Chapter 10: in Pink (Suitcases)

'Alice!'

Alice was already halfway up the stairs when Mrs. Hudson called for her. She entered the room and stopped in the doorway. Mrs. Hudson was standing in the middle of the room, a garbage bag in one hand, and holding Sherlock's skull in the other.

'Ah, there you are dear. I thought I could clean up this room a little for that poor Dr. Watson. You should have seen his face, astounded by the mess Sherlock has already made.'

She wanted to throw the skull in the garbage bag, but in one quick move, Alice had snatched it from her hand and pressed it against her chest. Mrs. Hudson stared at her, her eyes large with surprise.

'Sorry Mrs. Hudson. This skull...'

She looked at it, remembering the time that her father had given her her own skull and how she had thrown it to the floor. She looked up again, her mind made up and structured again.

'This skull is actually mine, I forgot to take it down to my room yesterday.'

She continued to stroke the skull in her arms. Mrs. Hudson looked at her for a while, but then turned around to pile up some papers and throw some others in the garbage bag. Alice put the skull down on her old chair and helped a little bit.

She didn't throw anything in the garbage though, she just put it in a place where Sherlock would be able to find it and that it would make sense to him, while at the same time making it look like it was cleaned up. You could never just throw something away with Sherlock Holmes, you never knew how important it actually was.

Then she turned to the kitchen, where she saw the eyes she was going to use for her experiment. She paced to them and opened the microwave. She put the jar in and slammed the door shut. She turned the machine on and for a moment she watched the little light in the microwave lighting up the jar with eyes.

'Alice dear, I am going downstairs if you don't mind. Your father wants something for diner later when he returns, something cold would do. Could you?'

Alice looked up and straight at Mrs. Hudson, who was standing in the middle of the living room. Holding the garbage bag in one hand and the skull in the other. The girl nodded, but then pointed at the skull.

'Could you please leave that in my room, Mrs. Hudson, on the table?'

Mrs. Hudson followed Alice's finger and looked disgusted at the skull, then back to Alice.

'Sure dear, as long as I don't have to see it.'

Alice smiled and Mrs. Hudson left the room, still visibly disgusted by the real human skull she was holding, but which she was not allowed to throw away. Alice remained in the same position for a while, before turning back to the living room. She walked past her chair, the red ragged chair. A pillow had been dropped in it, obviously by John Watson, he was already making himself comfortable. Although Alice really wanted her father and this new flatmate of his to get along, she didn't know how she felt about this yet. She passed the chair and walked towards the window.

She looked out. It was dark. Sometimes a car or a bus passed by. Sometimes the streetlight would mark the silhouette of a man or woman on the sidewalk. Nothing important, nothing interesting. Boring. Nobody properly visible. Nobody of interest. Ah, boring.

Alice felt the wood of the violin at her fingertips. She smiled. She had been playing more than ever, always on her father's violin, who didn't seem to mind it that much anymore, and maybe, sometimes, even liked it. She picked up the violin and placed it on her shoulder, her eyes still fixed on the outside world on the other side of the glass. A soft sound started to flow from the instrument and filled the room. Alice closed her eyes, but where usually the sound would fill her ears, she was now thinking, and it was a very clear thought.

The suicides, her father was at a crime scene of the most recent one now. He might find some interesting clues there. He might share them with her. What if that would help her? She had her own thought processes and her profile of the murderer, since it had to be murder. The face was blank, but one thing was very clear, so obvious that Alice was surprised that her father didn't see it yet. The profession of the murderer. His motive could be anything from psychopath to murder for hire, and Alice didn't particularly care. She just wanted this person to be caught before he or she could strike again. She heard the timer of the microwave go off and she put the violin down.

After writing down the new findings in her experiments, she put the jar back in the microwave to cool the eyes down to room temperature again before she would start the second trial. It was just as easy to leave them there, she wouldn't forget them anyway. She was playing the violin again when she saw a cab stop in front of the house, She followed a dark figure in a long coat with something in his hand get out and she heard a key turn in the lock. The cab drove off, nobody else had come out. Alice suddenly stopped playing and before Sherlock had entered the living room, the violin was back in its place and she was sitting in her chair, as if she had been there the entire time.

'Found something?'

Sherlock looked at the figure sitting in the darkened flat and immediately recognised Alice, he grinned.

'Serial killer.'

Alice looked up, keeping her face in check. She made a proper attempt at hiding her excitement by covering it in disinterest.

'And?'

Sherlock held up a pink suitcase.

'His mistake.'

