Chapter 3: A Study in Pink Pt2- Messages and killer cabbies.
A/n: I do not own Sherlock BBC. Rights to the respective creators. I only own my OC'S and original ideas.
Also, the transcript I use as reference for this story will be posted in my bio.
Thanks and Happy reading!
-TheCurlyGal6218
…..
When Elise entered the flat, Mrs. Hudson was bustling about in the kitchen. The old woman stood over the stove, scraping noodles around a wok with a wooden spoon. The heavenly aroma of soy sauce and steamed veggies wafted to the teen's nostrils. Oh how Elise loved chineese food.
"Hello dearie." Mrs. Hudson geeted cheerily. " I decided to make stir fry for you and the boys. Where's Sherlock and John?"
Elise wrinkled her nose slightly at the mention of her father. She still couldn't believe that he left her behind!
"My dad went to investigate something about the newest victim. Lestrade dropped me off and John took a cab. Said he didn't like riding in police cars." She sat down at the table. "Did Gizmo eat?"
"Oh he nibbled on some cucumber. Didn't eat to much I'm afarid. You may want to give him a bit more just in case."
Elise shrugged and walked over to the refrigerator. She was glad that her dad hadnt already started storing his experiments in there. While she had grown used to seeing severed limbs next to the milk jug, she wasn't eager to have the kitchen stinking of flesh again. She still remembered the first day she had discovered a severed head in the freezer at the tender age of six years old. It had taken two Twix bars and 3 fairy tales to console her.
Elise shook her head at the memory as she deseeded and sliced the cucumbers. Her life was just so weird.
Gizmo gummed hungrily on the cucumber slice. His big chubby cheeks swished the vegetable juice around before swallowing the crushed up pulp. Elise laughed.
"Wow, you really were hungry! It's a wonder you didn't eat for Mrs. Hudson. I thought you liked her." She nudged her nose against the animal's fur. He squealed from the back of his throat in contempt, nuzzling his owner's nose.
She fed her pet the rest of the sliced food by hand before carying him into the living room. She picked up her book from where she left it on the couch earlier and sat down to read.
Gizmo squirmed a bit in her lap.
"Stay still Gizzy." She scolded gently. "There's a good boy."
Elise opened her book to the where she left off in the last chapter. She had read the second installment of The Hunger Games Trilogy dozens of times, but she didn't care. This was her favorite book out of the series. She loved Suzzane Collins' writing style and had lapped up her words like a starving hostage upon first reading. Even now that she knew the story, her hands eagerly turned the pages, invigorated in the tale of a girl on fire.
Elise read the last sentence of the novel for the 13th time : "There is no district twelve."
It was so good.
Elise petted the now sleeping guinea pig in her arms. Her eyes drooped a bit. Gosh was she tired. It had been an extremely long day. If the 'suicide' cases weren't enough, she had to go to school tomorrow. It wasn't that Elise didn't like school, she just would rather be out solving crimes with her dad instead of listening to a boring Algebra lecture while disintersted teens pretended to take notes.
Was that to much to ask?
Elise sighed and looked at her now finished book. She was running out of things to read. Maybe I can stop at the bookstore afterschool tomorrow. Daddy probably won't mind. I still have money saved from that bet with Christina. Maybe she'll want to come too.
Christina Bentley had been her best friend since they were seven years old. The girls had met in Mrs. Millgrim's second grade class when they were paired up to perform a scene from a book of their choosing. Elise was pleasently surprised to learn that Christina shared the same deep love of books as she did. It was an immediate friendship.
Since both friends read well above the second grade reading level and didn't like the provided book choices, they asked the teacher if they could monologue a scene from Cinderella.
It was memeorable to say the least.
Apparently, the teachers thought that the girl's were going to show the Disney version of things rather than the original story by Brothers Grimm. In the original story, the stepsisters cut off their toes in order to fit into the glass slippers the prince was parading around, both desperate to wed him. Elise had brought in real severed toes from one of Sherlock's experiments to show her class. Christina and Elise hadnt realised that this may disturb some of their more sensitive classmates. They were suspended for 3 days for the violent portrayl of the fairy tale and Elise wasn't allowed near any of her dad's experiments for almost two months.
