The run back was in silence as we fly back to Baker Street. John hangs his coat up on a hook in the hallway of 221 like a good boy, whilst dad and I throw ours onto the bottom of the banister for Mrs Hudson to pick up later.
"Okay, that was ridiculous," John remarks as we stand against the wall, panting heavily. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."
"And you invaded Afghanistan," dad points out, and John and I laugh, and are soon joined by dad.
"That wasn't just me. Why aren't we back at the restaurant?" Dad waves a dissmissive hand.
"Oh, they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway."
"So what were we doing there?" John asks and dad clears his throat.
"Oh, just passing the time," dad replies, and looks at John. "And proving a point."
"What point?" John asks, looking puzzled. He still hasn't realised that he's just run halfway across London without his cane.
"You," dad says as he turns towards the door of Mrs Hudson's flat. "Mrs Hudson!" He yells. "Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs."
"Says who?" Asks John quieter, than big mouth next to me.
"Says the man at the door," dad answers, looking towards the door. John turns his head in time for Angelo to knock the door three times. John turns back to face dad in suprise, and dad smiles. John stares at him for a bit before he turns and walks down the hall to open the door. Dad and I still lie against the wall, sighing heavily. We listen to the conversation, and I wait for Johns reaction.
"Sherlock texted me," Angelo begins, smiling and holding up the walking stick. "He said you forgot this." John stares at the cane in suprise and disbelief, but takes it.
"Ah," he mutters, turning to look down the hall at us and we grin back at him. "Er, thank you. Thank you," he says, turning back around to face Angelo. As he comes in and closes the door, Mrs Hudson comes out if her flat looking upset and tearfull.
"Sherlock, what have you done?" She asks as she hurries over. I look at her confused.
"Mrs Hudson?" Dad asks, concerned. We've had all sorts in our flat before, and I just hope they didn't hurt Mrs Hudson, because I've learnt to love her already.
"Upstairs," she says, nearly breaking into tears. I turn and run up the stairs taking two at a time, and the boys follow me. Dad pushes in front of me and opens the door to the living room. I groan in disbelief as I see Lestrade sitting casually in dads chair in front of the case and facing the door as some other officers search through our possesions.
"What are you doing?" Dad asks angrily, storming over to Lestrade.
"Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid." I snort, and he looks at me, slightly hurt, but brushes over it.
"You can't just break into my flat," dad protests.
"And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat."
"Well, what do you call this then?" Lestrade looks around at the officers, searching for his excuse befire turning back to us.
"It's a drugs bust," he replies innocently. Inside, I curse, but my face is emotionless.
"Seriously?! This guy, a junkie?! Have you met him?!" Dad walks over to John, biting his lip nervously, whilst I stay still, scowling at Lestrade.
"John ..." Dad begins quietly.
"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational." John continues to Lestrade, ignoring dad.
"John, you probably want to shut up now." Dad mutters.
"Yeah, but come on ..." John begins, then meets dads eyes. Dad holds the gaze for a moment, and then John realises how serious dad is being. "No," John says, in disbelief.
"What?"
"You?"
"Shut up!" Dad says angrily. The last thing we need is for them to find anything. "I'm not your sniffer dog." Dad growls, turning back to Lestrade.
"No, Anderson's my sniffer dog." He replys, nodding towards the kitchen.
"What, An..." The kitchen door slides open to reaveal yet more officers. I wonder how many limbs they've already found. I don't even want to think about it. Anderson turns towards us and waves sarcastically at us. He's wasn't on the drug squad, the last time I checked. "Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?" Dad yells angrily.
"Oh, I volunteered," he says venomously. I throw him a look, then turn away to stop myself from retorting.
"They all did," Lestrade says nonchantly. "They're not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they're very keen." Donovan comes into the doorway of the kitchen holding up my small glass of eyeballs.
"Are these human eyes?" She asks in disbelief.
"Put those back!" Dad snaps.
"They were in the microwave!" She says, as if we didn't know.
"It's an experiment," he hisses.
"Keep looking, guys," Lestrade yells as he stands up and turns to talk to us. "Or you could help us properly and I'll stand them down."
"This is childish," dad says, pacing angrily.
"Well, I'm dealing with a child," Lestrade snaps. "Sherlock, this is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?" I have to stop myself from sniggering at how much that sounds like a mother telling off her child for running away. Dad stops pacing and glares at Lestrade.
