The Silent Game
A Wrongful Silence
Fifteen minuets after she had called Sherlock - filled with awkward silences and empty words - she heard a knock at the door.
"That'll be him." She said, smiling slightly as she set down he almost empty glass of lemonade.
"What?" The man said, having gone into his own thoughts for the past minuets or so.
John walked in then, speaking as he went. "Ah, Mr Prince, isn't it?"
"Yes," Replied the man. Rose had turned to greet her friend, but she didn't miss the tone of voice that the other man had spoken with.
John smiled as he shook the brother's hand, ignoring the look Rose was giving him; the smile was far too sweet, the eyes clearly saying, about bloody time! "Very good to meet you."
"Yes, thank you." Replied Mr Prince.
"I'm so sorry…to hear about…" John started, the awkwardness showing through a little, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
"Yes, yes, very kind." The man said, gripping John's hand firmly still. He saw how they acted together and how she spoke on the phone. Still don't know for sure though… he thought, not quite convinced. "You must be Sherlock Holmes, then."
John quickly changed his tune, trying to set the man straight; he still remembered the last time someone got him and Sherlock mixed up. "No, no, no. I'm John, John Watson." He turned to Rose. "Sherlock's a little busy at the moment, sent me instead."
"That's fine." She said, a ghost of a smirk on her lips. "I half expected as much." Fully expected as much, she corrected in her thoughts. "Shall we…?"
John moved over, taking out the camera equipment as he went, handing the camera over to her, as well as a flash; he had no idea how to use the things. "So, he was right, then?" John asked quietly.
"Yep." She replied, briefly looking over the standard camera and flash, thanking some unknown force that made her choose to take photography in school. "The bacteria got into her system another way, just need to check something out."
"Oh yeah?" John asked, wanting to know the plan. He didn't get to hear it though.
"Right, are we all set?" Asked Mr Price, somewhat eager for the camera. Rose just smirked at John and went to work.
She snapped a few shots, the man warning her to not get too close - the irony, she thought - as he was "raw from crying." A few seconds later the cat came back for another round of attention seeking, walking up to John, giving out a loud meow in response to the new person.
"Oh, who's this?" John asked, picking up the cat, once again ignoring the now sceptical look Rose was giving him.
"Sekhmet." The man replied, Rose explaining before he could.
"After the Egyptian goddess?" She enquired.
"Yes." The man replied. It was John's turn to wear the sceptical look then.
"Ah... Connie's, I presume?" Rose carried on, remembering her long ago discarded interest for everything Egyptian.
"Yes, a little present from yours truly." He answered, stroking the cat on the head fondly.
"Umm, Rose? Light reading?" John asked, a twinkle in his eye.
She smiled at her doctor friend. May as well humour him, she thought as she temporarily blinded Mr Price, giving John time to check the paws of the annoying feline. She flashed it several more times, taking a few more shots, starting to get bored.
The cat meowed loudly then, unnerved by the flashing lights. Mr Price took the cat off John and Rose gave the doctor a raised eyebrow, wanting to know if he was finished yet. He nodded slightly.
"Well, I think we've got what we came for. Thank you, Mr Prince." Rose said, giving the man a bright smile and turning on her heel, picking up her back as John quickly ushered her out of the door.
"But you've not taken anything!" The man behind them shouted. They just carried on out the door.
As John closed the door behind him, Rose threw her head back, laughter falling from her lips.
"Yes!" John said in triumph as he followed the young woman out onto the street. "Ooh, yes! Good find Rose. He wouldn't have got that!"
She noted John was quite pleased with his little miscalculation so far. "You think it was the cat."
"What?" John asked, seeing her take her phone out. She somehow reminded him of Sherlock in that moment.
"It wasn't the cat, John." She said, typing a message to her boss.
Figured it out yet?
What's happening?
RS
"Yes." John said confident in his deductions. "Yeah, it is." He saw the look Rose gave him as she pocketed her phone again. "It must be. It's how the tetanus into her system. It's paws stink of disinfectant." She just chuckled at him, but he was sure of his conclusions. "No, he coated it onto the claws of her cat. It's a new pet, bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't…"
She cut him off then, deciding to put him out of his misery, so to speak. "I'm sure Sherlock had thought of it, but even so. It's too random and way to clever for the brother. The brother is an idiot."
The mention of a suspect had John chuckling slightly in pride that he had solved the case. "He murdered his sister for her money."
Her phone went off in reply just then. She smirked as she read it silently, answering John with a slightly vacant, "Did he?"
Of course. Meet at the Yard.
SH
John frowned slightly, suddenly a little unsure. "Didn't he?"
She just smirked, throwing her hand in the air, hailing a cab. She held the door open for a confused John, climbing in after him. "Scotland Yard, please." She told the driver.
John just sighed in irritation, looking out of his window. He suddenly turned to her, seeing she was still smiling slightly, waiting for his argument. "But…the disinfectant on the cats paws!"
"Raoul keeps a clean house. A very clean house actually; it's a little scary really…" She trailed off absently, before snapping her head over to John. "You came in the kitchen, saw the state of the floor - scrubbed within an inch of it's life." She said dramatically, face serious but eyes laughing.
"But...the cat…the disinfectant!" John tried.
Rose cut him off though. "The cat doesn't come into it. And John, take no offence from this, but you smell of disinfectant." She gave him a sympathetic smile as he frowned slightly, looking down to his clothes.
John noted with a hint of hesitance that the young woman was right and that both her and Sherlock probably had a better idea of what really happened.
He just wanted to be right. Just once.