Alice looked at the suitcase for a moment. One to three day suitcase. Someone had been in town for a short period of time. Alarming shade of pink, so attention seeker. Celebrity, journalist or student. No camera's outside. No crying parents at the door. Journalist. If it was a mistake it had to have been forgotten. Maybe the colour had been the giveaway? If everything belonging to this person had been pink, and this suitcase had been left behind when victim and murderer had gone to the place where victim would die, that would be a mistake.

Alice grinned. Where to better leave behind, or rather forget, a suitcase than in the booth of a cab? If this journalist was in London for a day, on his or her, probably her considering the colour, way to a hotel, she would have taken a cab there. That ended rather miserable for her. Her theory got more shape and it made Alice happy. She looked back to Sherlock.

'Where did you find it?'

Sherlock grinned and sat down on the couch. He put the suitcase on a small table that now stood between them.

'Dumpster in an alley about 5 minutes from the crime scene at Lauriston Garden's. The killer must have thought he was smart, but not clearly not smart enough.'

Sherlock was smiling widely and his eyes were sparkling. This was his game. This was what made him Sherlock Holmes. Solving crimes, as a substitution of getting high and to break the everlasting boredom. Alice was drawn to the suitcase, but then she remembered someone else. She looked up at the door, still nobody.

'Dad?'

Sherlock was too busy fiddling with the lock that kept the zippers on the suitcase closed.

'Dad, where is Dr. Watson?'

Sherlock was still fiddling and didn't pay attention. Alice turned back to him and looked straight at him. She opened her mouth again and said, a little louder:

'Sherlock, where is Dr. Watson?'

Sherlock looked up, distracted from his thought process now.

'Who?'

Alice closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

'Your flatmate, remember? You showed him the flat about 2 hours ago? You took him with you to the crime scene?'

Sherlock looked up and around the flat, then back to Alice.

'Oh, he'll be able to find his way home alone. I just had to do this, and I couldn't really use him for it.'

Alice's eyes widened and she leaned closer to her father.

'Did you tell him that you had to do something and that he had to get himself a cab home?'

Sherlock stared back at Alice, then he went back to fiddling with the lock, which suddenly sprung open. He opened the zippers and threw the lid back, revealing the insides of the suitcase. Alice had risen from her chair, from her father's response she had made her own little deduction again. She was closed off, but she still understood the way in which a normal human mind would think after having lived with one as her only companion 24/7 for 15 years.

Sherlock had left John Watson behind on a crime scene, surrounded by police officers who had no idea who he was. And Dr. Watson had no idea where he was, or where his new flatmate had gone. Her father had left a helpless human being behind in the middle of nowhere, to fend for himself. Suddenly Sherlock's head shot up.

'Come and take a look.'

Alice didn't waste another second and walked around the table. She dropped down on the couch next to her father, who was still rummaging through this dead person's stuff.

'Missing something?'

Alice looked at the stuff in the suitcase. Clothes. Underwear. Make up. Toiletries. Pyjama's, well, something that was supposed to be one at least. Nothing out of the ordinary.

'At the crime scene we found absolutely nothing, no personal belongings at all.'

Sherlock remained quiet for a while, but then remembered something else he had to tell Alice.

'Oh, and I forgot to mention she...'

He looked at the tag on the suitcase.

'Jennifer Wilson... was a serial adulterer.'

Alice looked up at her father and then quickly glanced into the suitcase again, but she didn't need that final glance, she already knew what she missed.

'Phone.'

Sherlock smiled, for someone who had not seen the crime scene and with the little and seemingly trivial information he had given her, she had given him the correct answer to his question.

'Obviously. Now, we have to find out who murdered these people, and one way to do that is by...'

'Luring him out.'

Sherlock looked around and back at Alice, who was looking straight at him. She had been thinking the same thing. Sherlock turned around and nodded slowly, while walking around the room, thinking about the easiest way to lure this serial killer, who he had so longed to have, out of his lair. Alice followed her father's movements. This couldn't go on like this, she liked it, but what she didn't like was the fact that John Watson was out there somewhere, confused about whether his flatmate wanted him around or was just playing some sick prank.

Then she saw something lying on the table, her father's phone. While Sherlock was still pacing around the flat, Alice picked up the phone and opened a new text to a number bearing the name "John Watson".

Baker Street.

Come at once

if convenient.

SH

She signed it with her father's initials like he always did, it had to look authentic. She pressed send and looked up at her father again, who was still pacing. Her mind had not stopped while sending the text and now she opened her mouth to share her latest thoughts with Sherlock.

'The killer has to still have her phone, so that shouldn't be too hard.'

