Chapter four
Kyle Dobson was not the kind of person you'd expect Olivia Harding to date to say the least. Sherlock had been questioning the boy for an hour by this point and was getting sick of the boy's terrible grammar, colloquial language and cluttered household. He was the very opposite of the appearance of Olivia's family. Apparently Olivia and Kyle had started dating at the end of their GCSEs and been together ever since, and, while Olivia's parents thought Kyle was a 'nice lad' it was becoming increasingly more evident to Sherlock that Kyle was not quite as nice as Olivia's parents had thought. He had clearly been involved with large amounts of underage alcohol abuse, had a smoking habit that he just couldn't seem to kick and to top it all off had been kicked out the house by his parents and was now living on benefits. Olivia had clearly just been dating him because he had the 'bad boy' appeal and it was a way of rebelling against her parents who unfortunately had to say they liked him in order to stop their daughter running away with such riff raff. At several points in the conversation Sherlock nearly revealed this point to Kyle at which point John had kicked him rather sharply in the shin, after all, Kyle looked like the kind of guy who would stick you with a knife and ask questions later and John didn't really fancy being stabbed today. Well, not ever really.
"… An' I'm sorry mate but there aint much else I can tell yous."
"Did Olivia have any enemies? People she fought with?" Sherlock asked exasperatedly.
"Nope. 'Liv was well nice, everyone got on wiv her. I guess there was this one bloke can't remember 'is name for the life of me. But he really liked 'Liv, he'd asked 'er out a couple of times but she's rejected him each time. Only 'ad eyes for me. Maybe 'e got jealous?"
"Perhaps. Was he at the party last night?" John asked, he could tell Sherlock was getting fed up.
"I couldn't for the life of me tell you. I was fairly pissed last night. I'm sure Eliza 'as a guest list." Kyle rubbed his head, "Screw this 'angover. Me 'eads poundin'"
"We'll leave you to recover, thank you for your time Mr Dobson." John cut in before Sherlock could speak again. He too was also getting fed up with this nicotine smelling house. He stood to shake Kyle's hand before dragging Sherlock from the untidy and foul house.
"To Eliza's house? We probably need that guest list, it's likely to be the most reliable source we have. I would imagine it's fairly difficult to have gate crashers when you are on a boat. Although, if she's as well off as Olivia's parents looked then I wouldn't put it past people to try." John said as they walked along the side of the Thames, Sherlock glaring into the murky depths of the water.
"Yes, though the same goes for murders. Hail a cab… I hate this bloody river."
"You will solve the case." John said soothingly, hearing the tension in Sherlock's voice.
"When do I not?"
"I know Sherlock, but you are trying to solve everything in a day at a million miles a second, not even on your best cases you do you solve things in a day." John pointed out gently. "You will do it, you always do. I have complete faith in you. Just stop chomping at the bit and getting wound up because things aren't happening as fast as you would like."
"But it is a serial killer John!" Sherlock earned them a few odd looks for his sudden outburst.
"You normally like the serial killer cases."
"But not when there's only been one kill. I have to solve it before the yard does!"
"You don't need to be so competitive all the time you know 'Lock."
"Yes but they only ask me because I'm smarter than them! If they solve it before me I have got no chance."
"They will not."
"They might."
"Can I get that on tape?"
"Shut up John." Sherlock elbowed John, chuckling slightly. "Shall we hail another cab?"
"Or maybe one day one of us could learn to drive."
"Where is the fun in that?"
"You get to speed instead of attempting to persuade the cab driver too and it minimises the likelihood of you getting poisoned by dodgy cabbies."
"Firstly, are you sure that's a good idea? And I knew which pill I was taking."
"Yeah. Right." John disagreed.
"Are we still arguing about that? I knew you'd come for me."
"We'd only just met!"
"You hit on me!"
"That has nothing to do with it and no I did not."
"Of course John."
"Do not flatter yourself."
"I don't have to you, do that for me."
"You pout if I don't."
"You like it when I pout."
"Taxi!" John hollered, ending the argument and hailing a cab.
After a half an hour cab drive and an obscenely large taxi fee the consulting detective and the doctor found themselves in a more upper class section of London, the kind of area you'd imagine Olivia's best friend to live. Clean, white, semi-detached housing, each with a small garden out the front, many framed with a perfectly painted white picket fence. Eliza Smith was every perfect teenage girl from those awful Hollywood films about teenagers in high school. She enunciated her words and spoke with clear Received Pronunciation. She dressed pristinely, applied her make-up in naturalistic amounts (she had, Sherlock observed, matched her lipstick and perfume brands and the French manicure she had applied to her nails had been done herself, evident by the barely noticeable dots of white on her finger tips), had perfect posture and was incredibly polite. She was not a killer, the girl had clearly never done a day's work in her life, bar horse riding, which she appeared to have done in gloves due to the barely noticeable calluses on the across the joints on her fingers on the underside of her hands. She led Sherlock and John through to her living room, offered them a drink each and apologised because her parents weren't in.
"I am Sherlock Holmes and this is John Watson, we're here from Scotland Yard and we are investigating the death of your friend. We'd like to know the names of everyone at the party." Sherlock said, shaking Eliza's hand and taking a seat and the large cream couch.
