The Silent Game
A Deathly Silence
Rose checked her phone for the time as she got out of the cab, holding the door for John and seeing Sherlock's cab pull up behind their own. One hour left, she thought worriedly; it was still cutting it too close for her liking. The Consulting Detective didn't wait for them and they didn't complain; they were still against the clock here, even if they had solved the case.
"Raoul de Santos is your killer." Sherlock announced as they walked into the office space, Lestrade leaning over one of the desks. "Kenny Prince's house boy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince, it was botulinum toxin." He leaned in to speak to Lestrade a little closer. "We've been here before; Carl Powers. Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself."
They walked into Lestrade's office, Lestrade questioning one the way. "So, how'd he do it?"
"Botox injection." Sherlock replied.
But Lestrade was confused. "Botox?"
"Botox is a diluted form of botulinum." Sherlock explained.
Rose felt she should chip in then. "Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections."
"My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases. He's been bulk ordering Botox for months." Sherlock explained. "Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose."
"You sure about this?" Lestrade asked, looking from Sherlock to Rose. The DI had found that checking with Rose had helped a little over the time she had started to work with the difficult man.
She just nodded as Sherlock replied, "I'm sure."
Lestrade nodded. "Alright, my office."
As Sherlock passed an unusually quiet John however, Rose saw the look in the doctor's eyes. Uh Oh…
"Hey, Sherlock, how long?" He asked, trying to be casual about it.
The man in question seemed confused though. "What?"
"How long have you known?" John explained a little further. Rose could see his patience was getting thin now.
"Well, this one was quite simple actually. And like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake." Sherlock didn't seem to understand what John was saying.
"Sherlock…" Rose warned quietly, but as usual, neither man paid her warnings any attention.
John stopped him as he went to walk off. "No, but, Sherlock, the hostage, the old woman, she's been there all this time!" John was starting to raise his voice and Rose hoped they weren't going to have another argument.
Sherlock gave as good as he got, as always, tone of voice matching John's with a dash of cold iciness about it that was just him. "I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly, that gave me time to get on with other things." Rose saw he was getting annoyed now. She just watched, making sure that neither man went too far in their argument. "Don't you see? We're one up on him!" With that last remark, Sherlock went in the office, leaving his two flatmates behind; one shocked and angry, the other wary of what to do next.
John just looked to Rose, and she looked back, not backing down on the matter. She knew Sherlock was right, even if she didn't particularly like it. John just sighed slightly and went to follow Sherlock into the glass room, Rose just behind him.
Sherlock entered his post - Raoul de Santos, the house boy, Botox - the pink phone ringing out not a moment later.
"Hello."
"Help me!" Came the predictable reply from the hostage.
Sherlock talked to her, trying to get her location. "Tell us where you are. Address?"
John came in the room that moment, going to stand next to his infuriating friend, Rose leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, one leg bent, head lolling to the side, brown hair resting against the frame.
"He was so…" She started, but Sherlock knew what would most likely happen should she finish that sentence. "His voice…"
"No, no, no, no!" He said, back straightening slightly from his bored posture to one of alertness. Rose saw the change and frowned slightly; something wasn't right. "Tell me nothing about him, nothing."
"He sounded so…soft." The four words were the last that Sherlock heard before the line cut off, a monotonous dial tone ringing out. It reminded Sherlock of a flat heart monitor.
Rose watched as Sherlock's face froze, his hand jerked the phone away form his ear slightly, stare blank and unblinking. "Hello?" He sounded slightly shocked, possibly even the smallest trace of panic in his tone. But the man knew he wouldn't get an answer.
"Sherlock?" Rose asked, hoping she was wrong in her ideas as to what had happened.
"What's happened?" John asked, looking to Sherlock for a moment, only seeing the man place the phone on the table again after hanging up on their end. John looked to Rose for an explanation, but the sight that met him made him frown.
She had dropped her head, but the good doctor could still see the single tear that had fallen down her cheek.
And as the four of them stood in the office, a heavy silence pressing in on them, Rose once again felt reality catch up to her a little bit.
She knew what had happened to the hostage.