The police arrived in a flashing furry once the dust had cleared. They wrapped bright orange shock blankets around the four surviving girls. The oldest being about 15 years old at max. They sobbed uncontrollably as their eight sisters, their own blood, were being carried away in slick, black body bags. One paramedic wouldn't leave me alone. She kept checking we over for cuts, scrapes, or gas damage in my eyes. Between constant check-ups, I desperately searched for Scarlett.
"Excuse me," I tried to ask the medic. "Have you seen a woman; black dress, black hair, really red lips, and she's about this tall?" I held up my hand about 5 feet and 10 inches off the ground about four inches shorter than me.
"I'm afraid I haven't, sweetie. Now, stop wiggling!" she scolded. I looked across the floor to see Donavan talking to two other men. I pushed away the woman and made a bee-line towards her.
"What the hell are you doing here?" was the only greeting I got from her.
"Where's Scarlett?" was the greeting I shot back.
"I didn't know you were here, let alone Scarlett! This could make you a suspect!" she shouted.
"Oh, cut the crap!" I snapped. "I was a witness! That. Is. It! I am tired of you thinking every single Holmes and every single Watson in London is the first suspect to every murder! I saw with my own two damn eyes a couple slaughter those innocent dancers and the only reason that those four are alive because Scarlett and I were here tonight! Deduction is the single most brilliant thing I have ever seen in my life and we can save more people together than you could ever save in whole damn career. So I suggest you tell me where my partner is, or so help me God I will never tell you what I know." This was it, I was going to get arrested.
Donavan just bite her lip and looked down. "Sherlock Holmes was a hero and he saved many lives. There is no doubt in my mind that his daughter could do the same thing. But you have to look at what you are getting yourself into, boy. Being paired up with her cuts your life in half, stay around Holmes for do long doing jobs like this, let me tell you, you will not die peacefully in your sleep. She probably went home, they do that."
I stared at her in disbelief. Donavan actually believe that we cold solve this case. "Thank-you." I turned to leave but Donavan called after me.
She quickly trotted up close to me and whispered; "If you find them, you have my permission to kill them. Just make sure to make it look like an accident."
I left her standing in the same place. Rain pounded the streets and roof tops as I called for a cab. I told the old cabbie to drive as fast as he could without getting us killed. When we finally pulled up on the curb of 221B I was Scarlett. She sat on the front steps still in her evening dress with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. I noticed that she was shaking, for the rain had soaked her to the bone.
I approached her slowly and sat down next to her in the rain. Scarlett sniffed, she was crying. This was first time I had actually seen the tears spill over and I didn't like it.
"What's going to happen to those girls, James?" she asked after about ten minutes. I couldn't answer right away.
"I'm sure that they will go to wonderful homes and good people will make sure good people take care of them." Sucky answer, I know. After doing research on the troop a few nights ago we discovered that their parents had died in a plane crash and they all lived together with the oldest sister who was in her mid-twenties. With a legal guardian, I really wasn't sure what was going to happen to those girls.
"I should have been able to save them-" whispered Scarlett.
"Shut-up," I exclaimed as nicely as I could. I took off my jacket and put it around her bare, wet shoulders. "We can't save everybody, Scarlett. We didn't know their plan, so how were we supposed to stop it?"
"I should have seen it coming."
"You were playing dead, you couldn't have seen it without him killing you. If anything I'm sorry I let that bastard anywhere near you."
"He wouldn't have killed me, James. The knew who I was from the minute they laid eyes on me." We were quiet for a moment. The rain water had drenched my button-up and my hair lie flatten on my head. I looked back at Scarlett and recognized the scene. The rain, the stoop, the sad glare into the distance; it was just like the picture of her younger self, except for the dress. "I never knew what he was doing to me," she said.
"What? Who?"
"My father." Scarlett turned her head to look up at me. "He managed to work deduction in everything I did growing up. I never even knew. I think he was training me for this."
"How old were you?" it was a tender subject but my curiosity got the better of me.
"It was a few months after I had turned three," Scarlett answered. "I couldn't believe he was gone. My mind wouldn't process it. Every night leading up to my third year, when I had a nightmare I would walk into his room and get under the covers with him. My dad would hold me close while I lie on his chest, just listening to the beating of his heart. His heart proved to me that he was real, that he would always be there. I remember having a terrible nightmare. The worst one in my life, and when I went to his room and climb under the covers, he wasn't there, James. He wasn't there." She had started to cry again. I put my arms around her, and stroked her hair. She breathed in deeply.
"You're real," she said then Scarlett smiled. "And a damn-good shot, I might add. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"
"Well, when daddy's an ex-army doctor, you tend to log in some hours in the shooting range." I laughed. "I was seven, I think, when my father first took me. That Christmas, I got my very first pistol."
"Most normal children want a bike, you know," Scarlett snorted.
"We are not normal, Scarlett," I said solidly.
"Damn straight."
"So why are we sitting out here again?"
"I can't exactly keep a key in my bra," Scarlett said sarcastically. "Do you have one?"