When Isabel and Sherlock arrived at the scene, Lestrade walked right over to them. Isabel had tears threatening to spill, and the two men noticed. Sherlock simply scoffed, and Lestrade comforted her a little bit. She pulled herself together, and asked what they knew so far.
"We have identified the bodies. There were 2 women, two men, and a 5-year-old boy. The two women were 24-year-old Mary Young and 29-year-old Sarah Hudson. The two men were 25-year-old John Hudson, Sarah's husband, and 23-year-old Mark Johnson, Mary's boyfriend. The four were planning a party for the child, Freddie Hudson.
"A man broke into the flat at, roughly, 7AM this morning, and shot the women 3 times each in the chest and stomach. He then stabbed the two men 4 times each. Twice in the chest, twice in the stomach. The child was shot once in the chest. The man who broke in then called 999 and turned himself in." Lestrade said. He looked over at Sherlock who had his eyes closed, and when his mind palace.
"Isabel, who did you know out of them?" Sherlock asked, opening his eyes, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Tell me, now!"
"I—I knew all five of them. When I had the day off, I'd watch Freddie, who was a really nice kid. I lived with Mary, and her boyfriend would occasionally come over. I knew Sarah and John from Uni—they were in a lot of my classes. Why?" Isabel asked, worried.
"Was there anyone who hated the four of them, not counting the child, and would be trying to go after you?" He asked.
"No! Not that I know of! Lestrade!" She yelled, pushing Sherlock off of her and walking towards her boss. He looked over at her.
"Yeah? Did you figure something out?" He asked.
"No, I want to know who the man was. I need to see him." She said firmly, making sure what she said was clear. "If I don't, I won't be able to help. If I do, I'll be able to help greatly. Now, what was this man's name?" She demanded, wanting to know who did to four of the people that meant a lot to her.
"His name is Derek Marshall. Do you know him?" Lestrade asked, waiting for her reaction. Isabel closed her eyes, and breathed deep and slowly. She was trembling as she exhaled, her arms tightening and her hands clenched into fists that turned her knuckles pure white. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she bit her lip, trying to hold back sobs.
Turning away, she jogged over to her car, locking herself in. She tried to sob, but only choked on the air she was breathing in. She knew Derek Marshall. She definitely did.
It was her devil of a brother. He was a genius. He was cunning, clever, manipulative, a liar, and so much more. He was always coming up with different schemes he thought he'd get away with. He was plotting murders for people he hated.
But he was constantly trying to get the people Isabel cared about, so he could get to her. She had to get rid of him, no matter what it took.
She drove Sherlock to Scotland yard, staying completely silent the entire drive. He noticed tears rolling down her cheeks, but couldn't think of anything to say. When they reached the building, Isabel got out and was inside before Sherlock could look up from his phone. She ran to where Derek was.
When he saw her, he grinned, knowing she was furious. He had an innocent look on his face, even though he was handcuffed to the chair he was sitting in. "Hello, dear sister. It has been such a long time since I've seen you. How is my darling Isabel?" He asked sweetly.
"Shut up, Derek. What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, slamming her hands down on the table in front of him. "You killed a freaking five-year-old, but not until you killed the four adults, in front of him. Why? What did he do to you, Derek?" She asked, raising her voice slightly. He just shook his head microscopically, chuckling.
"Oh, Isabel, ignorant, innocent Isabel, you owe me something. And you have for quite a while-10 years. And I want what you owe me. When you give it to me, I'll stop. I promise." He blatantly lied.
"You bastard. I'm not giving you shit. You've killed so many people I care about! You are a psychopath! And yet, here I am, trying to tell me why you're doing this. Now tell me the damn reason, Derek. Or I will have no problem killing you myself." She yelled. Her hands balled into fists. She clenched her teeth, her jaw tightening. She looked behind the man in front of her. She saw her mother, whom she hadn't talked to in 8 years. Her cheeks flushed, and she raised her fist. She punched Derek square in the jaw. She pushed him down, still handcuffed, to the floor so he was on his side. She kicked him multiple times in the stomach, in the chest, and once in the face.
He'd have a lot of pain in his upper body for a while.
She walked out, running to where Lestrade and Sherlock were talking.
"Lestrade, Derek... He's my brother... And to be honest, he's been doing this for the past 10 years because I haven't given him something." Isabel said nervously, unsure of how the two men would react.
"What did you owe him that's driven him to kill people you love for the past 10 years? What is of a great value?" Lestrade asked. He was curious as to why her brother would do that.
"I owe him 20,000 pounds." She said quietly. Sherlock looked at her and she looked at the floor.
"Why would you..." He trailed off, cocking his head slightly to the side. Then he looked as if he just had an epiphany. "You owe him that amount because you promised-"
"Sherlock, not right now. I had told him that if he stopped committing crimes, I would give him the money he'd need to get back up on his feet. So he stopped. As I tried to save the money to give it to him, he started killing people I cared about. I refused to give him the money, once I had earned it all. He's been trying to get me to give him it, but I haven't. Now he's set on killing me, I think. I don't know." Isabel said, looking only at Sherlock. "Greg, I have to go. Come on, Sherlock. I'll take you home..." She said, sighing.
She walked out to the car, and got inside. Sherlock got in once she started the car.
"Why am I always wrong about you?" He asked, really not knowing. She shrugged.
"I don't know. I'm not exactly special, so I don't get why you can't. I'm not exactly an open book though, either. I give you the title and summary, and you have to guess from there." She said, closing her eyes and putting her head against the headrest. She turned her head towards him, keeping it on the rest, and opened her eyes. He immediately noticed her eyes were glazed over, and her cheeks were flushed. Her pupils dilated, and she gave a small smile.
"That makes two of us," he murmured, looking at her hand that was on the wheel. "Why are your knuckles bleeding?"
"Oh, I punched Derek... And kicked him multiple times." She stammered.
"Where did you punch him?"
"I punched his jaw, then I kicked his stomach, chest, and face multiple times..." She answered anxiously. What was his reaction going to be?
Isabel reached her left hand out (the one that wasn't bleeding) and caressed his cheek. Blood rushed to where her skin met his, making his cheek a soft pinkish-red. He didn't move, he just gazed into her eyes emotionlessly. She leaned towards him, touching her forehead to his lightly.
"Are you going to tease me again?" He asked with his velvet voice. She shook her head slightly, and just barely touched her lips to his.
Realizing what she was doing, she shot back into her seat, putting her car into drive. She drove to Baker Street, anxious to get out of her car and away from the man she was so close to kissing. She was having a hard time processing everything going on that day. Stupid hormones,she thought, rushing into her flat.
Picking up her phone that was charging in her room, she deleted all of the numbers she would no longer contact. The numbers she memorized by heart, just to have them be forced from her memory.
One thing was for sure. And that was the fact that she was going to have to move on.
The only she didn't know was how she'd do that.
A/N: I hope you like this chapter! I know they seem kind of short, but I try to end them when it seems like a good time to do that. Please review, it would make me so happy! :)