"I'll just go and grab my list and then we can go through this together. It's so awful that this happened to her, she was lovely. Really lovely, couldn't have asked for a better friend." Eliza dabbed gently at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief ('an embroidered handkerchief, what teenager carries an embroidered handkerchief?' John thought to himself, 'she probably hand stitched the pattern herself.')
"Thank you Miss Smith." Sherlock replied politely, waiting for her to exit the room before nudging John, "Even I was not bought up like this." He whispered, glancing around the overly clean house. Seconds later Eliza re-entered the room holding a piece of paper.
"This should be all of the names, however I fear their may have been some gate crashers, my bouncers were not brilliant at their job despite the frankly awful sum of money Mummy and Daddy paid. Still I suppose they did their best." Eliza sighed sitting opposite Sherlock and John. "Now are you looking for any names in particular?"
"Not a name as such. We were speaking to Olivia's boyfriend, he said there was a guy who fancied Olivia, and we wondered if you'd asked him to your party?"
"Oh Will- Oh what did 'Liv say his last name was. I can't remember; apologies. No I didn't invite him, though he could've easily got on the boat. There was a group on Facebook; he probably would've been able to view the date, time and location of the party. God, I feel like such an idiot." Eliza dabbed again at her eyes.
"Don't blame yourself. Was he friends with Olivia on Facebook?" John tried to soothe the sniffling teenager.
"I don't think so, I think 'Liv blocked him when he kept bothering her."
"And you weren't friends with him?" John asked, praying they could trace this suspect.
"No, 'Liv complained about him constantly, it would've seemed a bit hypocritical to go and friend him."
"And age wise was he older, younger, same age as Olivia?" Sherlock asked.
"Older I think, maybe by a year or two. I think they met at some house party a few years ago. I wasn't there so I couldn't tell you much about it. House parties are not my idea of fun."
"Understandable." Sherlock said bluntly, "I think that's all we'll need for now, thank you very much for your help." He gave a quick smile and rose from his chair, "We'll show ourselves out."
"We could always get a tube home you know." John suggested as they made their way back onto the street.
"Tedious." Sherlock replied instantly as he strode along the pavement searching for the main road.
"Sherlock, we're miles away from home, it's going to cost us a ton of money to get home if we hail a taxi." John protested.
"I hate trains; they're filled with too many stupid people."
"I suppose we could always ring Mycroft…." John trailed off.
"No. No way. We are not ringing my brother."
"Sherlock you don't have to be so obstinate. I'm just trying to find the most cost efficient way to get home. What's the problem with your brother?"
"He's my brother."
"Yes okay Sherlock I understand you and your brother have this completely ridiculous out of proportion amount of sibling rivalry and god knows I can only cope with one stroppy Holmes brother at any given time but that does not explain why we cannot call Mycroft to come and pick us up."
"Because he'll know everything and rub it in that I haven't worked it out yet."
"Are you saying Mycroft is smarter than you? Can I get that recorded so I can piss you off whenever I feel like it?"
"No." Sherlock said flatly, stopping dead and leaning against the street wall. "Let's just get a cab John."
"Fine." John scowled and flicked his foot at a pigeon that had decided to venture slightly to near to the doctor. "Let's go find a cab."
They spent two hours searching for a cab to take them home. By this point John's shoulder was beginning to ache due to the cold. Sherlock, as usual had simply made unhelpful snide comments and John was ready to give up and get the tube and leave Sherlock to find his own way home. He had mentally resigned himself to giving up when of course (in very much the same way your front door keys turn up when you've accepted you won't find them) a free taxi came down the street. They found themselves home relatively quickly (well as quickly as possible in London rush hour traffic) and John scowled and forced Sherlock to pay the even bigger cab bill. Before heading back inside to pour his old congealed cup of tea down the sink and make a new cup of tea which he might actually be allowed to finish this time.
"So how are we going to find this guy Will? He sounds like he could be a suspect."
"I don't know John." Sherlock said flatly.
"Someone must know him."
"I'm sure they do but we don't."
"We'll find him. How about we find his school?"
"If he's older that Olivia he won't be at school. God, he could be anyone."
"The cabbie from the drive home?" John suggested with a smile and earned a laugh from Sherlock's side of the room.
"Possibly, though that has already been done once." Sherlock stood up and crossed the room to share the couch with John. "Can we get takeaway tonight?"
"We had takeaway last night." John reminded Sherlock gently, "Though I suppose if you're willing to eat properly…"
"I was just going steal your noodles actually…" Sherlock teased.
"And what happens if I'd rather have pizza?"
"You'll give me the olives."
"Are you just intent on stealing my food Sherlock?"
"What's yours is mine and what's mine is yours." Sherlock replied wisely, John simply rolled his eyes.
"Of course, which is why you can steal my laptop but I can't have yours."
"Yes but I don't have a blog you like to hack which is something I can do from your laptop. I like correcting your grammar and spelling."
"More like you like to make sure I'm praising you as much as possible and not mentioning things like your lack of knowledge on the solar system."
"It's unimportant."
"I bet you weren't thinking that when you were staring at that fake painting."
"Shut up John."
"So, pizza?"
"Screw you."
"Alright." John retorted with a smirk, Sherlock elbowed him in the side.
"Aren't you funny today?"
"Oh come on you set yourself up for that."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
Needless to say their bickering went on for the majority of the evening.