Chapter Fourteen: The Pantyhose Phantom
"But why would the killer strangle the victim with the stockings and take them? As a token or to hide the evidence?" I asked. I was beginning to get really frustrated with the case at hand. We have decided to name it "The Pantyhose Phantom." Sherlock believes that the likelihood that the killer will attack again is very likely, and he assumed soon.
"The killer took the stockings for both those reason, but the token side of things is more important." Sherlock said, I could almost hear him thinking.
"Meaning that he as intention to reoffend." I added.
"Yes, well done Clara." Sherlock said, giving me a smile rather than a smirk for once.
"Okay so far we have a small profile on the killer is that his is target is women aged between 30 and 40, has a liking for blondes, is likely to be sexually aroused by the women he tortures and is probably likely to reoffend." I say, looking down at my notebook and reading out what I had written over the past hour. The swelling in my ankle had gone down in that time and I was freely walking around once more.
"Okay, Clara see the space above you? I want you to start drawing the mind map for this case. The wool is in the third drawer in the table by the window, scissors should be there as well. I have printed the photos and they are by my desk. I am going out the back to do something." He says, getting up in an instant and strides to the back of the flat. I walk over to the drawer and open it, grabbing out the variously coloured bundles of wool along with the scissors. I grab the images of Sherlock's desk and begin to pin them up with the pins that I found next to them. As I was pinning up the final pieces of wool, connecting the stockings to the victim's neck. I heard a huge bang come from the back of the flat.
"Sherlock? Are you 'right?" I asked, jumping off the coffee table and walking towards were I heard the sound come from. "Sherlock?" I ask again. Still no response. I continue to walk to the back of the flat, but with more caution. I reach my room, assuming that is were the sound came from. I approached the door and heard shuffling sounds coming from inside the room. I grasp the doorknob and take a deep breath. I can't remember being this scared in my entire life. I twist the old knob and swing the door open. "Sherlock? Are you in here?" I call. I hear another bang; it was coming from the cupboard. I tip toe towards the cupboard door and open it as swiftly as I did the last door, I open it to find Sherlock, crushed under broken shelves and sheets and towels. "Sherlock!" I say, leaning down and lifting the large pile of towels that landed on his head.
"I did call for your help by the way." He said, groaning a little at the large amount of weight that was on his chest.
"Jesus Christ Sherlock." I say, removing the planks of woods from his chest and arms. "You scared me half to death. What in God's name are you doing?" I asked, removing the last plank, they were heavier than I thought they would be, forcing me to use two hands to lift them.
"I was getting you fresh sheets, the ones on this bed haven't been changed in months." He says, sitting up in the floor of the cupboard. I hold at my hand, offering my assistance, he grabs my hand and I pull him up, almost casing myself to fall over in the process. Once he was up, he picked up the required sheets, not caring if they didn't match and began to make my bed. I studied him as he began, wondering if he had ever done this before. Before he caught me looking, I began to tidy the mess he had made, pushing the shelves into the corner of the room. I tidied up the sheets and towels, placing on the shelves that hadn't been torn down. Once I was done with that Sherlock had finished making my bed.
"That took you long enough." I say. Hoping to get a laugh.
"Making a bed isn't as easy as it looks Clara." He says, chuckling a little at the end. I smiled. I followed him out of the room, turning off the light and closing the door. "Good job on the mind map Clara, very impressive." He says, giving me a small smile. I jump back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling.
"What time is it Sherlock?" I asked, turning my head to face him. He was sitting in his chair in his thinking position, legs crossed, hands positioned as if to pray and touching his lips. I knew what I had to do. I grab a bundle of wool and throw it across the room at his head. It hits him. I smile to myself; I am on a roll today.
"The time is 8:45pm." He says, looking at his watch.
"It's only 8:45pm." I say, as if he was joking. "Has Molly texted you or called?" I asked. I felt a little anxious.
"No." Sherlock says in response, not even batting an eyelash.
"Can I call her?" I asked. "Just to say goodnight?" I asked again. He didn't say anything. "Please." I added, hoping that it would work.
"My phone is on my desk." He says. "Get it for me." He demands. I don't budge. He did it to me so I will do it to me. He groans, finally realising what he was missing. "Please Clara." He adds.
"Sure." I say, getting up and jumping over the coffee table and strolling towards his desk. I grab his phone and hand it to him. He unlocks it and dials Molly's number.
"It's ringing." He says. Handing it back to me. I walk back over to the couch and sit down, waiting for Molly to answer.
"Sherlock! Is Clara okay? What has happened?!" A frantic Molly answers.
"Molly calm down, it's me. I'm fine. Calm down." I say, trying to calm her.
"Oh Jesus Clara you had me worried. Sherlock never calls, only texts. Listen honey, I'm so sorry that I couldn't make it home tonight, I have a lot of work to catch up on and I have a night student coming in to have some work experience. I am so sorry Clara I will make it up to you. I swear." Molly says, blurting it all out.
"Molly, it's fine, I'm fine. Sherlock got me fish and chips for dinner and we have been just working on the case. It's fine. Sherlock even replaced the sheets on John's old bed." I say, hoping that it would ease her.
"You're joking? Sherlock actually made your bed for you?" She asks.
"Yeah, I sprained my ankle whilst coming home from our flat to get my clothes. He had to carry me in." I say. There was silence on the other end of the line. "Molly?"
"Yeah, I'm still here, I just can't believe that he had done all that." Molly says. I see something move out of the corner of my eye, I look up to see Sherlock as strode over to me.
"Clara can I speak to Molly?" He asks. I nod in response and motion for him to wait one minute.
"Listen Molly, Sherlock wants to talk to you, so I just want to wish you goodnight and that I will see you tomorrow." I say.
"Okay Clara, goodnight and please get some rest. I will see you tomorrow." She finished. I hand the phone to Sherlock and walked into the kitchen. I grab a mug out of the cupboard above the sink and get myself a drink of water before heading off to bed. Sherlock is talking to Molly in a low mutter, I can't figure out what they are talking about, but I can guess it was about me. I ignore it, they are legally my parents now. Once I finish the mug of water, I place it in the sink and turn to see Sherlock is sitting at his desk.
"Goodnight Sherlock." I say, walking over towards him. "Please don't stay up, go to bed soon." I say, he looks as if he hadn't slept in days.
"I will." He says. He stands up, towering over me. "Goodnight Clara." He says. I open my arms up and stand on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Thank you for a great day Sherlock, I really had a lot of fun." I say. I feel his arms wrap around my small body.
"It's fine." He says. "I actually enjoy your company." He adds. I let go of his neck and step back, giving him a smile.
"As I do as well, I think we will get along." I say. "Well I'm off to bed, and you should as well." I say, walking down the hallway and into my room.
"Goodnight Sherlock!" I yell.
"Goodnight Clara!" Sherlock responds. I open my door and flick on the light. I quickly put on the pair of socks I wore today, not caring if they were dirty. I jumped into bed and pulled the blankets over me. I wrap myself up and close my eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep to the sound of the ticking clock.