CHAPTER 7: Good Night, and Good Luck.
The warehouse was cold and empty... just like those noir films where the lead character confronts his nemesis and comes alive after a fierce battle with guns… if he comes alive.
DCI Fielding got out of the car and let his eyes adjust to the light that was provided by it. The luxurious vehicle parked a few meters away.
When Greg was able to see, he spotted a silhouette, standing near some shipping containers. He approached hesitantly, until he reached a safe distance of one meter between him and the man.
''Good evening, Chief Inspector Fielding. I am delighted you came. We have many things to discuss.'', said the strange man.
Fielding looked at him from head to toe. His opulent clothing showed Greg that this man was either a powerful drug lord, a ruthless business man or a mysterious and important figure of political power. Either way, whoever he was, his presence showed Greg that he was dealing with a man way above his pay grade and that, not only made him feel uncomfortable, but more anxious than he should be.
''Who are you?'', asked Greg in a low, steady voice.
''All in good time.''
''No!'', he snapped. ''You tell me who you are, now!''
The man smirked. ''Be calm, Chief Inspector. You are in no danger. I'll reveal my identity at the end of this... meeting. But for now, I want you to listen to me carefully.''
''I don't want to listen!'', cried Fielding. ''You brought me here, you kidnapped me-''
''I offered you a ride, actually.'', he chuckled. ''Kidnapping you would be much more messy and difficult.''
''Sod off, creep!''
Fielding turned and took a few steps before the stranger's smooth voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
''I know your little secret.''
Cold sweat ran to the back of Fielding's neck. He felt his breath accelerating to the frantic beat of his heart. His right hand made spastic twitches, as he felt the other man walking and then standing in front of him, giving him a grin that not only would make the Cheshire Cat jealous, but that would haunt him for many nights to come.
''Who... who are you?'', he stammered.
''I am the man behind every door!''
''You seem tense.'', said Lestrade, taking her place opposite Joan.
''Do I?''
''Yeah, pretty tense. Everything alright?'', she continued and took a bite from her sandwich.
They were sitting at the cafe near the Yard having a break. Joan had joined the DI after her first day at her new job.
''Yeah. Just tired.'', nodded Joan and sipped her tea. ''The job was nice. I am full for the next two weeks before the regular doctor returns from her maternity leave.''
''Good!''
''So, how are you?''
''Pretty tense too.'', said Jenny and left her half eaten sandwich on her plate, wiping some crumbs from her mouth with the tips of her fingers. ''Halloween is approaching!'', she said in a dramatic tone.
''I know!'', exclaimed Joan with delight. ''Mrs. Hudson wants to organize a party and I'm trying to convince Sherlock to have it in our flat, since it's bigger. Do you think it's too early? I mean we've been flat mates for only three weeks…''
''Yet you killed a man to protect him.'', thought Jenny, looking at the doctor fondly. ''No, it's not.'', she finally said. ''Good luck. But anyway, I personally hate Halloween. As the day approaches, all sort of nutters go out and do something. We have complaints about destruction of private property, streaking, harassment-''
She stopped talking, when her cell phone rang.
''Lestrade.''
Joan watched her as she furrowed her brows, bit her lip and then said. ''I'll be right there.''
''Murder?''
''Yes… we tend to have that as well, on Halloween.'', she sighed and stood, arranging her warm tweed blazer over her dark blue turtleneck, covering her neck with her scarf and collecting her things.
''Is it about the vampire case you have?'', asked Joan.
Jenny stopped moving and looked at her. ''I can't tell you.'', she said softly.
''Jen, why don't you let Sherlock help you?''
Jenny buttoned her blazer. ''Is this Sherlock's doing? Did he make you have coffee with me to interrogate me?''
''No, no!'', cried Joan. ''No, I wanted to have coffee with you. Is just that Sherlock has been insufferable for the past two weeks, saying how easily he could solve it.''
Jenny sighed and sat at the chair again, looking at the blonde. ''Look Joan….''. She sighed again, scratching her eyes. ''His brother asked me not to have Sherlock in this case.''
''So Sherlock was right. You're afraid of Mycroft.''
''I'm not afraid of Mycroft Holmes.'', she replied sincerely. ''But he was and still is very eager to keep Sherlock uninvolved. It's the first time he does something like that. I don't care about Holmes, he does not frighten me, but he worries about Sherlock. And when it comes to Sherlock, his intentions are always true and honest.''
Joan was silently listening to the DI.
''Please Joan, don't say any of that to Sherlock.''
Joan nodded. ''Fine.''
