The Silent Game
A Silent Break
"He wouldn't." The crying woman insisted. "He just wouldn't."
"Stranger things have happened." Rose said, hoping to read the woman's reactions. She wasn't disappointed.
"Westie wasn't a traitor!" She insisted, looking up to look Rose in the eye, watery blues meeting a cooler, darker shade. "It's a horrible thing to say!"
"I'm sorry." She replied, though not sounding very apologetic; it was just another part of the job. "But you must understand…"
"That's what they think, isn't it, his bosses?" The fiancée interrupted.
Rose nodded slightly, face still in its cool arrangement of collectiveness. "He was a young man, about to get married, he had debts."
"Everyone's got debts, and Westie wouldn't want to clear them by selling out his country." Was the reply Rose got from the emotional woman.
Rose knew how interviews with the bereaved family usually went though and was not deterred. "Can you tell me exactly what happened that night?"
The mourning woman took a steadying breath before telling her side of the story. "We were having a night in. Just…watching a DVD. He normally falls asleep, you know, but he sat though this one." She paused a little, but Rose waited patiently. "He was quiet. Out of the blue he said he had to go and see someone." She had started crying again at this point.
"And you don't know who?" Rose asked gently. The woman just shook her head. Rose put a hand on the woman's shoulder, squeezing slightly in a comforting gesture. "We'll find out what happened, and when we do, we'll let you know as soon as we can, alright?"
The woman took a few breaths, collecting herself, and nodded. "Thank you, but I think you'd better be going now."
"Alright." Rose said, standing up, following the woman out of the living room, to the front door as she was seen out.
As the door opened, a man in a hat and pushing a bike came up the path. "Oh, hi Liz. You okay, love?" He looked concerned at her upset state.
"Yeah." She answered, wiping her face a little.
"Who's this?" He asked, noticing Rose's presence.
"Rose Spencer, 'ello." Rose introduced herself, giving a small wave as she did so.
"This is my brother, Joe." The fiancée told her. Her words reminded Rose to check up on her own brother soon. "Rose's trying to find out what happened to Westie, Joe."
Joe looked her up and down, though not in an appreciative manner. "You with the police?"
Rose held her ground at the slightly affronted tone, raising her chin on instinct, though catching the motion and stopping after no more than a couple of millimetres. "In a manner of speaking, yeah."
"Well, tell 'em to get off their arses, will you? It's bloody ridiculous." He said, not breaking eye contact. Hiding something, Rose thought suspiciously.
"I'll do my best." Rose replied coolly. Joe just frowned ever so slightly, nodded and went inside, griping his sister's shoulder as he went past. Rose looked to the woman. "Well, thanks again for you help. And again, I'm very sorry for your loss." Rose turned to head down the path, but was called back by the woman.
"He didn't steal those things, Miss Spencer. I knew Westie, he was a good man. He was my good man." She went inside, crying once more, leaving Rose a little lost standing out on the pavement. After a moment though, she pursed her lips and pulled out a cigarette, lighting up as she made her way to the main road. Something's not right here, she thought, looking up to the darkening sky, blowing smoke out into the evening that was steadily getting colder and darker, the street lights already sparking into life.
Getting out of the cab at 221B, she paid the cabbie and let herself into the flat. "Joe?" She called, heading to the living room, only to find it empty. She frowned a little, worry spiking.
There was a note on the kitchen table though, sitting on top of all the science equipment carefully. Only Joe, she thought as she went to pick it up, reading his familiar, scruffy hand writing.
Little Sis!
Gone to stay at Zach's for a
couple of days, will only get
under your feet here. Plus
I can keep an eye on him
better here.
Stay safe,
Joe
She sighed as she read the words, knowing she could do nothing about them, yet still smiling at the little nickname Joe had used. However, a loud thump from upstairs brought her down to earth again.
She froze, not knowing who was home and not wanting to call out again, remembering the time she caught Mycroft's little assistant bugging their flat.
Creeping to the door though, she let out a small sigh of relief as she saw John moving quickly down the stairs, suitcase banging loudly behind him.
