"Can you pass me the milk?" John almost hopelessly asked.
Sherlock pushed it towards him on the table without even lifting his glance from the newspapers. It was an ordinary morning at 221 B.
"Lestrade called about the murder cases; he said you should phone him if you find anything out. He thinks he'll find out where the girls worked any time now."
Sherlock could barely hold back his smile. Oh, this Scotland Yard.
They sat there, enjoying the newspapers when they were interrupted by the ringing on Sherlock's phone. He answered lazily after John gave him an are-you-really-not-picking-up look.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Something happened last night when you left. I...I think I'm in danger." The female voice sounded very frightened.
Sherlock straightened up in his chair and suddenly looked very concentrated.
"Rebecca? What happened? In what sort of danger?"
Sherlock rarely received phone calls from women other then perhaps Molly, so this caught John's attention. Noticing that, Sherlock stood up and walked out of the room.
"I...I can't talk right now. Could we meet around five? That's when I could slip out unnoticed... Maybe in that café down town, the "Singing teapot", you know?"
"Fine. But I Insist that you specify what..." but she already hung up.
Sherlock waited at the café for an hour but the girl never appeared. He was rather irritated by the taught that she could just be messing with him, but then again, she seemed very scared, he remembered.
After deciding that she would have shown up by now if she ever had the intention to, he took a cab back to the flat. When he returned home, he found DI Lestrade sitting in his living room with John.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he sarcastically asked while taking his coat off.
"I found where the dead girls worked; it is some kind of private mansion, probably an exclusive brothel."
"Thank you for that enlightenment inspector, you are so luminous."
"Yes, well, unfortunately, we found another girl dead there. We were late an hour, maybe even less. Same as the others, pretty, mid twenties..."
"With long, curly hair?"
"Yes. How would you for heaven's sake know that? Don't tell me you've added precognition to your repertoire?"
Sherlock took a long breathe. How could he be so stupid, how didn't he foresee this? He turned around to exit the flat and the other two men followed him with confused expressions on their faces.
She was found in her room, lying lifeless on her bed. She was killed the same way as the others. Just next in line, Lestrade taught.
Sherlock taught differently. The other victims suspected nothing; this one was killed because she found something out. He should have prevented this; he should have come here when she didn't appear at their meeting place.
While Lestrade and John were examining the body, something else caught Sherlock's attention. Under a pile of clothes on the sofa, a corner of a lap top could be seen. Perhaps she kept a diary of some sort. In a few energetic steps he crossed the room, took out the lap top and turned it on.
The quick view of the lap top's content showed no diary or notes, but Sherlock's eyes filled with excitement when a notification "one new e-mail" appeared in the bottom right corner.
He never respected people's privacy and this was not the time he would even consider starting that, so he opened the message without any further delay.
From: .nl
Subject: Re: I'm panicking here
Calm down. As long as you stay at home they won't get to you. I can't come over, we've discussed this. Make sure you delete this e-mail like the other ones and don't contact me again if it isn't absolutely necessary. M
M wasn't among his favorite letters but Sherlock hoped that this was another M, any other M. But this was a clue, he taught. He knew an MI-6 man who owed him a favor; it was time he returned it by locating the sender of this e-mail.
The results of the search lead to a gentlemen's club in Amsterdam. Was this case curious enough for Sherlock to jump on a plane and fly over there to check it out?
"What's the deal here? You are acting really strange, and by this I don't mean your normal strange, this is another type of strange." John interrupted his chain of taught as he took the place in the chair opposite to him.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Oh sure you do. You know, I'm not that stupid. Since the murder of that girl, you're behaving strange. You're deep thinking, which is normal, but you seem sad about it. Or something like that, shaken. Why?"
"Why would I be shaken by a death on a case? You inform the whole world that it happens a lot in your blog, you should be aware of it yourself."
John wouldn't give up that easily.
"Before Lestrade came to inform us of her death, you knew who she was. How?"
"Since Lestrade was progressing as fast as a turtle, I went to that house and that's where I met her. She wasn't very cooperative so I told her to contact me if she found anything out, which she did. I went to meet her on the place she specified but she never showed up. When I came home, Lestrade was here to inform us she was dead. The rest you already know."