"Oh, what, so... so... so... you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"
"It stops being pretend if they find anything." Lestrade taunts.
"I am clean!" Dad yells.
"Is your flat?" Lestrade says. "All of it?"
"I don't even smoke," dad stresses, unbuttoning his shirt sleeve and rolling it up to show him the only patch he's left on.
"Neither do I," Lestrade replies, pulling his own sleeve up to place it next to dad. Dad rolls his eyes and turns away as they pull their sleeves back down. "So let's work together. We've found Rachel." My eyes snap up to meet his, now intrested. Dad turns back around to face him.
"Who is she?"
"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter," Lestrade replies. Why must these things always come down to the children? Dad frowns.
"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?"
"Never mind that. We found the case," Anderson says pointing to the pink case in front of dads chair.
"According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath." The most common mistake when it comes to me and my dad, and we get annoyed at peoples ignorance. Dad looks at him disparagingly.
"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson. I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." Dad turns back to Lestrade. "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her."
"She's dead," Lestrade says simply.
"Excellent!" Dad cries, startiling John. "How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be."
"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." That can't be right, there has to be someone else that she means.
"No, that's ... that's not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?" Dad asks himself, just as confused as I am.
"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?!" Anderson repeats sarcastically. "Yup - sociopath; I'm seeing it now." Dad turns to him, looking exasperated at having to explain everything to the biggest idiot on the world.
"She didn't think about her daughter," dad says. "She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." He begins to pace again.
"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." John suggests, but if she was never alive, the victim wouldn't be upset, would she?
"Yeah, but that was ages ago," dad says, stopping to face John. "Why would she still be upset?" John stares at him in disbelief and everyone in the flat is looking at us. Dad looks around at everyone, then turns back awkwardly to John. "Not good?" Dad mutters, and John glances around at everyone before replying.
"Bit not good, yeah." Dad brushes it off and steps closer to John, looking at him intently.
"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 says.
"Oh, use your imagination!" Dad says, exasperated. John flinches in pain of the memories.
"I don't have to," he says sadly. Dad realises Johns pain and pauses, blinking and shuffling his feet apoligetically before he continues.
"Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever. Sophia, what would you say?" He asks me, pacing.
"I would give a clue to who was my murderer, or leave something behind to tell them where to find them." Dad nods, approvingly.
"That's more likely. She's trying to tell us something." Dad concludes as Mrs Hudson enters the room.
"Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."
"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Dad says, waving her away dissmissivley. Dad continues to pace as Mrs Hudson looks around the room.
"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" John turns to her, seeming to be the only one paying any attention to her. Me and dad are trying to think, but we can't with this much disruption.
"It's a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson."
"But they're just for my hip," she says, anxiously. "They're herbal soothers." Dad stops pacing with his back to the door.
"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?!" Anderson asks, in disbelief.
"Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade shouts.
"Oh, for God's sake!" says Anderson.
"Your back, now, please!" Lestrade yells, and reluctantly, Anderson turns around.
"Come on, think. Quick!" Dad mutters to himself.
"What about your taxi?" Mrs Hudson asks, and I feel annoyed at the inturruption. Dad turns to face her.
"MRS HUDSON!" He shouts, furious. Mrs Hudson turns and hurries back back down the stairs. My brain works away, trying to figure out what Rachel could mean. Dad stops and looks around the room. "Oh." Dad smiles in delight. The room stares at him as he talks to himself.
"Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!" He walks across the room to the case ad turns to face the others. "She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him." Dad starts pacing again, still talking. "When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."
"But how?" Lestrade asks, oblivious to the truth. She's done what I said I would do. Dad stops, and stares at Lestrade as if he's stupid for not figuring it out himself. He's an idiot, he can't help it.
"Wha...? What do you mean, how?" Lestrade shrugs, still oblivious.
"Rachel!" Dad looks so triumphant, but everyone stares at him so blankly. "Don't you see? Rachel!" Rachel the police officer in the kitchen turns around, thinking he's looking to her for an explanation. Dad laughs in disbelief. "Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing." He stops smiling and starts speaking more seriously. "Rachel is not a name."
"Then what is it?" John asks. Dad walks over to his laptop and starts typing.