"John?" Rose questioned, wondering what he was doing.
He looked up sharply, apparently not having heard her come in. "Oh, hey Rose…um…"
Her eyes flickered to the case purposefully before looking up to meet his once again. "Going somewhere nice?"
He sighed tiredly, the tension leaving his face a little. Rose always had this knack for making things a little bit better. She really is a good friend, he thought. "Just up to Harry's for a few days." They both knew he didn't need to say anymore. He had had enough of Sherlock for a bit, needed a break and needed to think things through; John simply didn't understand how someone who helped so many could care so little.
Rose looked him in the eye for a second, her mind flashing briefly with the sting of the memories of each of her brothers leaving her behind; she really did hate it when people left. She nodded though, knowing it was what was right and that he would come back at some point anyway. "Alright. Well, tell her I said hello."
John frowned slightly, looking at his friend. He had seen the flash of hurt in her eyes, the way she looked to the floor now; she's upset. He didn't quite know why, but he knew he had to cheer her up a bit before he left. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing a little, making her look up, defensive dark blue eyes hiding something from the eyes that met them. "I'll see you soon, yeah?"
Rose gave John a small half smile. "See you soon, John."
John just smiled back at her sadly, wishing he knew what was going through her mind. He was coming back after all, he just needed a break. He heard her go to the living room as he went out the front door, closing it softly behind him.
Hearing the door close, Rose thought once more about her brothers and when they left. But John's coming back, he said so himself. Once again, a small noise broke her from her troubled thoughts.
Looking at her mobile, she saw a message from Sherlock.
Meet me at 221B
SH
She smiled slightly, liking that fact that she was a step ahead of the genius, if only by accident. She then remembered Sherlock's words about finding the Golem.
An idea came to her then and she contemplated whether it was actually a good one before deciding it was probably needed, even if she didn't like the thought at all.. So, she got up and headed over to the draws of the desk, pulling one open and taking out the gun John had put in there, taking a handful of bullets, loading the gun quickly and easily.
She smiled as she tucked the hard metal into the waist band at the back of her trousers, pulling her coat over it, all the while remembering the bored evening about a week after she had started working with Sherlock.
The man himself had gone out for the evening - doing only god knows what - and John had gone out on a date, leaving the young woman alone in the silent flat. She had been incredibly bored, the silence starting to grate on her nerves and had taken the initiative to learn the ins and outs of their little weapon, taking it apart carefully, putting it back together again and firing several shots into the wall; anyone would assume it was the bored genius. The evening had been well spent; she now knew practically every inch of the gun and if either of her flatmates knew anything about her activities, they didn't mention it.
As she closed the front door, stepping back out into the cold - and now dark - outside air, a cab pulled up, Sherlock getting out of it. She also noted the familiar looking woman standing by the fence, a can jingling with some coins in her hand. "Any spare change? Any change? Spare any change?"
Seeing Sherlock approach, Rose put the familiar looking woman out of her mind for the moment. Turning to him, she said, "Alex Woodbridge didn't know anything special about art."
"And…?" He asked, wanting more.
"And…" She started, casting her mind about for relevant facts. He grew impatient though.
"Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?" He asked, getting irritated. He walked off down the street, heading for the woman with the can.
Rose followed him, trying to redeem herself. "No, no, give me a chance! He was an amateur astronomer."
He just pointed behind her. "Hold that cab."
She did as she was told, but watched out of the corner of her eye as he went to speak with the begging woman.
"Spare change, sir?" She asked him.
"Don't mind if I do." He replied quietly, though Rose still heard him. She frowned at his words though, not understanding.
The woman passed him a note and he opened it, reading the words before pocketing the paper.
"Fortunately, I haven't been idle. Come on!" He said, walking back to Rose, holding the door open for her to get in the cab.
He noted the slight misshape in the back of the coat but didn't say anything about the gun he knew was concealed there, knowing she had taught herself how to use it a few weeks ago; he knew how many shots he had fired into the wall and coming home to find several more, it was hardly a big leap to guess what had happened.