molly.
Sherlock turned his head briefly and then looked the woman he loved soothingly in the eyes. It almost seemed as if he wanted to say that everything would be all right.
Then suddenly -
a new shot...