"Fine, if you must know. I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Of course, I made up the job." The reply was confident, completely sure.
"Well, to put it simply, not."
"Not what?"
"Not the only one."
A shocked silence took over the small group as Sherlock scrutinized the woman in front of him. Rather than shrinking under the intense gaze as many people would, the woman seemed to stand taller. Her chin lifted slightly and her shoulder moved back a bit as she straightened her posture and gave as good as she got. The silent battle continued for several moments until a gentle shiver wracked the womans body and she wrapped her large coat tighter around her frame. Sherlock's expression shifted minutely and he reached into his pocket. Dialing quickly he called for a cab before putting the phone away. John watched as another shiver wracked the woman's frame before taking off his own coat and wrapping it around her shoulders, providing extra warmth from the thick, worn leather.
"Thank you." The woman offered quietly, her voice echoing just barely off the cobblestones around them. Unfortunately the added warmth only did so much, what she really needed was the get out of the cold, she could already feel the pins and needles beginning in her left arm, where they always did. As she began to shiver again John took pity and wrapped an arm around her. Gratefully the woman leaned into the warmth. By the time the cab arrived she was feeling a fair bit warmer and when Sherlock opened the door before John helped her in she even smiled gently. Once they had all piled into the cab and the woman had sat next the the heater which was one full blast she handed John's coat back to him.
"Explain," Sherlock said, much more gently than if he hadn't seen her still trying to rub the pins and needles from her left arm.
"Jezebel Blithe, consulting detective,"She offered as she held out her right hand. "We weren't properly introduced now were we?" Sherlock looked at the offered appendage for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and her took her hand firmly, but cautiously as he wasn't inclined to sadistic tendencies and didn't wish to hurt her. With that out of the way Jezebel sank back in the seat and curled up as she warmed by the heater. Sherlock leaned back and looked at her curiously. He was obviously attempting to figure out how such a thing could be possible.
"How old are you Jezebel?" Sherlock asked curiously.
"Why Mr. Holmes here I was thinking you were a gentleman. Dont' you know you never ask a lady her age?" She asked rhetorically with a smirk on her face.
"Well if you are even remotely similar to your namesake I don't believe I am in the presence of a lady," Sherlock replied easily with his own smirk.
"Are you implying that I am a hussy?" Jezebel asked affronted. John gasped in barely concealed horror and as Jezebel looked at him she couldn't hold back and a laugh escaped her. "Oh calm down John, you look like you're about to drop dead of a heart attack." Of course this didn't calm John any, merely make him flushed in mild embarrassment and anger and Sherlock's own chuckles joined Jezebel's laughter. Eventually the two calmed down and the redness in john's face disappeared. It took a few moments before Sherlock paused, the wheels in that ridiculously large brain churning as he looked at Jezebel. His eyes narrowed and she merely shrugged it off. While Sherlock did still appear annoyed he also had a look of admiration, which made John incredibly curious as to what Sherlock had thought of.
"Twenty two," Jezebel suddenly said Sherlock merely nodded but John, of course, looked confused.
"Sorry, what?"
"Sherlock asked how old I am. I'm twenty two," She answered before turning and looking out the window. John thought silently for a moment.
"That seems a little young," She said and the two detectives looked at him. "I mean it seems young for this sort of thing, for the whole being a genius detective thing."
"Nonsense, these things start early John. People like me, well us, start to notice patterns among humans at an early age. We can't help it. Besides, I'm only twenty six," Sherlock answered. Unfortunately John's face only got even more confused.
"He means to say that we can't help but to look around and notice similarities, the patterns between behavior, appearance, and thought processes. Like how we can tell that you're wearing that shirt for the second day, you meant to run laundry yesterday but Sherlock dragged you off to something and it didn't get done," Jezebel explained. John's face cleared of its confusion though his brow then wrinkled in thought as he tried to figure out when to do laundry. The silence held for several minutes before John looked around them curiously.
"Where are we going?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Home of course," Sherlock responded. John looked to Jezebel.
"Where are you going?"