"John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address." John looks at the label and reads the address out loud.
"Er, .uk." Dad looks down at his computer and brings up the website for her email account.
"Oh, I've been too slow. She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smartphone, it's e-mail enabled." He types up the address into the user name box. "So there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address ..." He finishes typing in the first box and moves across the the password one.
" ... and all together now, the password is?" John walks over to dad, and I follow him.
"Rachel," John says, still not entirely getting at what we're doing.
"So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson asks from the kitchen, and I feel my eyes roll.
"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street," dad says, and I have to smirk. "We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."
"Unless he got rid of it," Lestrade says.
"We know he didn't," John mutters to him as dad looks impatiently at the screen, waiting for the map reference.
"Come on, come on. Quickly!" Mrs Hudson comes back up the stairs, looking a bit impatient.
"Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver ..." She fades away as dad stands up and walks over to her, towering above her small frame.
"Mrs Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?" Dad asks sarcastically, but trying to get it through to her that we didn't order any taxi. John sits down in the chair in front of the laptop and watches the clock spin around as dad turns back to Lestrade. "We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter." Dad orders Lestrade, who looks uncertain. Mrs Hudson looks around anxiously at all of the mess everywhere, and the shadow of a man comes up behind her. "We're gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won't last for ever."
"We'll just have a map reference, not a name." Lestrade says, trying to avoid actually doing something for once instead of setting up false drugs busts.
"It's a start!" Dad replies, as a map starts to come onto the computer.
"Sherlock ..." John begins, but dad continues to speak.
"It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead that we've had."
"Sherlock ..." John tries again as it zooms onto ... no ... It can't be ... Dad hurries over to look at the screen.
"What is it? Quickly, where?" The map has stopped zooming, and the position of the phone is very clear, even if it can't be right.
"It's here," John says slowly. "It's in 221 Baker Street." Dad straightens up, looking confused.
"How can it be here? How?"
"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere." Lestrade suggests.
"What, and I didn't notice it? Me? I didn't notice?" Dad says slowly, turning around the room.
"Anyway, we texted him and he called back," John says to Lestrade. The phone can't be here.
"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim ..." Lestrade yells to the officers, but my mind blocks him out as I look at the man in the doorway. He's the same taxi driver as earlier, I'm certain. I think back to the question dad asked me and John earlier about who we trust and who goes under the radar. Taxis, of course! All of the victims had one thing in common - they all needed a taxi. Sir Jeffery - he needed one when he got off at the wrong train station. James Philimore - It was pouring with rain on the night of his murder. Beth Davenport - she lost her carkeys. And finally Jennifer Wilson. The pink lady. She needed to get to her hotel, and the cabbie was getting desperate. He didn't kill the American because he was afraid that I would remember him. So why turn up now? Is he handing himself in? On the landing, the taxi driver takes a pink smartphone from his pocket and touches the screen to send off a text. A pink smartphone. In the next second, dads own phone buzzes with a text alert. Dad reaches into his pocket and reads the text, which, of course, I can't see. He turns his head towards the door in time to see the taxi driver turn around and head calmly down the stairs.
"Sherlock, you okay?" John asks, sensing dads uneasy quiet. Dad watches the man go.
"What? Yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine," he says vaugely, anticipating whether or not to go.
"So, how can the phone be here?" John asks, but dad is still looking out of the door, and not paying full attention to what John's saying.
"Dunno." John gets his own phone out of his pocket.
"I'll try it again."
"Good idea," dad says, as he heads towards the door.
"Where are you going?" John asks, looking confused at dads sudden change of behaviour and looks to me for help.
"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won't be long." John frowns as dad leaves the room.
"You sure you're all right?" John calls after him a dad hurries down the stairs.
"I'm fine," Dad calls back.
"I'll go after him." I mutter, running after him. "Sherlock, please. This man will kill you!" I mutter to him on the stairs. He stops and looks at me with pity.
"This is what you don't understand yet, Sophia. I must go, even if that means I die solving it." A tear slips from my eye, and he brushes it away. "Look, I'll be carefull, alright? You can come after me, but leave it about ten minutes and bring John, okay? I'll be okay." He kisses me on the forehead, then leaves me on the stairs, the tears rolling freely down my face as I'm unsure whether I'll see him alive again, but I do understand why he must go.