Chapter 7- Seeking Answers

Sherlock looked at Molly. "I will try to do better, and if I start to cross a line, to be cruel for no reason, tell me. Sometimes my mind works so fast, the words just come out. I am not used to…to filtering my words."

"I've been trying to get you to stop being an ass for years," John said, but he was smiling. "Hopefully Molly will have more success than I had." Molly giggled.

"So now that you made all your deductions about the murders do you care to share what you know with Molly and me?"

Sherlock released Molly's hand and readjusted himself in his seat.

"I know that all the women were murdered in their own homes or in their hotel rooms. Whoever the murderer is he seems innocent enough to be allowed access inside."

"How did he get the bodies out of the hotel with no one seeing?" Molly asked.

"Well, with the first bride, she was in one of the cottages. It was nighttime. He would have been able to carry the body out of the house undetected very easily. The second bride was in the B&B. This village is usually safe. Nothing terrible happens out here. I'm guessing the B&B has practically no security what so ever, certainly not in the way of cameras and such. He would have had to be careful, but I imagine once he checked that the way was clear it was probably rather easy. The single mother was killed in her own home, her daughter was asleep in her room, so again he had privacy."

"That just leaves Lorna," John said. "We will need to find out where she lived."

"I am sure we can get that information from the constables," Sherlock said. "That is our next destination."

"Then we will need to go to the market before returning to Roane Hall," Molly added. "There is no food there."

"Okay," John said as he started the engine and drove back towards the main road and then turned south. They had passed the police station the day before coming up.

Molly watched as several locals walked up and down the main street. They were all bundled up in their warmest clothing, as it was very cold out. Even though she was sure many people lived around here the over whelming feeling one got was isolation of the area. The gray sky and the wind just added to the effect.

She looked down at her hands and smiled at the sight of the ring on her finger. Everything that happened yesterday happened so fast that she really hadn't had a chance to process it all. She was engaged…to Sherlock Holmes. She had been in love with him for years and never in her wildest dreams thought this moment would come. She never thought Sherlock would love her, let alone propose. She looked at the ring again. It was beautiful.

She looked at Sherlock from behind. He was staring forward through the window, deep in thought about the case no doubt. She took a moment to admire his fine features, his chiseled cheekbones, and that mop of unruly curls that she loved to run her fingers through. She was glad that he had regained the weight he had lost. She preferred Sherlock with a little meat on his bones. Case or no case she would make sure he continued to eat. That's what you do when you love someone, you take care of them.

John parked in front of the police station. Sherlock climbed out of the passenger seat and then opened Molly's door for her. She slid out of the truck and gave him a big smile.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing," Molly replied. Sherlock continued to look curious but shut the door. They entered the police station. It was very small. The main room had two desks behind a counter, there were a few computers, and in the back they could see two cells that would house criminals. Both cells were empty.

The officer sitting at the desk reading the newspaper looked up to greet the strangers that entered. He looked to be mid-twenties, tall and slender. His blond hair was cut in a very official cropped hairdo.

"Hello, what can I do for you…it's you! You're him. From the papers!" The officers green eyes went wide!

"Yes, hello, I'm Sherlock Holmes."

"Yes! Wow!" The constable was completely star struck. "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Holmes. My name is Stewey, I mean, I'm Constable Stewart Cullen."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Constable Cullen," Sherlock said.

"Oh, and this must be your fiancé," the constable gushed.

"Excuse me?" Molly asked. How could he possibly know that? The engagement had happened just last night.

"I saw it in the papers!"

"You did? May I see, please?"

Stewart grabbed the paper and handed it over. There on the front page was the announcement of Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper's engagement, along with a picture of the two of them leaving Sherlock's flat yesterday. She was wearing her new outfit and they were surrounded by luggage. Then there was an extreme close up photo blown up extra large to show the ring on her finger.

"Do the paparazzi follow you around everyday?" she asked Sherlock. "I didn't even have the chance to phone my sister about the engagement."

"The sales clerk," Sherlock said. "It had to be her, or possibly the jeweler. One of them must have tipped off the papers. I am sorry, Molly, I truly am. Although, now that they have their damn story maybe they will stop following us." Sherlock's mobile began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. "For Christ's sake."

He answered his phone, "Hello, mummy."

"Mummy?" Molly mouthed.

"Uh, yes, I did get engaged to Molly. Yes, I know I should have told you before you read about it in the papers. I know. Mum, I'm rather busy right now. I'm sorry you found out this way. Uh huh. I promise to bring her over very soon but right now we are all in Scotland. Yes, you heard me right. Well, um, we are looking for potential wedding sights. No, the wedding isn't soon. No, of course she's not pregnant. Mother! We are just on a holiday in Scotland. Dickey Thurgood invited us out to visit. You remember Dickey, from boarding school. Anyway, I really must go. Yes, I promise to text you some pictures. Mycroft? What about Mycroft? Stolen, really? How dreadful. Well, bye now, must go, uh huh, yeah, bye." Sherlock turned off his phone with a sigh.