''Thanks. I have to go now. See you.''
And with that she made a dash to the door, leaving the smiling doctor to finish her tea and cake on her own.
Joan felt a vibration in her baggy jeans pocket and quickly retrieved her phone from it.
Did she tell you anything? SH
Joan thought of her answer for a while and then tapped.
She didn't make it to the cafe. I went window shopping instead. I'll be home soon. JW
Ah, reporters! The joy of arriving at a crime scene, pushing your way through microphones and cameras, trying not to get angry with their persistent questions.
Lestrade ducked under the yellow tape and approached Anderson and the other members of the team, while the reporters kept yelling questions at her.
''I never thought I'd say this, but I'm really glad I see a clothed body in this case.'', she said, as she stopped above the body and Anderson.
''Cause of death; sliced wrists. She didn't put up a fight, of course, she was drugged like the others and also the stake through her heart was post mortem.'', Anderson gave his verdict.
Jenny sat back on her heels. As always, she fixed her hair in a messy up do so they didn't get in her eyes and put her rubber gloves on, as she looked at the young woman thoroughly.
''This is different.'', she said, as she took the victims left wrist in her hands and examined it.
Do no Evil. I suggest that if you don't want to find a fourth body with her arms cut off, accept the case.
Mycroft's voice popped in her head. ''Damn you Mycroft.'', she thought. The bastard was right... this was the forth monkey.
As the other victims, the poor girl was very beautiful, with pale skin, but bright baby blue eyes instead of green. Her hair was also ebony black. Lestrade let go of the girl's hand gently and gazed at her hair. ''Quite ruined…'', she mused as she saw that the girl's hair was burned with split ends. Also her eyes were smothered in dark eye shadow and her lips with bright pink lip-gloss.
Suddenly, she had an epiphany. A broad grin appeared on her face, making the rest of the team cast her bewildered looks.
''I dare say our killer slipped! This woman, ladies and gentleman, is a model.''
''How do you know?'', came the voice of her Sergeant from behind.
''Look at her. Tall, approximately ten pounds under her normal weight, gorgeous, hair fried at the ends, too much make up. Ergo, model. The dress is too impeccable, designer's clothing for sure and-''
She ducked once more over the girl and took her arm in her hands. ''You see this thin red mark here?'', she asked her team as she pointed the thin red line, above the one where the killer's knife had cut her.
''Is like from a bracelet.'', said Anderson.
''I bet this is one of those admission bracelets you wear when you attend those high fashion exclusive parties, clubs etc. I also bet it has the designers name on it. Her dress is upscale attire. She was definitely at a party.''
''How do you know these stuff?'', asked Henry Jackman.
''When did you get here to start with?'', asked Jenny who looked at him bewildered. ''Aren't you suppose to be at the Yard?''
Henry was sort of her protégé. He was actually her former DI's son who moved in London about three months ago to enter the force. He was still very young to actually solve cases on his own, so he was more occupied with occasional paperwork and mostly petty crimes, but he was helping on cases from time to time, since he was very keen. Henry was actually one of the few people, whom Sherlock liked. He was also an expert at handling and sometimes hacking accounts. ''For the sake of justice!'', as he always said.
''I've got the day off and I wanted to see the action.'', smiled the blonde haired man.
''Unless you can tell me who killed her you might want to pipe down.'', smiled Jenny.
''Then I guess you wouldn't want this.'', he said and passed her a small plastic evidence bag with a plastic black bracelet in it. ''You were right. That is the bracelet for that party. I found it in the trashcan down there.''
Jenny took the bracelet off the bag and saw its silver initials. ''R.J.'', she said out loud as she looked the object.
''Stands for the designers name, I guess.'', shrugged Sally from behind Lestrade.
''And I will ask again, how were you able to see that she is a model and these were designer's clothes?'', asked Henry eagerly.
''When you grow up with an older sister, who thinks the most important invention since the telephone is the Little Black Dress, it makes you an expert.'', she said as she bagged the evidence again. ''I can spot a model and a designer's clothing from a two miles radius like that!'', she continued and snapped her fingers. ''Speaking of which…'', she took her phone out and took several pictures of the dress, from every angle. ''Let's make a call to my dear sister. I sure she'll recognize the dress.''
''Lestrade, I don't think she is a model.'', said Anderson. ''Check out her teeth.''
Jenny looked the fangs of the girl. ''How could she be booked for a job or photoshoot, if she had those teeth?'', continued Anderson.
Jenny thought about it a little and then took her gloves off. She carefully touched her two front teeth and then her fangs.