"With you," Jezebel replied easily as she crossed her legs and tapped her foot against her calf. Jezebel was watching John carefully, like a predator studying it's victim. John turned away from that intense gaze to look at Sherlock only to notice him tracking the movement of Jezebel's foot. Seeing he would get no help there John turned back to Jezebel.
"You're not living with us though," he stated. Jezebel merely grinned at him and leaned over to pat his cheek as she cooed slightly.
"Oh now I see why you keep him Sherlock, so cute. Like a little hedgehog, all prickly on the outside but so cute and adorable otherwise." Jezebel turned to look at Sherlock who had a small grin dancing across his lips.
"I'm not 'kept'..." John began affronted as they pulled up to the curb in front of 221 Baker Street. Before he could finish Sherlock had opened the door and climbed out before offering a hand to help Jezebel out as well.
"I thought I wasn't a lady," she commented with a smirk to Sherlock who merely offered his elbow to her. Taking it she continued to smirk before leaning in a saying something that had Sherlock laughing quietly before they headed to 221. John scrambled out and was about to head into the building as well when he heard a throat clear behind him. Sighing John turned around. Apologizing he handed the cabbie a couple of bills before finally heading into 221. After re-opening the closed door John paused on the welcome mat and looked around. The foyer was filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes. Some were classic brown cardboard and had things like books and clothes written on the side. Others were clearly for transporting scientific materials, some were even cooled to keep whatever was inside cold. Hearing voices echoing John looked past the boxes and found the door the C open. Curiously he walked over to the door and listened. Mrs. Hudson's voice echoed up to him and he began to descend the stairs. Once at the bottom he found Jezebel and Mrs. Hudson talking, well Mrs. Hudson was talking and Jezebel was listening, as Sherlock sat on the floor close by.
"I wish I had known you were coming sooner dearie so I could have had things ready. It's going to take me a while to get things sorted down here for you," Mrs. Hudson was saying. Jezebel smiled kindly at the older woman.
"Oh it's not a problem Mrs. Hudson. I'm sure I can find somewhere else to stay for a few days," Jezebel replied as she looked around and John followed her gaze. 221C was rough at the moment. The carpet was a grey color and had worn thin. The walls were in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and it likely needed new insulation, if it had any at the moment.
"I hate that you have to find somewhere else," Mrs. Hudson announced and paused in thought for a moment before her face lit up. "You could stay with Sherlock and John up in B," Mrs. Hudson began. Sherlock groaned and stretched out so he was on his back and looking at the ceiling. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind," she finished pointedly as she looked at Sherlock before turning to John. "Right?"
"Oh, um yeah of course. No problem," John answered nodding slightly as well.
"Thank you both, I won't be a bother. Promise," Jezebel said almost sickly sweet. She gave them a victorious grin and Sherlock frowned slightly. John paused for a moment curious as to why that would have Sherlock upset. The wheels in John's head turned and figurative smoke was just beginning to come out of his ears when a light bulb seemed to go off and his jaw dropped slightly as he looked at Jezebel. She had played them, she played them like a well trained musician plays their instrument. She had always planned to end up in 221B, she was counting on it, but why? John turned to Sherlock whose frown had deepened so he was now scowling at the ceiling. Apparently Sherlock couldn't figure it out either. Despite that John's head was still spinning, how is it that someone so like Sherlock, who was frankly horrible at social interaction, could be so manipulative? Manipulation required a certain social skill that Sherlock lacked yet Jezebel seemed to have mastered. Something that Jezebel said had Mrs. Hudson tutting and hauling them all upstairs. John followed still slightly dazed as they moved from C up to B where he then merely fell into his chair. Sherlock has trudged up still frowning slightly before pulling out his phone and ordering take out for them all. Meanwhile Mrs. Hudson bustled about the kitchen complaining about the mess that Sherlock had made and making tea for everyone. AS that went on Jezebel sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair and looked at John.
"Are you okay, John? Something wrong?" she asked as she looked at him. John watched her carefully and couldn't find a single hint that she might have been anything except sincere.
"No, nothing wrong. Just a little dazed," he replied and Jezebel's face broke into a grin.