"Well, that went well," John said.

"Oh, shut up," Sherlock told John. John just laughed as Sherlock slid his phone back into his pocket. "Bloody newspapers!"

"Are your parents very angry?" Molly asked.

"Not at all. They are delighted that at least one of their children will provide them with a grandchild. They want to meet you as soon as we return to London."

"Um, okay. Grandchild?" Molly said nervously.

"Don't worry. My parents will love you," Sherlock assured her.

"What was stolen from Mycroft?" Molly asked.

"Oh, nothing important," Sherlock said. Again John let out a small chuckle.

"Anyway, Constable Cullen," Sherlock said, turning back to the wide eyed constable, "Sir Richard and Lady Thurgood asked me to come and look at the records pertaining to the murders here in your charming village. They are terribly worried about the harm these murders might hold for the coming season. It would be a shame if tourists were to frightened to come and spend all their money here."

"Uh, I guess so. Perhaps I should radio the inspector. Today is his day off, but I should probably get clearance from him before I share them with you."

"I guess, but is that really necessary. I mean, I'm Sherlock Holmes. I'm sure he would agree to my helping you solve this case. I know you must both be under terrible pressure to find the murderer."

"You have no idea," the constable agreed. "Every day the folks here are hounding us for answers but honestly, at this point we've got nothing."

"Well, then it seems we have arrived just in time," John told him. "Sherlock solves cold cases all the time. They are his specialty. Let Sherlock help and then you and your inspector can take all the credit. You'll be heroes!"

This made Constable Stewey smile widely. "That sounds great. He raised the counter top so that Sherlock, John, and Molly could enter past the counter. They all sat around a desk while the files were retrieved from the filing cabinet.

"Here you go."

"Thank you," Sherlock said.

Each victim had her own case file. Soon the files were all open and Sherlock was spreading crime scene photos all over the desktop and even the floor.

"Each scene looks so familiar," Molly said. All four victims were lying face down in a wet peat bog, floating really. Their clothes were wet, plastered to their bodies. Three of the women were wearing nightgowns; only Lorna was still clothed in the dress she had yet to change out of. The post mortem photos showed four women with the exact same strangulation wounds they had seen earlier. One of the victims, the school teacher, also had a contusion on her back, indicating she hit something on the way down, but other than that the bodies showed no other signs of injury.

Sherlock couldn't find an address for Lorna. "Excuse me, Constable…"

"Oh, just call me Stewart."

"Yes, well Stewart, can you tell me where Lorna Grady lived. I know where the brides were staying, as well as the single mother, but where did Lorna live?"

"She lived at Roane Hall," Stewart said.

"What? In one of the cottages?" John asked.

"No, as far as I know she had her own bedroom inside the house. Her and Lady Thurgood were inseparable. True BFF's as my sister likes to say."

"Is…I mean, was Lorna a local?" John asked.

"No, she and Lady Thurgood went to college together. Lorna was even maid of honor at the wedding."

"This changes things," Sherlock said. "I assumed all the women died in their own rooms, but there is no way a murderer was able to walk into Roane Hall undetected, enter Lorna's room, strangle her, and then carry her body out of the house and onto the moor. Even if it were the middle of the night, it is highly unlikely he would have gotten away without being seen, without making a sound."

"So, if Lorna was killed outside of the house, perhaps the others were lured outside as well?" Molly added. "The first bride to die was staying in the cottage with her husband. Here are pictures of the smaller one they were staying in. She had a bruise on her back indicating she fell, hard, onto something as the murderer took her down. Also, there are defensive wounds on her arms and hands. She fought back. Surely that would have made noise. It should have woken up the husband."

"Unless the husband was intoxicated. I remember being fairly tipsy after mine and Mary's wedding," John said.

"No, I think Molly is right. Drunk or not, there is no way this woman was murderer a few feet away from her husband when she clearly struggled. How can these murderers be so alike and yet potentially so different?" Sherlock held his hands to his chin, closing his eyes to think. "What I need is to retrace the events of the days leading up to the weddings, but of course that is impossible now, as it is months later, the guests are all gone and except for a few photographs the evidence is all gone. That just leaves me Lorna and Veronica."

"Can we access the Marsh house?" John asked. "Is it still a crime scene?"

"Not anymore," Stewart said. "We had the place taped off for three weeks. As much evidence as possible was collected from it. Last week the Inspector finally removed the tape. Veronica's sister from Inverness came. She packed up the house, sold what wasn't wanted and then she put the house up for sale. My understanding is she needed the money to take care of Veronica's daughter. She is raising Vicky now, after all."