Sherlock's eyes locked on Alice's, who was now staring at the case.

'What did you say?'

Alice looked up.

'No phone on the body and no phone in the case. So the phone is with the killer or it has been lost altogether. The easiest way to lure this serial killer, is by using this missing phone.'

Sherlock started to smile and went back to the couch, on his way there he grabbed a pack of nicotine patches. He needed some more time to think this entire case through, while Alice was already tying up the final loose strings of a case solved. She had already taken out her own phone and was looking up a phone number, which she quickly noted down on a piece of paper on the table. Sherlock, in the mean time, was still thinking out loud.

'Then we'll have to send a text to the phone, so we need to find her phone number.'

Alice held up the piece of paper with Jennifer Wilson's phone number on it. Sherlock grinned and nodded in agreement, he quickly took it and looked at it himself for a short while.

'Can I borrow your phone Alice?'

Alice looked up.

'Why?'

Sherlock looked back at his daughter.

'Always a chance the number will be recognised, it's on the website.'

Sherlock held out his hand, but Alice didn't put her own phone there, but Sherlock's.

'Ask Dr. Watson. You took him with you. If he comes back, you'll know for sure that he's up for it. Send him another text, I already sent one.'

Without saying another word, Alice left the room and went downstairs, leaving her father alone with his suitcase and his nicotine patches. She had already solved the case, but she wanted her father to do it by himself too. Though not entirely by himself. But she was not the one to help him. When she entered Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, the landlady was making herself a cup of tea. She looked up.

'Oh hello dear, were you upstairs with your father, I thought I heard people talking. I met your father's new flatmate tonight, he's a doctor, did you know that already, of course you did. I think they look kind of cute together? Cup of tea?'

Alice nodded and wanted to walk towards the couch, but then she realised what Mrs. Hudson had just said.

'Wait. Mrs. Hudson, did you just say that my father and Dr. John Watson look cute together?'

Mrs. Hudson looked up, smiled and nodded.

'Oh yes dear. But you should have told me before that your father was a homosexual, and especially that he had a boyfriend.'

Alice had to really stop herself from bursting into laughter, but she failed. The surprise and confusion was visible in Mrs. Hudson's eyes.

'Something wrong dear?'

Alice shook her head and took a few deep breaths before she started talking, though she was sometimes still hindered by her laughter.

'My dad and John Watson are not together, Mrs. Hudson. Well, not as far as I know. Sherlock isn't even sure whether he is gay or not, let alone have a boyfriend.'

Mrs. Hudson's smile faded.

'Oh, I thought they looked cute together.'

Alice walked up to Mrs. Hudson and joined her in making her own cup of tea.

'Don't worry Mrs. Hudson, you never know.'

She still had to keep herself from laughing and sometimes Mrs. Hudson would laugh with her. When they finished making their tea and were sitting on the couch next to each other, not saying a word, they suddenly heard a voice coming from upstairs.

'Mrs. Hudson!'

Mrs. Hudson looked up and wanted to put her tea down, but Alice, who knew perfectly well what her father was trying to achieve, stopped her.

'Don't respond.'

They remained quiet for a while, and the voice started shouting again.

'Mrs. Hudson!'

Again Mrs. Hudson wanted to get up, and Alice stopped her again. The landlady looked at the young teenager next to her.

'He's calling for me, maybe something is wrong.'

Alice shook her head and smiled.

'Nothing is wrong with him Mrs. Hudson. He just needs to get used to the fact that there is somebody else he has to call to get what he wants.'

Mrs. Hudson looked confused again, Alice wondered why. What she was saying wasn't all that cryptic was it? It wasn't difficult to understand what she meant? Then why was Mrs. Hudson so confused the entire time?

'Who is that my dear?'

Alice smiled.

'John Watson.'

(A/N): OK, maybe a little under a monthly update, but I couldn't stop writing this because I'm starting to love this story so much. However, I am still finding new details every time I rewatch the episodes (which I do A LOT). So I still come up with new ideas, which result in new writing, which result in re-uploading chapters. Now I don't know whether the people who follow this story get a notification EVERY TIME I do this, cause if they do, I'm so sorry, I know how annoying this can be. So, if this is the case, please let me know.

And if there are other things you think could improve either the story (though I have my own ideas I am still open to new insights) or the lay-out, please tell me. I am still getting to know this platform (as this is my first story here) and I am not quite the expert... yet.

And just in general, if you have a review for me, I would love to read those to (they make me really happy to be honest so please do)

So... that's all for now I guess.

Have fun reading!

xx

SweetLoveWriter