''That's kind of disgusting.'', said Henry from above.
''Thank God you're not in my shoes then.'', she said and withdrew her finger. ''Those two are not real teeth. Are they veneers?''
''Probably.'', shrugged Anderson. ''I'll check''
''Check the others too… because if the teeth are removable, means the other three girls had veneers too and they might also were models. Which means all of them were modeling for the same designer, which means ladies and gentlemen that we have a lead.''
She got up, grinning. ''Damn, I'm still good!''
''It might also be a copy cat.'', shrugged Henry.
''Henry shut up! Don't spoil it!''
The team started collecting the evidence and the body. The reporters were still there, but Jenny wouldn't give them the satisfaction of an interview.
''Why didn't we see it the last time?'', asked Sally.
''Because we were occupied with throwing up at the sight.'', sighed Jenny. ''Besides we didn't have any evidence. Now we've got a dress…''
''Which, he probably didn't have time to remove.''
''Probably.''
''It kind of makes me wonder though, why no one searched for these girls. I mean, if they were models and were in a fashion show, someone had to search for them.'', said Sally confused.
''Fashion is a tough world, Sally… they don't give a damn if you are missing from a show. They just replace you.''
The reporters were told to leave the crime scene and finally left, since they knew no one was going to give them any information.
Jenny saw her colleagues collecting the last pieces of their equipment and made their way to their cars hastily, leaving Lestrade looking at the street.
''How I hate Halloween.'', she sighed.
''So I gathered you here to tell you about the last details and revelations.'', started Jenny in a dramatic tone.
Sally, Anderson and Henry were inside her office looking at the white board covered in pictures and notes.
''I want to have my break.'', nagged Henry.
''You can have it when I'm done; it's not even seven o'clock. Now, quiet.''
The young man sulked to his sheet and looked at the white board, filled with pictures and lines connecting each victim.
''As you see, I made a diagram of our locations. The first three, almost physically identical, killed and damned naked in the Highgate Cemetery.'', said Jenny. ''However-'', she continued and posted a picture of the fourth victim. ''The last girl was found clothed and damped outside a mall right in the heart of the city. She also had blue eyes, contrary to the other three who had green.''
''So we have a killer who doesn't have a particular type?'', asked Sally.
''It seems that the teeth and the way he killed them signify his perversion. The killer obviously had either a grudge against vampire lifestyle, or he is trying to confuse and direct us to the vampire underground scene. My guess is that he or she indents to trick us.''
''How so?'', asked Henry.
''My attention was first drawn by the unnecessary brutality and irrelevant way the killer acted.'', answered Jenny and posted another picture with three monkeys. ''See no Evil, Hear no Evil, Speak no Evil. The three wise monkeys, an old Japanese maxim. The first girl was gagged, the second had her eyes plucked off and the third had her ears cut off. If the killer has a sick imagination and thinks he's a vampire hunter, this wouldn't have been necessary. It would have been more logical to stuff their mouths with garlic and cut their heads off.''
''You watch too many Hammer Horror films.'', commented Henry amused.
''Which, dear Henry, proved to be very useful! Now, we have our fourth victim, who we found only two hours ago, with sliced wrists. And please welcome, the forth monkey, Do no Evil.''
She posted the forth monkey under their forth victim's picture and watched them, as they silently examined the contents of the board.
''Shall I continue?'', she asked and the other three nodded. ''Now… due to my, let's say experience, I guessed that the girls were models and I am very happy to announce that my guess was correct. I sent earlier the pictures of the dress to my sister and she gave me the details for our designer.''
Jenny posted the two remaining photos in her hands side by side. She then took the marker, connecting the designer with the girls, with four black lines and then writing down the name of the designer. ''Rose Hall, also known as Rebecca Jekyll, avant-garde designer and quite renowned for her gothic and eerie aesthetics. She is the designer of this particular dress.''
''Her name is oddly familiar.'', said Sally thoughtfully.
''It doesn't surprise me.'', shrugged Lestrade. ''Her mother is Patricia Hall, the cosmetics empress, owner of Hall cosmetics line.''
Henry whistled. ''Mummy must have helped Rebecca, judging by how young she is.''
''Indeed.'', nodded Jenny and turned to look at the photo of the young designer. ''She is only twenty eight, yet she has achieved more than any other young designer in the past five years. Her mother's bank accounts of course kick started her career, but as my sister told me, she has an extraordinary talent. And I have to agree.''
