Chapter 2

Sherlock Holmes was a strange man, but a brilliant one. Alyssa had watched first-hand as he figured out that the serial suicides were actually serial killings, by a taxi driver, of all people. She knew Sherlock had been impressed by how quickly she had figured out the relevance of 'Rachel', and she had felt amused by how upset Greg had gotten over it. Alyssa had watched as Sherlock left to place himself at the mercy of the Cabbie Killer, creating a distraction with Greg and the other officers. She hadn't known quite why she had done it, but for a brief moment her eyes had met Sherlock's and she had known that was what he needed her to do. Now, Anderson and Donovan were leading the techs out of the small flat.

"You coming?" Greg's voice was soft, meant for her ears only. Alyssa turned to look at Dr Watson, who was refreshing the GPS tracker every few minutes. Alyssa knew that the phone would soon be on the move, in the same taxi as Sherlock. But of course, John didn't know that. Right then, Alyssa made her decision. "Actually, I think I'm going to stay here. You and I both know this was a waste of time, and Anderson in particular showed too much enthusiasm in ransacking this place. It's only right one of us stays to help tidy it back up." She gave Greg a stern look, and for the second time that evening, he looked sheepish. Letting his hand linger on her arm for a second longer than necessary, DI Lestrade exited the flat to follow his officers.

"Where is the phone moving to?" John Watson jumped slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were still here. I thought everyone was leaving?" Alyssa smiled and the man blushed. Rolling her eyes, she explained that she wanted to help tidy up. After all, it was the least she could do. The man stammered his thanks, before whipping his head round to look at the now-beeping laptop. "It's moving. The phone is moving!" Alyssa's heart leapt in sudden fear. Sherlock Holmes was trapped in a taxi with a killer. John was putting on his coat, obviously about to go after the phone, and unbeknownst to him, his friend. Alyssa could not let him leave without telling him of the danger.

"John. Sherlock's taxi that your landlady was talking about. The driver is the killer. Sherlock has gone with him. When that phone stops, Sherlock will be at that location. And so will the killer. Please be careful." John nodded once before sprinting out of the apartment. After a second's hesitation, Alyssa ran after him. "No, Alyssa, I appreciate the help, but I cannot let you come with me. You might get hurt." John was suddenly all business as he waited for a taxi to drive by. "Dr Watson, I am perfectly capable of handling myself, but that is not why I have come after you. You'll need backup." John looked at her in surprise for a moment, startled by the barely concealed frustration at the assumption she would somehow need protection from the killer. "I… I was going to call Lestrade from the taxi…" John started to say, just as a taxi pulled up. Alyssa held the door for him as he got in. "Trust me, John. It'll be quicker if I call him." And before John could protest further, she slammed the door shut, stepping back as the taxi sped off.

After taking a very blurry picture of the taxi's registration number, Alyssa called Lestrade, who of course answered on the first ring, telling him what was happening, and asking for them to start a trace on the taxi John was in. At least this way, Greg and the others would know where the phone stopped, and therefore where the killer lurked. She fiercely hoped that both John and Sherlock would be alright. After a few minutes standing in the cold, she went back into 221B. The men's landlady was busying herself upstairs, trying to sort out the mess that the detectives had left. Alyssa sighed. This had been so pointless. It seemed so ridiculous that Greg had resorted to such a low method of getting Sherlock to comply with his terms. Without a word, Alyssa began to help the landlady. Seeming to understand her silence, the older woman smiled in gratitude.

About 30 minutes later, Greg walked through the door. Alyssa was busy trying to put the books back on Sherlock's shelf in some discernible order. She had been doing this for 10 minutes and had eventually given up trying to figure out how the man ordered his literature, opting for sticking them on the shelves as she found spaces. Sherlock could sort it out when (and it would be when) he returned home. "Why aren't you following John and Sherlock?" Alyssa had not turned to face Greg, which she knew would make him understand that she was upset with him. "I thought you might like to come with me. To make sure they are alright." She stopped replacing books. This was the closest to an apology she would get, most likely.