Ah memories.
After that, the two were inseperable. Christina would go to Elise's house and they would play detective, sciencetist, and anything else they could think of. If they begged enough, Sherlock would take them to the library and let them pick out some books while he deduced the the place's inhabitants. When Elise went over to Christina's, her mother would help them bake cupcakes in their kitchen. The girls would always lick the batter when she wasn't looking. Elise would come home, hyper from the sugar she consumed, arms laden with cupcake boxes.
They had always been there for each other. When Elise was diagnosed with GAD when they were eight, it was Christina who reminded her to take her medication and marathoned cooking shows with her while she digested her situation. When Christina's father left her family when they were eleven, Elise helped her babysit her little brother while her mother went on job interviews. A bond like that would never be broken.
Message sent 8:23 pm
Want to go to the bookstore with me afterschool?- EH
No reply. She must be busy. Elise pocketed her phone and sighed. The door slammed shut downstairs, signaling the return of her father. Gizmo started awake in her lap. She pet the nervous animal softly and whispered comforting words to soohte him. Still, the timid animal didn't relent and continued to wriggle in her arms. She was going to have to put him back before he got loose. Mrs. Hudson would have words with her if that was to happen and she didn't fancy a telling off.
Elise unlatched the wire cage and gently set her pet inside. He immediately rushed inside his little igloo and began playing with a green chew toy that was supposed to help his teeth. When Elise returned to the living room, Her dad was lying on the couch she had previously occupied. Three tan nicotine patches were stuck on his left arm. He stared up at the ceiling.
"Found anything?" she asked. Elise plunked down in his black armchair being that the couch was now taken.
He continued to stare at the ceiling.
"Not much."
Elise raised her eyebrows. She was finding that extremely hard to believe. "Really?"
"Really."
"You're lying."
He didn't respond for a moment. "What happened at the crime scene?"
Elise snorted. "Don't try and change the subject."
"I can and I will. What happened? Why did you panic? You havent panicked over a dead body since last year." He turned his head towards her. "What's going on?"
She bit her lip and looked down at the floor. If he found out…
"Nothing." She looked up and tried her best to hold his gaze. "I-" she was saved by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
Her dad gave her a look and turned back to the ceiling, closing his eyes. Elise knew better though, he would interrogate her later. Great. He pressed his fist against the patches on his arm, exhaling loudly as they took effect.
John bounded into the room a moment later, looking a bit flushed.
He nodded his greeting to the teen before his eyes settled quizzicaly on Sherlock.
"What are you doing?"
"Nictotine patch. Helps me think."
He lifted his right arm to showcase the patches before lowering it.
"Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work. Besides, Elise wanted me to quit."
"It's bad for your lungs." She defended. "You could get cancer. It smells awful too." She shuddered in disgust and turned to John.
"He used to come in from outside smelling terrible. I finally got him to quit two years ago."
John chuckled. "Well, good news for breathing."
Sherlock groaned. "Breathing. Breathing is boring."
"Is that three patches?"
Elise felt a dull buzz in her trouser pockets. She slid out her mobile and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the screen.
1 new message from Christina.
She clicked on the texting icon and waited as the page loaded.
Sounds good. Night xx- CB
Night - EH
Elise smiled in satisfaction then tuned back into the conversation.
"I was on the other side of London!" John was saying angrily.
"There was no hurry." The detective stated calmly.
John glared at him. Sherlock continued to stare uncaringly at the ceiling. He closed his eyes.
The veteran produced the device from his pocket. "Here."
Sherlock's eyes remained closed. He held out his hand expectantly.
John glowered at him. Then, with an begrudging sigh, walked over to the brash man and handed over the phone.
John cleared his throat. "So, what happened to the case?"
"Her case."
"Her case?"
"Yes, her case." He opened his eyes. 'The murderer obviously took it."
"Big mistake." Elise chimed in.
"Okay." The blonde man conceded. "He took her case- so what?"
"Its no use.' Sherlock murmured to himself. "We'll have to risk it."
"Risk what?" his daughter asked.
He ignored her and held out the phone to John. "On my desk there is a number. I want you to send a text."