They all turned their gaze to the picture of the dress. The deep blue, floor-length dress had a slashed neckline and the dark color made the model's fair skin look like porcelain. The black lace details here and there completed the picture of a contemporary, yet spooky design. It was quite a sight to behold.
''Anderson what have you got on the girls' teeth?'', asked Jenny after a few minutes of silent observation.
''You were right.'', answered Anderson. ''The fangs are non-permanent dental veneers. These were molded to their existing teeth, are removable and reusable and were made from a flexible resin material. There are Do-it-yourself kits on the market, so they might do the work on their own. It's hard to tell, since I don't have their dental record.''
''I don't think we'll find their dentist even if we wanted to. A very experienced makeup artist might have helped them, it will be a dead end if we start asking.'', sighed Jenny and continued. ''I'm pretty sure if we bring miss Hall in for questioning she will recognize the girls. They were her models after all, she was the one who picked them and-''
Her speech was interrupted, when she heard the commotion outside her office. Suddenly the door of her office opened with force and Sherlock Holmes appeared, with Joan Watson following him.
''Aha! I knew it!'', he cried pointing at Jenny. ''You are working on the case!''
''Sherlock please let's go. This is not good.'', said Joan, looking at the others quite embarrassed.
''I'm here to work Joan.'', he replied and approached the bοard. ''I see you have another victim. The reporters were right… for once.''
''Sherlock, follow me.'', said Jenny quietly, grabbing him by the lapel of his coat and practically dragging him outside her office.
''I do not appreciate it when you burst inside my office!'', she said, as she ushered him inside an empty interrogation room and closed the door behind. ''Sit down!''
Instead of Sherlock, Joan sat down, looking between her flat mate and the DI.
''I don't want to sit down. I want the case!'', he hissed.
''Tough luck, you don't get this one.'', she replied firmly.
''Oh boy.'', sighed Joan.
''I know what this is.'', he said and towered over her, but Jenny didn't back away. She crossed her arms and waited for him to continue. ''This is Mycroft's work isn't it?''
Jenny shook her head. ''Your brother doesn't have to-''
''I know my brother better than you or anyone else will ever know him. Did he threaten you?''
''What?''
''He did something, didn't he? What did he do?'', said Sherlock and grabbed her by the shoulders shaking her.
''Sherlock stop!'', cried Jenny and pushed him away lightly, making a step back to add more distance between them.
''I know he did something, otherwise you would have come to me straight away.''
''I'm not that useless!'', snapped Jenny.
''Sherlock please.'', pleaded Joan and stood, walking to stand next to the consultant. ''Come on, let's go.'', she said and grabbed his sleeve gently.
''I'm not going anywhere, until she tells me why she doesn't want me on this case.'', he said to Joan and turned to look at Jenny.
Jenny sighed. ''Look Sherlock.'', she said quietly. ''This has nothing to do with your brother. I simply don't want you in this one. The truth is I want to do this on my own, entirely. I wish that you can respect that and don't push the matter further.''
Sherlock remained silent and still, scanning her face. After such a long time, Jenny was able to mask her feeling and expressions well enough to, at least, confuse Sherlock.
''We'll see… Come on Joan.'', he said and lightly placed his hand behind the doctor's back, pushing her to the door. ''If you need me, you know where to find me.'', he said before he closed the door.
''That was rude.'', said Joan, once they were outside the Yard.
''Rude?''
''Sherlock.'', she sighed and stopped. ''You can't just burst into her office and demand her to give you her case. That was humiliating.''
''Was it?''
''Oh, for God's sake!'', she cried and resumed her walking, this time with quicker and longer steps.
Sherlock managed to catch up with her in two long strides. ''You are angry.'', he stated.
''No, not angry. Just frustrated.''
''Why?''
Joan stopped again. ''How can you be so obtuse?''
''Obtuse?'', he asked, sounding offended.
''Such a brilliant mind and yet you are so stupid when it some to social skills.''
The detective looked at her almost hurt by her words. ''Don't judge me too harsh, Watson.'', he said and hailed a cab.
Joan felt guilty for a few moments before Sherlock looked at her again with that intimidating gaze of his. ''Are you going to follow?'', he asked, as he opened the taxi's door.
''No, I… I have a date.'', she answered.
''Oh.''
''Yeah... I'll probably be back at night.'', she said and buttoned her jacket up, since the weather was quite chilly.
''Of course.''
''Are we leaving?'', asked the driver impatiently.
''In a moment.'', replied Sherlock and turned to his flat mate again. ''You're not properly dressed. This jacket is too thin.'', he pointed.