John felt as if he was on dangerous grounds. Was Sherlock feeling guilty that he didn't save her? Sorry for her? He was feeling something, obviously. John knew Sherlock too well not to miss the small and rare signs of feelings in his behavior.
He started uncomfortably:
"Well, it's not your fault. I mean, if anyone could have prevented it, it would be you, but since you didn't..."
"Then it couldn't have been done, right? Wrong John."
John decided it was enough of feelings analysis for the time being so he went to make tea to break the tension. Sherlock staid in his place, motionless. He hated that, but John was right. He had a professional guilt for not saving the girl, but he couldn't get the picture of her just laying there, motionless, but with Irene's face, out of his mind. He successfully suppressed his worries for her, because by suppressing them, he was also doing a great job on ignoring the fact that she existed somewhere out there.
The truth was, he had no idea where she was. A few days after they split and he returned to London, he received a text from her.
Thank you for saving my life, you really are my hero. I am eternally grateful to you, but this is the last time you'll be hearing from me. Our last meeting made it clear for me that it is less painful if we stay away from each other. Don't forget me. IA
It was the longest text he ever got from her, and that's why he believed it was the last. This time she put all her efforts in not being found. There were a few reasons why she will always be The Women to Sherlock Holmes and two of them were her intelligence and wit. She used them well in her wish not to be found.
But ever since Sherlock ran into Rebecca, he couldn't get Irene out of his mind. This random girl that looked like her so much unlocked all the hidden emotions and now he found himself unable to concentrate. If he solves this case it might stop, he taught.
He packed his suitcase with clothes for a few days, his lap top and, for just in case, his British army browning 9A1. You never know with these people on the other side of the canal. John couldn't accompany him on this trip since Mrs. Hudson was down with the flue, so someone needed to stay and look after her.
It was a sunny morning when he landed on Schiphol airport. He visited this city once when he was in college and enjoyed it very much. One wouldn't expect that Sherlock Holmes enjoys common things as boat rides through the canals, but as he was alone here and he had the whole day before visiting his target spot, he allowed himself this guilty pleasure.
After checking in a hotel and double checking all the details of his plan, he dressed up for the club. He also called John using some stupid excuse that he misplaced some thumbs in the apartment to check on Mrs. Hudson.
The club building was a classy old building, typical for this part of Amsterdam. On the door stood a man in his mid thirties with the appearance of an ex military man, but so different from John; this man killed for living as Sherlock deduced from his left hand. But now he had a welcoming, fake smile and a chilling cold look; it activated Sherlock's inner alarm.
The man addressed to him in fluent English, recognizing him as a foreigner:
"Welcome sir! May I know your respected name? I'm sure it is on the guest list, but you know, these unfortunate formalities."
"Yes, of course. I am Sir Edmund Talbot. My secretary called to make the arrangements because you see, I am new in town." To anyone who knew Sherlock, the broad smile on his face was unnatural and a bit scary.
He checked the list and gave Sherlock another fake welcoming smile.
"You're there sir" said the big man. "Please, come in and have a good time."
"Oh I expect nothing less."
The club was furnished with big leather sofas; the space was divided by red, velvet curtains. The weak light was provided by electric imitations of candles on many chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. It was bright enough to see where you are going but not enough to be seen from a greater distance. It was a place which provided the necessary privacy for its members, for whatever they had on their minds.
Sherlock looked around. Since he carefully planned his fieldtrip, he made sure he memorized the map of the building from the original construction plans. He ordered a scotch and a cigar to blend in and then sneaked up the stairs unnoticed among other well dressed men looking for entertainment. From his source he found out the manager's office was now in a big room upstairs.
The door wasn't locked which surprised Sherlock. The manager or someone else might be there he thought while he wrapped his fingers around the gun.
Much to his surprise, the room was empty. It was decorated in the same style like the other parts of the house he already saw; it was a typical study for a rich man that liked his comfort. He came in and closed the door behind him. While he was observing the flames dancing in the fireplace, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Mr. Holmes, you finally changed your mind about dinner?"
So, what did you think? :) Do you think Sherlock is in character enough? I would appreciate reviews to see am I progressing well :)
Thank you for reading! :)