"You brought me here to send a text?"
"Yes, the number on the desk."
He snatched the phone from him. The detective, oblivious to his anger, steepled his hands under his chin; Eyes once again closed. He only opened them once he noticed John hadnt gone to the table, but to the window overlooking the street.
"What's wrong?"
"Just met a friend of yours."
Elise almost choked. "A friend?" they asked in unison.
"An enemy really."
"Oh, Which one?"
"Your arch-enemy according to him. Do people even have arch enemies?"
Sherlock peered at him suspiciously. "Did he offer you money to spy on me?"
"Yes." John said truthfully.
"Did you take it?" Elise asked.
"No."
"Shame. We could've split the fee three ways. I was actually just talking about going to the bookstore tommorrow. Next time don't be so loyal."
Sherlock and John snickered.
"So who is he?"
"The most dangerous man you've ever met. And not my concern right now. On my desk – the number."
Elise frowned. She knew all of her father's enemies and associates from past cases. Who could possibly be that dangerous? What did they want with John?"
"Jennifer Wilson." John read aloud. "Wait a minute… wasn't that the dead woman?"
"Yes but that's not important. Just enter the number."
John typed the number into his phone with a shake of his head.
"Are you doing it?"
"Yes."
"Have you done it?"
"Ye- hold on!" he spluttered.
"These words exactly," Sherlock continued. " 'What happened at Lauriston gardens? I must've blacked out. "Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.'" The sound of the keys stopped as John looked up at him.
"You blacked out?"
"What? No, no!." He swung his long legs over the couch and stepped right over the coffee table.
"Just type it and send it quickly." He stalked over to the kitchen.
John continued his task and glanced at Elise over the edge of the phone. She was picking her fingers. Again.
He couldn't help what came out of his mouth next.
"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked. He immediately kicked himself for it.
"What?"
Too late now. "What you're doing with your fingers." He hesitated. "It's got to hurt."
She mulled this over for a minute. To be honest, she never even thought about it. It just kind of happened. She couldn't remember a time she hadnt done it. It was like second nature to her.
"Nope." She chose her words carefully. Her dad had materialized in the room now, listening intently. Their eyes were trained on her. Elise felt dread creep into her stomach, twisting her insides. Her throat was dry. She couldn't remember a the last time her throat was this dry. She looked down at ther hands, her ragged hands, trying desperately trying to form words. It was a simple question. All she had to do was speak. But she couldn't.
"I-" she croaked. She cleared her throat. "I don't know." She said with a forced smile.
John was beating himself up on the inside. Stupid. He looked for something to change the conversation. He saw Sherlock rifling through a pink suitcase.
"That's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case."
Elise's mask slipped back into place and she gaped at her father. "Oh my gosh.."
"Yes, obviously."
"Do you realise how bad this look's?"
"I guess I should mention I didn't kill her." Sherlock snapped.
"No shit, Sherlock." Elise bursted.
"Watch your language. I am your parent in case you've forgotten."
"Sorry." She picked at her fingers guiltily. "But you shouldn't withhold evidence."
"Do people usually assume you are the murderer?" John asked.
Sherlock smirked. "Now and then yes."
John dropped into the armchair near the fireplace, taking favor to his injured leg.
"So how did you get this?"
"I looked."
"Where?"
"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens ... Elise quit picking your fingers. As a matter of fact, sit on your hands."
Elise rolled her eyes and complied with a huff. "I feel ridiculous."
"That's the point. Now then, I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."
"Pink, you got all that because you realised the case would be pink?"
"Well chances are it wouldn't be blue." Elise reasoned.
"Why didn't I think of that?" John asked himself.
"Because you're an idiot."
John looked up in surprise, looking slighlty wounded.
"Don't worry, almost everyone is. Even her." Sherlock nodded torwards his daughter.
"Oh don't look so smug." Elise teased. "At least I have a smidge of tact."
"You?" he scoffed. "Tact? Elise you cant go an hour without making a sarcastic quip. You've no more tact than I."
"Exaggerated and untrue but I'll let you make it."
John cocked his head to the side. "He does have a point though, I've only known you a couple hours and the sarcasm radiating off you is… impeccable." He laughed as she scowled playfully at him.