"Has the house sold yet?" Molly asked.

"No. It probably won't until spring time when people start looking to buy."

"There is no point in going anyway," Sherlock said. "Between movers, packing, and the constant going in and out, any evidence has been destroyed. So that leaves us with Lorna's bedroom. At the moment it is all I have left to work with."

Sherlock pulled out his mobile and snapped pictures of everything he needed from the case files, personal information, the crime scene photos, and the autopsy photos.

"Well, thank you Stewart. You have been very helpful," John said.

"Sure thing. I really hope you can help us catch him."

Outside they were about to go back to the truck when Sherlock saw the florist shop was open. He changed course and Molly and John followed. A small bell rang loudly when they opened the door. A moment later an older woman stepped into the shop. It was easy to see that her home and the shop were one in the same. She had converted the front of the house into a flower shop.

"Hello," the woman said with a happy smile on her face. She looked like a sweet old grandmother with her long white hair pulled up in a bun and glasses perched on the end of her nose. "What can I do for you today?"

"Hello," Sherlock greeted. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with some information. I have been hired by Sir Richard and Lady Thurgood to look into the tragedies that have taken place here in your small village. They are very worried for everyone in town."

"Oh, I thought I recognized you. You are that detective fellow."

Sherlock smiled. The woman reminded him of his mother for some reason.

"Yes, I am. Sherlock Holmes." He extended his hand in greetings to her. She shook it.

"Thank god you are here. What has been happening is simply terrible. All the women in town are so frightened. It was bad enough when it had been two strangers who had died, but then when it became local women, it was just too much to believe. How can I help you?"

"I need to know if you sold the women flowers. Did you service the weddings?"

"Yes, hang on, let me get my ledger. Better yet, why don't all of you come inside?" She motioned for them follow her into her home.

Her home was clean and tidy, and very like the woman herself. The curtains and sofa were in pretty floral prints, and the walls were a soft pink. A large fluffy white cat was curled up next to the fireplace that had a roaring fire burning inside. On the table was a cup of tea and the book the woman had clearly been reading just before she had been interrupted.

"I'm Molly," Molly said. "Your home is lovely. So cozy."

"Thank you. My name is Agatha?"

"Do you live here alone?" Molly continued.

"Oh no, my grandson lives here too. His name is Charlie. He is out right now with his friends." Agatha opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a big book. "Here is the ledger," she said, handing it to Sherlock. "The first wedding was in August. That was the teacher, her name was Sarah. Then in September it would have been Jessica. Excuse me a moment, I'll make us all some tea."

"Thank you," Molly said.

"Oh it's nothing,"

Sherlock flipped through the book and found multiple entries for both Sarah and Jessica. Both women had placed huge orders. Centerpieces, bouquets, boutonnieres, and arrangements for the pews of the church were all ordered. Sarah had come to the shop to make her final payment three days before her wedding, and then Jessica had come the day before her wedding to make the final payment.

Agatha returned to the living room carrying a tray with tea and biscuits. Molly was grateful. She was feeling rather peckish. Agatha passed out cups to everyone and then extended the plate of biscuits.

"So how old is your grandson?" John asked.

"He's 27. His mother died when he was ten years old. I've looked after him ever since, except for when he was away at university."

"So what does he do?" Molly asked.

"Right now he works here at the shop. He is very good at floral arrangements and of course he does all the deliveries."

"So he went to Uni to be a florist?" Molly asked.

"Oh no, he was studying history and literature. He wanted to be a teacher."

"Oh, so is he looking for a position?" Molly continued.

"No, he dropped out in his fourth year. I have no idea why. His grades were very good and he was close to being done. Then one day he came home in a huff, locked himself in his room for two days and that was the end of it. I was disappointed at first, but he is such a good worker here and such a help to me."

"You are very lucky to have such a good grandson," John said.

"Yes. So what have you learned about these awful murders?" Agatha asked.

"So far I am certain that the murderer is a local. I know that is probably hard to believe but it is the only explanation that makes sense. We know the grooms didn't commit the murders, and it would be highly doubtful a drifter came through town four different times and killed four women without anyone noticing a stranger."

"Oh dear, I suppose that makes sense but it is such an awful thought. To think, I might actually know who is doing this!" Agatha worried.

"Excuse me," Molly said. "May I please use your facilities?"

"Of course, dear. Just go right up the stairs. There is only three doors, the middle one is the loo."

"Thank you." Molly excused herself from the room and went up. She couldn't help it. She peeked into Agatha's room and smiled. It was covered in floral prints just like the downstairs, only instead of pink being the dominant color; yellow was the most noticeable up here.

