"Who do we trust that we don't know?" She asked Sherlock and moved to sit on the table in front of him. "Come on genius think, what do most people use everyday? Something we wouldn't think twice about seeing?" She paused, watching as the gears turned in Sherlock's head before he jumped up excitedly.
"We need to call Lestrade."
Sherlock was the one to grab his phone first, dialing in the number he hit send before quickly throwing the phone to John. John fumbled for a moment as he caught it before lifting it to his ear. The flat was now a whirlwind of activity, the two detectives were moving around in perfect synchronization. When Sherlock went over to grab his coat he grabbed Jezebel's and threw it to her while she was grabbing a few odds and ends. Easily she reached out and caught it as she tossed a few empty, plastic vials over her shoulder and Sherlock caught those.
"What is it now?" Lestrade's voice came from the other end and John startled when he remembered that he was holding the phone. John watched the activity for a moment longer as he tried to figure out what to say.
"Ah, well Sherlock and Jezebel seem to have had a revelation though I'm not sure what." John replied, almost bitterly as he was left out of the loop yet again. Jezebel swiped the phone and hit speaker, laying it on the table as she sat back on the sofa, Sherlock quickly following her. The flat became strangely still now that the two weren't moving anymore and John quickly sat down as well.
"The killer, he's a cabbie." Sherlock spoke up.
"Did you ever find out who Rachel is?" Jezebel asked quickly, getting a hostile look from Sherlock. Jezebel didn't even look at Sherlock when she grabbed a pressure point and shoved him to the floor. Sherlock sat on the floor stunned for a moment before he stood and haughtily tried to recover his dignity.
"Actually yes, she was Jennifer Wilson's only daughter." Lestrade said.
"Perfect, now we need to find her, wait, was?" Sherlock said quickly before pausing and looking at Jezebel in confusion. Jezebel gave him the same confused look and looked down at the phone as John moved closer and sat next to Jezebel warily.
"She's dead." Lestrade's voice sounded tired as he said this and Sherlock immediately lit up.
"Excellent is it connected?" A pad of paper hit Sherlock's forehead and Jezebel gave him a disapproving look which Sherlock merely rolled his eyes at.
"No, she's been dead for fourteen years. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter."
Sherlock's face fell just as Jezebel's lit up.
"Rachel, oh she's brilliant." She exclaimed and grabbed John's laptop from his desk. John almost went to protest before Jezebel gave him a look that had him settling back into his seat.
"What do you mean Rachel?" Lestrade's confused voice came through the speaker, it sounded as though he was about to question further when Sherlock interrupted, the same conclusion coming to him merely seconds after Jezebel.
"Lestrade, there should be an email on the tag of the case." Sherlock said and moved over to the couch, shoving it's current occupants over to make room for himself. Plastic crinkled over the phone as Lestrade shifted the case before reading out the email. Jezebel's fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed it in.
"Wait, we don't have the password." John said as he watched the screen realizing what they were doing.
"Yes we do." Jezebel said confidently typing in the password. "Rachel."
The screen displayed a loading sign only for a moment before opening up to her homepage.
"Great you can read her emails." Lestrade said sarcastically.
"She didn't have a laptop, she did all her work from her phone-" Jezebel began
"Meaning it's a smartphone-" Sherlock continued
"So it has gps." They finished together. They shot each other a look before Jezebel rolled her eyes and clicked on the locate my phone. Once there Jezebel looked at it confused before clicking refresh and blinking at it again. When the screen didn't change she rushed over to the window.
"Sherlock." She said quietly.
"What is it? Where is it?" Sherlock asked as he went for the computer.
"It's here." Jezebel replied and at that Lestrade started swearing.
"Listen you two stay put, don't do anything rash-" Lestrade's rant wasn't finished when the two were down the stairs and heading out the front door. By the time John had picked up the phone and went to follow they were in the back seat and the cab had taken off.
"Dammit!" John yelled in frustration and began to explain to Lestrade.
In the back of the cab it was silent, Jezebel and Sherlock sitting as far from each other as possible as the cabbie drove them around London. The tension all but crackled in the vehicle.
"How did you find me?" Sherlock asked the driver.
"Oh, I recognised yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock 'olmes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!" The cabbie replied. "Didn't recognise yer friend 'ough." Jezebel grinned silently and continued to look out the window.
"She's not important." Sherlock said. Jezebel's grin fell and was quickly replaced by annoyance. "Who warned you about me?"
"You've got yourself a fan Mr. 'olmes." Was the only reply from the cabbie. Silence descended on the group again and the two in the back watched the world outside go by. Eventually they pulled up to Ronald Kurr Further Education College. The cabbie got out and opened the back driver's side door for Jezebel. She stepped out and looked at the college, listening as Sherlock got out on his side.
"Why here?" Jezebel asked. The cabbie shrugged.
"It's open; cleaners are in. Good thing about being a cabbie; you always know a good quiet spot for a murder. Surprised more of us don't branch out." He answered.
"How do you get them in the building. Just walk them in?" Sherlock asked and the cabbie shook his head.
"I use this." The cabbie pulled out a gun and placed it against Jezebel's temple.
"Hm boring." Jezebel said quietly and the cabbie grinned.
"It gets better. I don't need this with you, you'll follow me." He said and lowered the weapon to place it back in his jacket. The cabbie quickly turned on his heel and purposely walked into the building. Jezebel and Sherlock paused only a moment before sighing and moving to head into the building. Once they arrived at the steps however, Jezebel quickly stuck her foot out and tripped Sherlock. As the taller man sprawled on the ground Jezebel smirked down at him.