"My sarcasm is completely warranted and if I remember correctly has made you both laugh on multiple occasions. We're getting off topic."
Sherlock shook his head. "Right, enough distractions. Now look," he pushed the case closer. "What's missing?"
"How should we know?" John asked.
"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one – that's her number there; you just texted it."
"Maybe she left it at home." John offered.
"She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home. Elise?"
She removed her hands from under her and started removing the bobby pins from her hair. They were beginning to hurt. "Well she couldn't have dropped it as there was no phone at the scene…"
She tugged the last pin free and set then deposited the pile on the coffee table. Her hands worked to tug her coal curls out of the scrunchie. "I honestly don't know." She winced in pain as the elastic snapped against her wrist. Her mane broke free of their prison, flopping in her eyes. Elise deftly brushed it out of her eyes and to the side of her neck. She spat out a bit that had gotten stuck in her mouth.
The group was silent for a minute.
She gasped abruptly and struck her palm against her forehead. "Ugh stupid!"
"Where's her phone now, Elise." Her dad asked. He knew the answer of course, but wanted to see if his kin had reached the same conclusion.
"The murderer!" She bursted out. "He could've taken it!"
John whipped around to face Sherlock. "You think the murderer has the phone?"
"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone."
"You. Made. Him. Text. A. Murderer." Elise said disbelivingly.
His eyes widened. "Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?"
Just as he said that, a ringing trilled throughout the now silent flat.
"Is that…" Elise whispered.
"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer ..." he paused dramatically. The phone stopped ringing.
"-Would panic." He closed the suitcase and walked over to where his coat was hanging. John and Elise stared warily at the phone in front of them.
John looked up after a pregnant moment. "Have you talked to the police?"
"Four people have died. There isnt time to talk to the police."
"Then why are you talking to me."
"Mrs. Hudson took my skull."
"He really likes that skull." Elise explained
"So basically I'm filling in for your skull?"
"Relax you're doing fine."
Sherlock looked at John expectantly. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"You could just sit there and watch telly."
"You want me to come?" he asked. There was a slight tinge of hopefullness to his tone.
"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention, so ..."
"Wait," Elise stood up. "Arent I coming?"
"No, you have school tommorrow and you nearly had a panic attack earlier. Forgive me if I think you arent exactly fit to go out chasing after a murderer at the moment."
"Earlier was just a fluke! I can handle it now. In case you didn't notice, I managed to gain control before it got to bad."
Sherlock gritted hos teeth. "Elise-"
"Please." She gave him her best puppy dog eyes and poked out her bottom lip so it quivered in mock sadness.
"No." He took one look at her crestfallen face and sighed. "I promise you can come next time. Right now, I want you to go get your things ready for school." He took a look at her hands and picked one up to examine it. "Bandage your hands up." He released her and gave her a quick peck on the forehead.
"Doctor Watson?"
He didn't say anything.
"Problem?"
John faltered a bit. "Yeah, Sargeant Donovan."
He looked away, exasperated. "What about her?"
"She said you get off on this- you enjoy it."
"And I said 'dangerous,' and here you are." He walked out the door.
John and Elise sat in silence. He looked at her in contemplation.
She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. "Go!"
John hesitated. He twideled his cane around in his fingers.
"Damn it!" he used his cane to push himself up and hurried as fast as he could after the detective.
Elise shook her head in amusement.
"Have fun." She said to no one.
/
Elise was bandaging her hands up in the bathroom when she heard the front door open. At first, she thought it was her dad and John returning from their adventure until she realised more than two voices were speaking. Intruders. She scanned the en suite for anything she might be able to use as a weapon, banging her foot against the cabinet in the process. She winced in pain and grabbed the first thing her hands settled on, a pink plastic razor.
Holding the makeshift weapon, she tiptoed on feather light feet, listening with her ear against the door. She could hear a mixture of male and female voices speaking. Through the wood of the door, one familiar voice registered in her voice.
"Bloody hell." Elise groaned loudly. She turned the handle and walked angrily out the door. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Lestrade and his team rummaging through the living room.