''I'll manage.'', she chuckled.
With fluid motions Sherlock took his scarf off and placed it around her neck. He made a double loop brushing her hair from the soft, blue fabric. ''You'll be better with that.''
Joan smiled and cleared her throat. ''Thanks. I… I have to go. See 'ya!''
Sherlock watched her, until she was lost in the crowded street and then entered the taxi.
''Is she yours?'', asked the cabbie driver cheerfully.
''I beg your pardon?''
''The girl. Is she yours?''
Sherlock looked at the cabbie through the rear-view mirror. ''Yes… she's mine.'', he finally said.
''Lucky bastard.'', he chuckled. ''Where to?''
''Belgravia please.''
He sat back comfortably, securing his coat collar around his sensitive neck, feeling slightly undressed now that his scarf was missing, but focusing on the task ahead.
It was about time to meet his dear brother.
Mycroft yawned as he entered the elevator. It had been a long day and it was going to end with some dull paperwork. Then he was going to return to his home, have a long hot shower and then sleep. Nothing was more appealing to him at this point, than his cozy king size bed and soft pillow.
The doors opened and entered the warm room.
''Too warm.'', he mused and dropped his briefcase on his desk. He took his coat and jacket off, leaving him with his dark blue waistcoat and trousers. He then sat at his chair, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his waistcoat, to be more comfortable. In his office, his personal space, he could afford to be a little inelegant.
His desk phone rang and he sighed frustrated.
''Yes dear.''
''Sir, your brother is here to see you.''
''Of course.'', he simply said and put the handset back to its place. What could possibly Sherlock want?
The doors opened and Sherlock entered walking to stand in front of his desk. When he reached it, he stopped and looked at his brother through narrow eyes. ''What did you do to her?''
''Good evening to you too, Sherlock.'', smiled Mycroft.
''What did you do to her?''
''To whom, brother dear?'', he asked innocently.
''Cut the theatrics Mycroft!'', snapped Sherlock. ''To Lestrade, of course! What have you told her? Have you threatened her again, because she won't give me access to her high profile case!''
Mycroft laced his fingers together. ''Did it never occur to you, that the Inspector is capable of solving her cases all by herself?''
''Do you think I don't know she wants my help?'', he hissed.
Mycroft smirked. ''Trust me Sherlock, she doesn't want you in this one.''
''And how would you know?'', asked the younger Holmes suspiciously.
''Sherlock.'', Mycroft tutted. ''It doesn't take a genius to realize that the Inspector wants to solve certain cases all by herself. She is a very proud woman and she needs to prove to herself, as well as her team, that she doesn't need you all the time.''
''Lestrade is not like that.'', replied Sherlock darkly. ''She doesn't care about fame, or proving her worth. She only cares about solving the cases and putting the criminals behind bars.''
Mycroft's lips curled into a small smile of amusement. ''How little you know women.''
''I'm certainly not like you.'', spat Sherlock. His eyes darted over his brother's hands. ''At least I'm glad you got rid of that bitch of a wife you had.''
Mycroft tisked at the use of his words, but Sherlock ignored him. ''That was the least smart thing you've ever done.''
''It served a purpose.'', he said quietly.
''Anyway… let's not forget the reason why I'm here. What have you told her?'', asked Sherlock again eagerly. ''Why don't you let me have this case?''
''Lestrade is the one who-''
''Lestrade is afraid of something! Of someone!'', he cried and circled the desk. He turned the chair swiftly, 'till the body of his seated brother faced his and then put his hands on either mahogany armrest, thus trapping him.
''I suspect that someone, is you.'', he said huskily.
Mycroft was looking at Sherlock calm as always, his face unreadable. Sherlock was trying to understand him. Although he could everything about everyone in seconds, Mycroft had always been a challenge to him and as much as it vexed him, he couldn't deny that his brother always won in the end.
''I told nothing to Lestrade, Sherlock. She simply doesn't want you in this case. Now, why don't you go to your lovely new home, with your dear new flat mate? I dare say, I find Dr. Watson most agreeable. And very charming. Don't you agree?'', he smirked.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes so much, until they were merely a thin gray line. ''I don't know what you mean.''
''Nothing Sherlock. Just praising Dr. Watson. I dare say she's quite the catch. Shannon Sawyer must feel very lucky to find such a sweet, young woman to date.''
Sherlock straightened his back. ''Who is he?''
''Don't you know Dr. Sawyer, Dr. Watson's new boss? You surprise me brother.'', he smirked.