Molly stepped into the loo and flicked on the light. She had expected a very frilly and floral bathroom but was surprised to se the bathroom was plain. The fixtures were all basic white, and the shower curtain and rugs were all navy blue. She finished up her business, washed her hands and took a quick look in the mirror. She needed to touch up her lipstick but she had left her purse downstairs. She opened the door but before heading back to the others she spied into the third door. This was obviously Charlie's room. The room reminded her very much of her university days. The walls held several pennants for the University of Saint Andrews. There was a poster of the school mascot and coat of arms. The bed was decorated with a navy duvet the color of the bathroom shower curtain.

By the bed was a small desk that help a laptop and an alarm clock.

"May I help you?" a male voice asked.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to snoop. I was using the loo and saw all your Saint Andrews memorabilia out the corner of my eye. I almost attended Saint Andrews. Did you like it there?"

"Who are you, exactly?" the man asked. He was tall and exceptionally fit and muscular. He had long blond hair that fell over his forehead and a face that was rather boyish. He was wearing exercise clothes that were quite sweaty. He had obviously just come home from the gym.

"I am so sorry. My name is Molly. Molly Hooper. I am here with Sherlock and Dr. Watson. Like I said, I just came up to use the loo. I do apologize for being nosy."

"No harm done. I'm Charlie Eckhart. Excuse me, I need to change."

"Yes, of course." Molly stepped out of his way and then headed back downstairs.

"Everything all right, dear?" Agatha asked.

"Yes, I just met your grandson. My but he certainly is a big boy!"

"Charlie loves to work out," Agatha agreed. "He was small for a long time, and the other boys picked on him. Finally he had a growth spurt and shot right up. He started working out regularly so the boys wouldn't torment him anymore."

"That makes sense," John said.

Sherlock was still flipping through the ledger when he realized something important. "You delivered flowers to Veronica Marsh and Lorna Grady. There are entries here for both women."

He handed the ledger back to Agatha. "Yes, we did. Let's see, Veronica's was from Father Clark and Lorna's, oh those were from her fiancé Henry."

"You delivered them to both women just a couple of days before they were murdered," Sherlock said.

Agatha looked at the ledger. "Yes, I suppose we did. Charlie took Veronica's to her but I took the flowers to Lorna. I love to have an excuse to go up to Roane Hall."

Sherlock had not expected that. He assumed Charlie had done all the deliveries, making him something all the victims had in common, but Charlie didn't do Lorna's delivery. Still, Charlie surely knew who Lorna was. Like Duncan said, the town is small. Everyone knows everyone.

"Was Veronica and Father Clark very close?" Molly asked.

"Well, Veronica volunteered to clean the parish every week. She'd run the hoover and dust the pews, that sort of thing. I'm sure Father Clark sent her the flowers as a thank you for all she did for him."

"Well, we really must be off," Sherlock said. "I think I have all I need from here."

"Oh, sorry you have to go so quickly," Agatha said. She stood up to follow them out. "I enjoyed the bit of company. It does get lonely out here."

"I'll try to come and visit you once more before we leave," Molly promised.

"Thank you dear. It's so nice to get to talk to new people. During the season there are always people coming and going, but now that winter is coming, I spend much of my time alone."

Outside of the florist shop they decided it was time to head back, but first they needed to go to the market. The grocery store was rather small but it had everything they needed; fresh bread, cold cuts, cheese, tea, coffee, some fruit and veg, eggs, and several jars of baby food for Rosie. It didn't take long to make their purchases and finally they were back on the road to Roane Hall.

"I think it is safe to say that Charlie is a suspect, as is Duncan," Sherlock said. "I still need to meet this Father Clark, for odds are he would have been in contact with all four women as well."

"But Charlie and Duncan seem quite nice," Molly said.

"You thought Jim was nice too, until we all realized he was a criminal mastermind," Sherlock pointed out. "Besides…"

"Sherlock," John warned, but it was already too late.

"Besides what?" Molly asked.

"You think Duncan is nice because he was flirting with you."

"That's crazy," Molly said. "He was doing no such thing. We were just talking for a few moments."

"Since when does talking to someone require them putting their hand on your bottom?"

"He…he didn't," Molly sputtered.

"Only because I placed myself between the two of you. I assure you he was going for it," Sherlock said in no uncertain terms.

Molly turned to John for support. John hated getting pulled in the middle of this but he had to admit the truth. He looked at Molly. "He was going for it," John said.

"Fine, whatever," Molly said. She sat back in her chair and let out a small huff. Molly didn't speak to either of them for the rest of the drive back. She didn't speak to them when they carried in the groceries or while she put them away. John and Sherlock both gave a flinch when she finally went to her room and slammed the door.