"Check in there." He was saying to a brunette woman.
"Lestrade, what is this?" she asked angrily.
He looked up, noticing her for the first time.
"Oh, didn't know you were here. Thought the flat was empty."
"Well you thought wrong. Why are you here?"
"We're er…" he scratched the back of his neck. "Drug search."
Elise scoffed. "Bullcrap." She spat. "He's been clean for years."
"Watch it! Sometimes I honestly think you forget you're a child and we're the adults."
"Well maybe I wouldn't if your lot didn't act like petty toddlers." She nodded her head torwards Anderson who was rifling through a box of her books. She stalked over to him and snatched a paperback from him, clonking him over the head with it.
"Careful with those! I swear to god if you mess up any of my books, you'll lose a finger."
She turned back to the DI, managing to find some calm.
"What's the real reason you're here."
He ignored her and continued his search.
"Fine. Don't tell me! My dad should be here soon anyway." She sighed and flopped on the couch, ignoring the sideways glances the bustling officers were giving her.
She picked at the new bandages on her fingers. There was one on each digit, the flesh colored top layer blending in (More or less) with her creamy skin.
To her surprise, Lestrade's tall form came to where she was sitting, towering over her.
"Your dad would tell you to stop." He said gently. "As he's not here, I'm taking that responsibility. Stop."
Elise shook her head slightly and sat on her hands. She looked up to meet his father like eyes. "Happy?" she asked pointedly.
"Very." He patted her shoulder comfortingly.
He walked back to John's armchair and sat down with a grunt.
Elise heard the sound of approaching footsteps and inwardly cheered. They were back.
The front door burst open, revealing the tall detective. He stormed over to Lestrade, his eyes crackling murderously.
"What are you doing here?"
"Well I knew you would find the case. I'm not stupid."
Elise laughed mirthlessly. "So that's why you're here! You're a bloody liar."
"You can't just break into my flat. Especially not when Elise is by hereslf at night."
"We didn't know she was here!" Lestrade defended. "We thought she had run off with you. And you cant withold evidence. Besides, we didn't break in."
"Then what do you call this?"
"He told me they were looking for drugs." Elise said with a roll of her eyes. "I told him they wouldn't find anything."
"This guy?" john laughed disbelivingly. "A junkie? Have you met him?"
"John…" Sherlock warned.
"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational. He's got a kid!"
"John, you probably want to shut up now."
He turned to face him. "Yeah, but come on."
He held Sherlock's gaze for a long moment, realization trickiling in.
"Talk about awkward." Elise muttered.
"No." John said.
"What?"
"You?"
"Shut up." He brushed off angrily. He focused on Lestrade.
"I'm not your sniffer dog."
"No, Anderson's my sniffer dog."
"What?" sherlock swiveled around to face the forensics man who had migrated to the kitchen.
"Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?"
"Oh, I volunteered." He said happily.
"They all did actually." Lestrade admitted. "They're not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they're very keen."
Donovan enetred the room holding a jar full of eyeballs.
"Are these human eyes?"
"Put those back!"
"They were in the micorwave."
"They're for an experiment!"
Elise raised her eyebrows. Apparently she had been wrong earlier about storing limbs in the kitchen.
"Keep looking guys." Lestrade announced. He adressed Sherlock. "Or you could help us properly and I'll stand them down."
"This is childish."
"Well, I'm dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in. I;m letting baby holmes in despite her being underage-"
"I would really appreciate it if you lot would stop refering to me as 'baby Holmes'. Its demeaning."
He sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. "Apoligies, Elise. But you don't go off on your own." He said to the consulting detective. "Clear?"
The latter glared at him.
"Oh, what, so-so-so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"
"Its stops being pretend if they find something."
"I'm clean! I don't even smoke."
He rolled up his sleeve to reveal his remaining nicotine patch.
"Neither do I." the DI rolled up his own sleeve so that he could see a similair plaster on his arm.
They both rolled their sleeves down, accepting this information.
"So lets work together, we've found Rachel."
Elise perked up at this. "Really? Who is it?"
"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."
Sherlock frowned at this. " Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?"
"Never mind that, we found the case." Anderson piped up. "According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath."