Mycroft saw his brother tense for a few moments, before he scoffed and said. ''I do not care. It is a waste of space in my mind, so why would I care to know who he is?''
''Indeed. Why would you?''
''Stay away from them, Mycroft.'', he said finally and walked to the elevator's doors.
''I will stay away from Dr. Watson if you wish me to.'', Mycroft said, making Sherlock halt and turn again. ''I won't kidnap her again or offer her any money. She has proved her loyalty and intact character. I have no doubt that she is an excellent companion. However, as far as Inspector Lestrade is concerned… no.''
''No?''
''My business with Lestrade are my own matter and therefore I will visit and meet her as much as I please.''
Sherlock was standing still, like a statue. The only thing that indicated his was alive was his eyes, moving frantically examining his brother's form. Then suddenly, those gray orbs widened in realization. ''Oh!''
Mycroft raised a well groomed brow.
''Oh, you poor man.'', he said and gave a throaty chuckle. ''Oh this is perfect!''
Mycroft's fingers twitched slightly. ''Sherlock stop being so irritating.''
The younger Holmes kept smirking. ''Oh, I'm going to have the time of my life!'', he said and made a spin, raising his hands in the air. ''You really can't be! This is magnificent!'', he kept smirking as he walked to stand again opposite his brother. ''I'm so glad.''
''Oh, are you?''
''Yes! I'd love to see you being tormented just for once in your life. It will be such a nice change to see you lose control.''
Mycroft laughed hollowly. ''Do you despise me so much Sherlock?''
Sherlock stared at him impassively. ''It's not a matter of scorn. I just want you to know how it is to feel angst. How it is to feel your heart being torn out… just like I felt.''
Mycroft couldn't bear to look his brother. His gaze fell upon some documents sprawled around his desk. ''It seems I've failed you as a brother. I'm sorry.''
''Too late.'', replied Sherlock huskily.
His eyes were still fixed on his desk, unable to lift them. He heard Sherlock's footsteps as he walked to the elevator again and didn't raise his gaze from those sheets, until he was sure his was gone.
''Caring is not an advantage.'', he whispered.
But how couldn't he care?
The next day Jenny entered the building of Scotland Yard, while humming an irritating tune. It was funny how the songs you hated the most, always stuck in your brain and it was impossible for you to stop thinking about them.
As the elevator reached her floor, she saw Donovan waving at her from her desk.
''Have you brought her in?''', she asked eagerly as she walked to her Sergeant's desk.
''Yeah. Henry is with her.''
''Alright, thanks!'', she smiled and walked away.
Lestrade entered the room. She saw Henry standing at the corner of the room and the woman sitting in one of the chairs, looking straight to the one-way mirror. Her gaze was so direct and strong that you thought she could see through it.
''Henry, you can leave now.'', said Jenny softly and Henry nodded.
''She's a tough nut to crack.'', he whispered in her ear as he walked next to her. He then left the room, closing the door behind quietly.
Jenny walked and sat opposite the wound woman. ''Tea?'', she asked and pushed the paper cup.
The young woman looked at her with her soft brown eyes. ''Why not? It can't be as horrible as your coffee.''
''It's not.'', replied Jenny. She placed the manila folder she was caring on the gray desk and opened it. ''What shall I call you? Rose Hall or Rebecca Jekyll?''
''I'm the same person Inspector Lestrade. Choose.'', she said, shrugging her shoulders faintly and sipping her tea.
Jenny was holding a piece of paper with the woman's data in her hands. She raised her eyes and looked at her. ''If you don't mind then, I'll call you by your given name.''
''Of course.''
Jenny's eyes were moving between the lines on the paper and the form opposite her. Rose Hall was a rather delicate and ethereal woman. She was petite, with curly brown hair that went past her shoulders. She had styled them in a way that black ribbons were tangling through her locks and ended in a complex braid. She was wearing a long, dark blue airy dress, probably her own design and a simple black coat on top. The dark clothes made her fair complexion pop.
''You're examining me Mrs. Lestrade.'', she said amused in her girlish voice.
''It is what I do, miss Hall.'', replied Jenny. ''Are you aware as to why you are here?''
''Your colleague informed me.'', she nodded.
''Good.''
Jenny then produced the photos of the girls and lined them in front of Rose. The designer's dark eyes roamed over the grotesque pictures and to Jenny's great surprise she didn't seem disturbed. ''You seem oddly calm.'', commented the DI. ''Most people would have-''
''I'm not most people.'', she replied softly and looked at her. ''I know those girls. They are… were my models. I have booked them for all my shows. They were in my fashion show two months ago in Paris. When we came back, though…''
She trailed her index finger on the pictures of the three first victims. ''Those three were gone after the first two fittings. I assumed that they couldn't handle competition. It's a tough world Inspector.''