"I do tend to have that effect on people," she said with a smirk before standing as Sherlock came over to fall into his chair gracefully. Once he was settled into his chair he reached out and handed Jezebel one of the two cups he had in his hand. Gently Jezebel took the cup and looked down at the milky substance inside it. Inwardly she grimaced, her parents had always tried to get her to drink more tea as it was all they ever drank. However she just couldn't understand the point of drinking watery leaves and never enjoyed the taste. Outwardly she politely thanking Sherlock and took a sip, smiling slightly as she did so. "Mrs. Hudson sure does know how to make a good cuppa."
"That she does," John answered as Mrs. Hudson came over to hand him his own cup.
"Oh you flatter me, but don't come to expect this. I'm not your housekeeper," Mrs. Hudson said with a stern look.
"Of course not Mrs. Hudson, I would never dream of treating you that way," Jezebel soothed the older women's ruffled feathers lightly until the frowns in her face disappeared and only her few wrinkles remained. "Your hip must be bothering you terribly dear, you're holding yourself strangely," Jezebel commented and sure enough Mrs. Hudson was leaning fully on one leg. "Perhaps you should go and take your soother?"
"Now I don't take order-" Mrs, Hudson began angrily and John had to hide a grin behind his cup, no one could tell Mrs. Hudson what to do. Except Sherlock on occasion.
"I'm not ordering," Jezebel said looking hurt. "I am merely concerned about the state of your health Mrs. Hudson, I loathe the thought of such a sweet thing like you in pain." Mrs. Hudson found herself looking down ashamed but also bashful and John watched on in awe. Jezebel truly was a master at playing people, she had gotten Mrs. Hudson to feel ashamed. "Would you please go take that soother Mrs. Hudson? I'd feel much better once you do," Jezebel finished and Mrs. Hudson nodded.
"Of course dear." And Mrs. Hudson was gone, down the stairs to A to take her herbal soother. John shook his head quietly and Sherlock was back to frowning as Jezebel seated herself more comfortably on the arm of his chair. For a while silence reigned in the flat aside from the gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth and the occasional splash of tea as someone tea as someone took a drink. Soon though a knock from downstairs was heard and Mrs. Hudson's footsteps echoed as she headed to the door. A gentle whoosh of air from the door sent a slight rustling up the stairs.
"Sherlock, someone's at the door for you!" Mrs. Hudson called up from the lobby. Sherlock silently pulled himself up out of his chair, placed his cup on the overly crowded coffee table, and headed down the stairs to replace Mrs. Hudson at the door. A small conversation and a few minutes later Sherlock re-appeared in the flat with his arms full of chinese take out. After dividing out the boxes and sticking a pair of chopsticks in each Sherlock handed out the food before taking his seat again. John struggled with the chopsticks for a moment, even a year after eating chinese take away regularly he still struggled with the eating utensils. Sherlock and Jezebel both wielded the chopsticks easily though and they began to eat silently. Minutes passed and the only sound was of them chewing before Jezebel checked her mobile then set it down next to her. A few minutes later Sherlock did the same. This pattern repeated, every five minutes one of them would check their mobiles. Finally after Jezebel had checked the screen of her mobile for the fifth time John was curious enough to ask.
"What are we doing?"
"We are waiting," Jezebel answered as she placed another pinch of noodles in her mouth.
"Waiting for what?" John asked.
"A sign-" Sherlock began.
"Any sign really-" Jezebel continued.
"That Lestrade-" Sherlock again.
"Has any type of brain in his head-" Jezebel interrupted with an eye roll.
"And has found the suitcase." They both ended up finishing together. John looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment.
"Why did you do that?" John asked again.
"Why did we decide to wait?" Jezebel fired back.
"No why did you- nevermind," John stopped mid-thought before going back to his food. The two detective looked at each other in confusion for a moment before sharing a secret grin and turning back to their food. Eventually the food was gone and the group was back to playing the waiting game, but the two detectives seemed to get more and more impatient with each passing minute. Finally the front door opened and footsteps appeared on the stairs leading up to B. Sherlock and Jezebel were up so quickly that John had missed them moving and they watched Lestrade come up the stairs, a pink suitcase in hand. Sherlock rushed Lestrade up the stairs and Jezebel cleared a spot on the coffee table.
