Chapter 29
The next morning, John was in a good mood. Like they had agreed, he and Ian met early in the hotel's breakfast room, and it wasn't long before a text arrived from Sherlock, indicating an address where Thomas Elton was probably staying at the moment. They took a cab and arrived at a tall, narrow white house. Behind one of the two lower windows, a sign said "ROOMS FOR RENT" in screaming red letters. John rang the bell. The sound of clicking heels on stone tiles approached and the door was opened by a woman.
"Hello, boys." She had a hoarse voice and stretched her words so much it was almost ridiculous. Her clothes had probably fit her twenty years ago, but apparently the only requirement she had in mind for her attire was that the brand should be clearly visible. "Looking for a room?" She only had eyes for Ian.
John had to concentrate to keep his eyebrows in place. "Uhm, no. John Watson and Ian Gryffydd. We would like to ask if you could help us with an investigation."
"Shame," she said slowly, her eyes still pinned on Ian, before she seemed to wake up from a trance and looked at John. "I am Miss Leia. If you two are on an investigation, then why aren't you wearing uniforms?" She almost pouted.
Ian blushed spectacularly. "Um... I ... We're looking for Oliv... I mean Mike Summers."
"Ah, Mikey! He only lives here since a few days. Such a sweetheart. He's out now, but I'm sure he won't be long. Why don't you two come in?" she said, her eyes once again on Ian as if he were a good-looking pastry.
John suppressed a sigh. He could only hope it wouldn't be long before Thomas came back, if his absence meant that they had to keep this obtrusive woman company.
"Look, Mikey bought me these flowers," she said as she waddled in front of them through the corridor. A bouquet in clashing colours was standing on a low table. "He really knows how to get to a woman's heart. But I'm sure you do, too, pretty." She suddenly stopped and turned around so Ian almost bumped into her.
Ian yelped and jumped back. Then he tried to disguise it with an unconvincing cough.
John somehow managed to keep his face straight without pulling a muscle.
"So nervous... You should relax a little, pretty," Miss Leia said, walking a full circle around Ian before she opened a door and led them to her own living room. "Sit down. Do you want coffee, or something stronger?"
"I'm fine, thanks," John said quickly.
"And you probably don't even dare to ask for anything," Leia amusedly said to Ian, meanwhile pouring herself a double sherry. "So, what do you need from Mikey?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I had a lot of fun with him last night. Oh no, nothing like that," she added quickly, even though no-one would even have had the chance to suggest anything, "but we had a little drinking game. He easily drank me under the table, and believe me, a lot is needed for that. But what do you want? He's a student, and quite the party animal..."
"But Oli... I mean, Mike doesn't drink..." Ian looked confused and glanced nervously at John.
"Of course he does! You clearly don't know him so well if you think that." Miss Leia looked at Ian as if he was a child that had mispronounced something in a funny way.
Ian blushed again and leaned a little towards John. "Are you sure this is the right guy? It doesn't sound like him at all," he said in a hushed voice.
John shrugged. "Sherlock seemed quite certain about it... It's possible that he changes his character to connect with the people he wants steal from," he suggested in a whisper.
"What are you boys whispering now? Talking about me?" Leia asked hopefully. Then something outside the window caught her eye. "Ah, you're lucky! Mikey's returning from the shop! I hope he brought my chocolates."
Ian turned to the door, waiting apprehensively. It opened and a young man, tanned, with bleached hair and a shirt that was so tight there were probably laws against it, came in, carrying a plastic shopping bag. "Oh Miss Leia, I c..." he began, then stopped and stared at Ian.
"O... Oliver?" Ian stammered.
The other man turned on his heel and sprinted for the front door.
John immediately jumped up and ran after him. There was no time to wait for Ian to get over his shock.
"What's all this? I demand an explanation!" Miss Leia screamed.
Ian hastily got to his feet, made an unintelligible excuse to Miss Leia and hurried after John.