''I am aware.''
Rose hummed. ''I simply replaced them. Her though…''
This time she took the last picture in her hands. ''That girl was going to be my star. She was the one to wear my great design.''
''Give me their names please.'', said Jenny and took her pen from her pocket.
Rose gave her a small smile. ''I'm sorry Inspector. I don't remember the names of the models I hire. It's not my responsibility. My PA though knows. I can give you her contact information.''
Jenny looked at the woman. Her delicate appearance was such a deceit. On the inside, Rose Hall was a ruthless and unsympathetic human being. ''Miss Hall, do you honestly want me to believe that you didn't know about the murders, even though it made such a fuss on the news?''
Rose batted her eyelashes. ''I don't care about the news, Inspector. All I care about is my work. I am an artist. I want my thoughts to be pure. I don't want to waste my time in frivolous matters.''
''Frivolous matters?'', repeated Jenny. ''Four innocent girls were brutally murdered and you consider this a frivolous matter?''
Hall raised an eyebrow. ''Don't be so vexed, Inspector. I sympathize for these girls, but it's not my problem.''
''It's my problem though.'', she hissed. ''I want you to give me your PA's phone and name and the venue of your next show.''
''As you wish.''
Her serenity was pushing Jenny slowly to her limits. She knew that some people were acting like they didn't walk on this earth and she respected every eccentricity of every human being. It was what made people different and special. But she couldn't stand the impassivity of this woman! Even Sherlock, who was the most nonchalant person she knew, would have been moved and certainly would have been intrigued. Her though. She was just… empty.
After Rose had given her the information she wanted, Jenny stood and collected the pictures.
''Inspector, is there a chance I might take the dress now.''
Jenny's mouth gaped opened. ''Excuse me?''
''The dark blue dress. It is one of a kind, you see.''
''Except the fact that it has a huge hole in the front, it is evidence, miss Hall. It is ours now.''
This seemed to move Rose a little. ''It is one of a kind, it can't be replaced.''
''Clothes can be replaced miss Hall.'', she replied firmly and moved to the exit.
''Inspector, can I tell you something else?'', said Rose as soon as Jenny touched the doorknob.
''Of course.''
''You should not wear this tweed jacket again.''
''Why not?''
''It's brown and you have dark skin tone. It makes you look too… brown.''
''Do I look brown?'', asked Jenny frustrated.
''Eh?''
''Do I look brown?''
Henry blinked his eyes multiple times. ''Apart from your jacket you seem fine to me.''
''Rose Hall told me I look too brown!''
''I thought you weren't interested in what other people say.'', smirked Henry as he walked with her to her office and sat at the chair opposite her desk.
''Well… I don't.'', shrugged Jenny. ''But, God! That woman was bloody infuriating!''
Henry smirked. ''Anyway the reason I'm here is because we've got a problem.''
''Small or big?''
''Quite large.''
''Spill it.''
''I tried to hack the accounts of the venue Hall told us, the Vampire Elite where her next show is going to take place in three days.'', started Henry.
''Yeah, yeah, go on.'', said Jenny impatiently.
''Well I can't.''
''What do you mean you can't?''
''I mean I can't. The website requires codes that every member must own and if you don't have them, you can't enter. They have codes for everything, the clients are so big that they practically built a digital Fort Knox and I can't get past it.''
Jenny remained silent for a while, lacing her fingers together and looking at the papers on her desk.
''Unless we have someone who owns a code name and a password we are never going to enter this club.''
Jenny lifted her head and looked at Henry. ''I know exactly who has the codes''
''Inspector, may I help you?'', greeted Anthea politely, without averting her gaze from her work. She was sitting behind her desk, next to the door of the elevator which led to Mycroft's office. The woman was tapping again furiously but this time on her laptop's keys.
''I need to see your boss'', sighed Jenny and tucked her left hand further inside her jacket's pocket, the other gripping the strap of her bag firmly.
Anthea finally looked at her from head to toe and then quickly wrote something, probably an email to Holmes asking for permission.
''He's expecting you'', she simply said, after a few moments and pushed the code to her keyboard.
The doors opened and Jenny got inside getting herself ready for the meeting.
Almost three weeks had passed, since the incident in the abandoned theatre and their last meeting outside the hospital.
Jenny pushed the images of these two nights to the back of her head and walked inside the luxurious office.