"Wait, this is still evidence-" Whatever Lestrade had been about to say was cut off as a box of latex gloves just barely cleared his nose as it flew into Sherlock's hands. Jezebel then moved closer to the coffee table as she pulled on her own pair of the blue gloves. Sherlock quickly snapped his on and together they began to rummage through the case.
"Did you check under-"
"Of course I did do you think I'm-"
"No of course not, what about-"
"Yes, did you check the-"
"Of course I did. It's-"
"Not here." Jezebel finished their private, half conversation as she flopped back against the couch. Sherlock joined her on the couch and they both frowned, or pouted in Jezebel's case, at the open bag in front of them. About half a minute later both of them seemed to light up as they turned to each other.
"Do you still have the-" Jezebel began.
"No I believe you-" Sherlock replied.
"No it was in your coat pocket."
"You reverse pick-"
"My pocket has a-"
"Right." Sherlock concluded and they both paused before fighting to get to Sherlock's dark coat and begin searching the pockets. Sherlock found the small piece of paper they seemed to be looking for and Jezebel handed him John's phone to type in the number. John paused for a moment looking at the phone before checking his pockets quickly.
"You-" John exclaimed.
"Hush," Jezebel said and gave a small gesture. John glared but Jezebel and Sherlock ignored him in favor of typing in a quick message and sending it. They both then sat back against the couch and waited. The silent question hung in the air before Sherlock and Jezebel seemed to sigh.
"What's missing from this?" Sherlock asked the blogger and the DI. John shrugged and Lestrade shook his head.
"Her phone," Jezebel supplied for them.
"Perhaps she left it at home," John said and both detectives shook their heads.
"She has a string of lovers she's careful with her phone," Sherlock answered and Jezebel nodded.
"Likely wouldn't let it out of her sight," she said quickly. There was a lull as the two consulting detectives waited for something to click with the two men in front of them. Finally John seemed to light up.
"The killer, you think the murderer has her phone," John supplied.
"Maybe the killer took it from her." Jezebel said casually, picking at her nails.
"Perhaps she left it when she left her case." Sherlock stood as he said this and began to put on his coat,
"Either way-" Jezebel stood as well.
"The murderer has her phone." They concluded together and turned to each other with a small frown before turning away. John continued to look confused.
"Wait, why would you text the murderer? What good will it do? Why-" John stopped as Requiem of a Dream began to play quietly from Jezebel's phone. They all paused and turned to look at the screen of the smart phone vibrating on the table, the screen displaying in bold print 'number withheld'
"A few hours after his most recent murder, he gets a text that he believe can only be from his latest victim." Jezebel explained to John as the phone stopped ringing.
"A normal person would just ignore the text we sent, but the murderer…" Sherlock trailed off and looked to Jezebel.
"He'd panic." John surprised both detectives by being the one to announce the obvious conclusion and pulled them both from their silent conversation. Jezebel smirked and moved over to the coat rack to grab her jacket and pull a hair tie from it's pocket.
"Very good, John," Sherlock said with a grin. His tone very similar to the way one may tell a dog good job as he went about gathering his own coat and scarf as Jezebel tied her hair up in a messy bun so it stayed out of her face.
"Yes, perhaps in a year or so you won't need your hand held quite as much," Jezebel quipped before she and Sherlock turned to head down the stairs and out to the curb. A cab pulled up to the sidewalk before John realized what was going on and he swore violently as she grabbed his coat and rushed down the stairs, just barely making it into the cab before the door closed. The cab pulled away from the edge of the road and began to move across town before John paused.
"Wait, where are we going?" He asked confused only to receive a smirk from the female detective. Sherlock was paying no attention to him at the moment.
"You'll see soon enough." She said. Sherlock turned to John and opened his mouth to answer when an elastic band snapped between his eyes and he froze turning to Jezebel with a frown. "You can't expect him to learn anything if you spoon feed him everything Sherlock." She reprimanded and Sherlock paused for a moment longer, almost telling John anyway before sitting back in his seat and looking out the window as he sulked.
"That doesn't answer my question. Where are we going." John asked frustrated.
"Think about it John." Was the only reply.