"You should watch where you're going. Seems important." She verbally jabbed and headed into the building leaving Sherlock to scramble up on his own. The taller detective quickly followed her in, easily catching up due to his longer strides, before falling into step next to her. They walked in silence following the sound of the cabbie's footsteps until they ended up inside a large classroom. Solid looking wood tables were bolted to the floor with plastic uncomfortable looking chairs. On the board were the notes from that days lesson, so the cleaners hadn't come to this room yet then. The two detectives looked at each other.
"Well what do you think?" The cabbie asked. Sherlock turned to him drawing his attention as Jezebel continued to pace around the room.
"Think about what?" Sherlock asked, keeping the cabbie's attention. Jezebel slithered up behind the cabbie and just barely brushed her hand over his pocket, easily snatching the pill bottles that had been sitting there.
"Your the one who's going to die here."
"No I'm not."
"That's what they all say." The cabbie pulled out a chair and sat down. "Now, shall we talk?"
Jezebel headed over to the window and inspected the bottles which she had taken from the cabbie before moving to sit with Sherlock across from the cabbie.
"It's a little risky bringing both of us here." Jezebel said confidently as she leaned back in the chair the cabbie scoffed.
"You think that's a risk? This is a risk." The cabbie went to reach into his pocket and felt around for a moment before a confused look crossed his face. He reached into the other pocket. Jezebel cracked a grin and, reaching into her own pocket, removed the three bottle.
"Two of these bottle hold the poison, right?" She asked with a grin as she picked up a random bottle. "Can you tell which one is the fake?"
The cabbie sat there stunned into silence before shaking his head. "No, they're identical."
Sherlock grinned and the two detectives leaned forward. "Do you still want to play the game?" He asked lowly.
"Enough talk, let's play." The cabbie said quickly, grabbing one of the bottles randomly.
"Oh we are playing-" Jezebel began.
"This is our move-"Sherlock continued.
"You have shaving cream behind your ear."
"There are traces from where it's happened before."
"No one is there to tell you-"
"So you live alone."
"Yet there is a picture of children in your cab."
"The mother's been cut out, if she died she'd still be there."
"The photo is old-"
"But the frame is new."
"You think of them often."
"But you don't get to see them."
"What a shame." Jezebel interrupted with a quiet click of her tongue. "She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts, must be awful." Despite her mocking words there was a flash of something in her eyes, true sympathy. Sherlock was far too busy to notice and the cabbie was too nervous so the moment passed with none the wiser.
"And yet there's more your clothes-"
"They're recently laundered"
"But everything you're wearing is at least…" Sherlock paused and the two looked at the cabbie for a moment.
"Three years old." The said together.
"You're keeping up appearances-" Sherlock started.
"But you're not planning ahead." Jezebel finished and they both sat back.
"Here you are on a kamikaze killing spree."
"Why?" Jezebel asked rhetorically. The cabbie's reaction was instantaneous, his face, which had been slack and mildly confused, smoothed out and went black. The two stared at him for a moment before a collective lightbulb went off.
"Three years ago is when they told you." Sherlock said softly.
"Told me what?" The cabbie asked.
"That you're a dead man walking." Jezebel finished just as quietly.
"You don't have long do you?" Sherlock asked. The cabbie looked between the two of them before a small, bitter smile crept across his face. He hung his head for a brief moment before looking at the two detectives again.
"Aneurysm, right 'ere." The cabbie said and tapped lightly at his temple. "any breath could be my last."
"And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people." Sherlock concluded.
"I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can 'ave on an aneurism." The cabbie responded.
"There must be something else. You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about-"
"You are good, ain't you?" The cabbie asked.
"But how?" Sherlock insisted.
"When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs." The cabbie responded.
"Or serial killing." Jezebel commented sarcastically.
"You'd be surprised." The cabbie said with a grin.
"Surprise us." Jezebel and Sherlock said at the same time.
"I 'ave a sponsor." The cabbie replied. Shock appeared on Sherlock's face while Jezebel's eyes narrowed, she had a vague idea of where this was going.
"A what?" Sherlock asked.
"Very eloquent." Jezebel muttered sarcastically.
"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think." The cabbie replied.
"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" Jezebel beat Sherlock to the question.
"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock 'olmes?" The cabbie asked. Silence descended on the room as the detectives watched the cabbie. "You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, but you're just a man ... and they're so much more than that."
The two detectives frowned in distaste.
"What d'you mean, more than a man?" Sherlock asked.
"There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter. Time to choose." The cabbie was quick to pull the bottles close to him and inspect them quickly. Sherlock was busy puzzling over what the cabbie said so he didn't notice the slight shift in the cabbie's face when he identified the 'safe' pill, but Jezebel did. The cabbie placed the bottles in a straight line down the middle of the table but Jezebel had seen what the cabbie knew. The bottle with the 'safe' pill looked brand new, aside from a few fingerprints on it. The bottles with the poisons inside them were scuffed from the previous victims who had likely taken the poison then dropped the bottles or scratched the glass against a table, the floor. or anything really.
"What if we don't choose?" She suddenly asked. Sherlock's attention turned to her, as did the cabbies. "We could just walk out."
The cabbie let out a disappointed sigh as he pulled out the gun again.
"You can take the chance of guessing correctly, or I can shoot you." He answered. Jezebel looked at the gun pointed between her eyes. She turned her head slightly to look at Sherlock and raised a brow at him. Sherlock responded with a barely noticeable nod, he had seen what she had. Jezebel turned back to the cabbie and grinned.
"We'll take the gun." She said confidently.