Elise's disdain for him grew with each word he uttered. He was worse than Donovan.
"I'm not a physchopath, Anderson. I'm a high functioning sociopath. Do your research."
He dismissed the bitter male and turned to much friendlier Greg Lestrade.
"You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her."
"She's dead."
"Excellent!" John looked at him fretfully. Even Elise was a bit perturbed.
"How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be."
Lestrade exhaled heavily. "Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago."
Elise frowned somberly. Poor lady.
Poor Rachel.
"No that's … not right… I mean… why would she do that?"
Anderson scoffed. "Why would she think of her daughter in her last few moments? You have a kid, wouldn't you? Yep, I'm seeing it now, sociopath."
"She wasn't just thinking of her daughter in her last moments. She scratched her name into the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It would have hurt."
"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he ... I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow."
"But that was ages ago. Why would-" he stopped and glanced at his own daughter. The image of her body lying broken on the pavement flashed in front of his eyes. He shuddered slightly. If Elise were to… he wouldn't know what he would do with himself.
"Oh."
He swallowed the lump in his throat and his emotionless mask slipped back on.
"Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?"
"Please god, let me live." John deadpanned.
Sherlock scrunched his eyes up. "Oh use your imagination."
Elise got up and walked over to Gizmo's cage near the kitchen, where the pet had began to squeak from all the noise. She didn't take him out, just rubbed her bandaged fingers through his white and black fur. His small body purred under her hand. She smiled slightly and tuned back into the conversation.
"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever."
He stopped his pacing. "She's trying to tell us something."
Mrs. Hudson came trotting into the room at that moment.
"Isnt the doorbell working? Your taxi is here, Sherlock."
"I didn't order a taxi go away." The detective began pacing again.
"He means that in the best possible way." Elise reassured her.
She nodded at her with a smile. Her eyes warily scanned the now disheveled flat.
"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?"
"It's a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson." John explained.
"But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers." She walked away, muttering about manners under her breath.
Sherlock groaned suddenly. Elise jumped, efficently startled by his behavior. "Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."
"What? My face is?"
"Doesn't it always." Elise hissed.
"ELISE HOLMES, I SAID BE QUIET. DON'T MAKE ME SAY THE WORD!" He shouted.
Elise sat there, utterly dumbstruck. He never used her full name. Partly because she hated it, partly because he also hated it. He. Wouldn't. Dare.
She shrunk back, absoulutely not wanting him to go through with his threat. Anderson or Donovan know her first name.
"Come on, think." He muttered to himself.
"What about your taxi?" The landlady questioned.
"MRS. HUDSON!" he screeched.
"Oi, quit yelling at everyone!" Elise defended her. "I don't like it." She stood up to go downstairs. "I'm going to see what Mrs. Hudson is going on about."
She padded out of the room in pursuit of the woman.
The poor old lady didn't deserve to be treated so brashly by her father. Although she probably knew that the detective didn't mean to shout at her, it would probably be a good idea to apoligize on his behalf.
Curiousity also played a factor in her actions. She remembered her saying something about a taxi and wanted to know what the deal was. They hadnt ordered a cab, so why was one apparentyl here?
Her feet scrambled quickly down the steps. The wood creaked slightly under the weight of the teen.
Elise hopped to the ground from the last step, scanning the perimeter for any sign of Mrs. Hudson.
"Mrs. Hudson." She called out.
No answer. Must've gone back to her flat.
Elise readied herself to knock on her door, when she heard a soft click behind her.
She whipped around, all thoughts of talking to the landlady pushed to the backburner.
A man stood in front of her. He wore old shabby clothes, not torn up but not what one would consider nice. A newsboy cap sat atop a gray haired head. Wire glasses framed cold, sinister looking eyes. His unsettling gaze traveled up and down Elise's body, not hungrily, but calculatingly.
He finnaly brought his gaze up to meet hers.
"I believe a cab has been ordered for the Holmes family."
/
A/N: Did any of ya'll witness the Sherlock Christmas special teaser that came out yesterday? It was great. If you havent I recommend looking it up. Watson's mustache has made a reappearance ;D
Thanks for reading! Review please?