''Good evening Inspector.'', saluted Mycroft.
That man was looking like a bond villain from head to toe. The fire that burned in the mantelpiece behind his desk, his impeccable suit; the only thing that was missing was a Persian cat in his arms.
''I am pretty sure you know why I'm here'', she said, as she walked to stand in front of his desk. ''I need certain codes.''
He looked at her and gave her his distinctive half smile. ''I see that you finally decided to cooperate. How so?''
Lestrade clenched her fists. ''Not exactly.'', she shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. ''I'm sure you saw the news about the fourth victim.''
''I have.''
''Well, since we have a new clue and it seems that your Adler is a possible suspect of the case, I believe that our paths cross.''
''Believe me, Adler is the one you should look for.", he said and stood up, heading for one of the bookcases around the walls. He took a manila folder from a shelf and approached her. ''Here are the names and the codes that you will need. I took the liberty of giving you an alias that might prove very useful. There is also a wide variety of information on Alder.''
She took the folder and stepped back a little, not forgetting the last time. She decided to occupy herself by looking at the codes.
''Camille Maurer, Private Investigator.'', she read and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. ''Too obvious, isn't it? Irene Adler is not going to talk to me if she knows I'm a detective.''
''It's so overt, it's covert.'', he smiled.
Jenny simply sighed and kept reading.
''You might want to sit down.'', he said.
''What?''
''Please…'', he continued and motioned to the empty chair in front of his desk. The DI sat down, her eyes not leaving the file, trying to concentrate on the data and pictures in front of her and not to the elder Holmes, who was standing over her.
She sighed. ''Could you please stop looking at me?'', she asked, as politely as she could manage.
''Forgive me… Would you like to drink something?''
''It's a bit early for me.''
''Not for me though… I need one after that horrible meeting I had.''
Jenny merely nodded and kept reading, as she listened to Mycroft going to his mini bar, filling a glass of scotch and coming to sit opposite her.
''Concentrate!'', she thought. ''So… Irene Adler.''
The woman was fairly attractive, with an aristocratic beauty. High cheekbones, thin lips, green eyes, definitely gorgeous figure. Mycroft's reports revealed not only her profession as a Dominatrix, but also a fairly substantial number of other activities.
In the course of two years she had opened her own BDSM club right in the heart of the city, with an exclusive clientele.
Apart from her club, she was also a partial owner of the elite club Vampire Elite, where Rose Hall's new fashion show was going to take place on Halloween night. She owned 45% of the company's profits and she was more of a socialite rather than an entertainer.
Jenny decided to continue her homework at the Yard. It was still nine o'clock in the afternoon and with the codes in her possession, she would look more carefully in the woman's website, as well as her club's. Maybe, if she was lucky enough, she would spot familiar faces, or possible suspects.
She grabbed her satchel and stuffed the file inside, squeezing it between other papers, keys, phone and other useless things forgotten in there.
''Your body language indicates that you feel very uncomfortable.'', said Mycroft suddenly.
''You don't say.'', she chuckled awkwardly. "I must be off. Thank you."
As she stood, she felt his hand on her arm. She flinched to his touch. ''What?'', she asked jerkily.
Mycroft stood up. ''Too close.'', she thought and gripped the strap of her bag tightly.
''Inspector, I feel the need to apologize for my past actions.'', he said smoothly. ''I don't hate you. If I feel something for you is infinite respect and gratitude, for what you've done for Sherlock. I am a human after all and humans tend to say certain things that they don't always represent their actual beliefs and feelings."
Jenny nodded and her gaze rested on the floor. ''Fine.'', she said and draped the bag over her shoulder. She took a few steps to the elevator, before she stopped and turned. ''Actually, you know what? I don't really care.'', she shrugged.
Mycroft furrowed his eyebrows. ''I'm sorry, I don't follow you.''
''I really don't care what's your opinion of me. I don't care whether you like me or hate me.''
She sighed deeply and continued. ''After this case, which I hope to solve without further incident, I want Sherlock to be the only reason you and I will ever cross paths. I don't want you to kidnap me ever again; I don't want you to interfere in my work. I want us to remain strangers. I want you never to bother me again.''
Jenny blamed the flickering light coming from the fire. She blamed the weariness and exhaustion. She blamed the lack of sleep. For it wasn't possible that she just saw Mycroft looking hurt. It was a mistake… it had to be!
His face after four seconds, of what she assumed to be a look of pain in his eyes, became the same old, cold mask. ''As you wish Inspector. Good night, and good luck.''