Mike was out the door and sprinted down the street. His legs were longer than John's, and the doctor had to give all he had to come even with him. He gave a firm push against his back so the man stumbled and fell on the pavement, but he pulled John over himself and rolled over. They fought for some time before John had him down, the other man's face pressed against the dirty stones.
Ian finally caught up with them, but clearly had no idea what to do. He just stood there, looking rather helpless.
"Oliver?"
"Get off me," the man hissed.
"Thomas Elton, hmm? The police will be glad to see you," John said. "Who did you work for, stealing the Abscondita in Aperto?"
"How the fuck should I know," Elton growled, trying to struggle free. "They never tell me any names, do they? I just got a title, a date and a place of delivery."
"And where did you deliver it?" John asked, meanwhile sending a desperate look at Ian and nodding at the right pocket of his trousers, where he kept his phone.
Ian frowned at him, clearly not getting what he wanted him to do.
Elton groaned. "Let me go and I'll tell you."
"Ha-ha," John said sarcastically. "The police -" he looked up at Ian - "will be here any minute. You're not going anywhere, so you can as well tell me right now."
"Screw you," Elton hissed.
"You already called the police?" Ian asked. "When did you do that?"
John rolled his eyes and sighed. Sometimes, just sometimes, he knew exactly how Sherlock must feel around all the idiots in the world. "You are going to do that, Ian," he said, putting more pressure on his knee that was pressed in Thomas' back.
"Oh..." Ian fumbled for his phone. After he had dialled, he looked at John. "What do I say?"
"Oh god," John mumbled, pushing the criminal's face harder into the pavement when he felt him sniggering under his hands. "That we have Thomas Elton, a thief that has many crimes behind his name, and that I would appreciate it if they came to pick him up before I end up with a massive muscle burn."
"Oh, of course," Ian said. Then the phone was answered. "Um, yeah, hi. My name is Ian Gryffydd. We have a criminal here." He turned away to look for house numbers or street signs.
…
"Hello, Sherlock? We've got Thomas Elton. He's in custody now. He wouldn't talk to me, but the police managed to make a deal with him, and he told them that he delivered the book in Blackpool, in an antiques shop. Where the hell are you? I hate talking to voicemail. Anyway, Ian and I are going to pick up our stuff from the hotel now, and then we're off to Blackpool. Call me as soon as you've heard this." John put away his phone, stretching his left arm
It was nearly thirty minutes later, when Sherlock finally called. "Blackpool? Are you serious?" he said in way of greeting.
"Yeah, hi Sherlock, we're in the car now. Where were you?" John answered.
"At the shop," Sherlock huffed. "Don't ask..."
John suppressed a chuckle. "I won't ask, I'm only glad that that means you have considered the possibility of eating. So, what are your thoughts on Blackpool?"
"I'm not sure. In a way it makes sense, since that was where the convention was held as well, and there obviously is a connection. But it also seems almost too convenient. Text me the name and address of the shop and I'll see what I can come up with."
"Alright. Anything else you have found out?" John asked.
"Yes. It turns out there was one other known copy of the Abscondita. It was last seen in Brazil five years ago, but disappeared. The owner could not prove its existence, so the alleged theft was never investigated."
"Sherlock, you are not going to Brazil," John said immediately.
Sherlock laughed. "Of course not. That was five years ago."
"Do you think it could have been the same thief?"
"It cannot be ruled out."
John nodded, even though Sherlock couldn't see him. "Anything special we should look for in the antiques shop?"
"I doubt the book will be on display. They did not steal it to sell it at the shop. What I need is information on the people working there or anyone connected to the shop in some way."
"Alright. I'll do what I can," John said.
"Thank you. And hurry, so you can come home. I miss you even more after last night."
"Me too, but I can hardly ask the driver to double the speed limits," John smiled. "See you soon."
Ian glanced at him. "Anything new?" he asked with a frown.
"There is another copy of the book, possibly in the possession of the thief," John answered.
"Oh..." Ian thought for a moment. "So, why has it become so urgent?"
"Urgent - oh, that. That was just, uhm, a little joke between Sherlock and me. Don't worry about it."
Ian did not seem totally convinced, but didn't comment.