"Will you be okay now?" Alyssa turned to face the landlady and smiled as kindly as she could. "Of course, dear. Thank you for your help. You bring those boys back safely, now won't you?" Alyssa nodded curtly. She would also make sure that Greg did not put any of them through this stupid, fake 'drug bust' business again. In silence, she followed Greg out to his car. Without a word, he opened the door for her, and she got in quickly. Settling himself into the seat next to her, Greg took a moment before starting the car. He faced her, and Alyssa could read the apology in his eyes. She could also read exactly how he wanted to make this up to her, and it really was not the time. Instead of saying so, Alyssa decided to ignore it.

"This was a ridiculous idea, Greg." He had started the engine, and his hand tightened on the wheel. "It got the job done, didn't it? We are off to catch the killer!" His attempt at light-heartedness did nothing to appease Alyssa. "For one thing, we really frightened that lady. That in itself is bad enough. But we invaded their privacy. Their home, Greg! We are the police, for God's sake! You cannot just bend the law to ensure Sherlock's obedience. He offers his insight on your cases, free of charge I might add, and that's how you repay him?" Temporarily stationary at a traffic light, Greg turned to face her. "Always the voice of the people, aren't you? I did it because Sherlock went off on his own, and he cannot do that. Look at this, right now. He could be dead, and it's his own fault because he ran off without telling anyone!" Alyssa's heart constricted. The thought of the killer claiming yet another victim was abhorrent to her. "Actually, Greg, he did tell someone. He told me." Greg whirled in his seat to face her, and she hurriedly gestured at the road. Slowly, he turned back to focus on his driving. "You two seem like you've been getting along quite well. Strange, really. Sherlock doesn't really like people." Rolling her eyes at his jealousy, Alyssa turned to look out the window. The radio told her that they were getting close, and that a shot had been fired. Greg picked up the pace.

Several minutes later, and they had arrived at a cluster of old buildings. Some sort of College, she thought. An ambulance was already on the scene, and several officers were sectioning off one of the buildings. Getting out the car, Alyssa saw Sherlock being brought out to the ambulance. He kept shrugging off an orange shock blanket. Sighing in relief that he was okay, Alyssa walked straight past Greg and the others, who were taking photos of Sherlock in his blanket, and into the building, pausing only to put on some booties. Pulling on some latex gloves, she followed the sound of footsteps above her, until she reached the crime scene.

Instantly, she recognised the taxi driver who had stood ominously in the shadowed corridor in Sherlock's flat. He was the victim of the shot that they had heard over the radio. Glasses askew, the man had died in a pool of his own blood. Another tech was pulling a small, pink pill from the killer's hand, and bagging it. Looking around the room, Alyssa could see two bottles, one lying on the floor and the other standing next to a fake gun on the table. Another, identical pill lay to the side, as if it had been thrown. Suddenly, the killings made sense. Two identical bottles, two identical pills. One deadly, one fine. She took the bagged pill from the tech, and made a small notation, stating this had been recovered from the killer. She then bagged the other pill, and labelled it as '? Sherlock's'.

Evidence in one hand, Alyssa made her way back outside. John Watson was stood on the other side of the police tape, watching Sherlock in his shock blanket. She smiled – the paramedic had finally gotten his way it seemed. Sherlock was deep in conversation with Greg as she approached. "He had an aneurysm, and he seemed to think that he was playing 'chess' with the victims. Outliving them as they chose the wrong bottle." Sherlock looked up as Alyssa stood beside him and watched very closely as Greg automatically took a step closer to her. She remained motionless. Greg was still berating him for going off on his own "for the second time, Sherlock! You could have been killed!". Sherlock scoffed, stating that the killer was not as intelligent as he thought he'd been. He gave the victims the bad pill, keeping the good one for himself, knowing that with a gun to their head, the victims were less likely to swap bottles, instead just taking whatever pill was in front of them. "An easy kill!" Sherlock said with satisfaction, "but he didn't think I would figure it out! That is why he was surprised that I chose the good pill. His bottle. So, Lestrade, I knew I wasn't going to die".

"I think you're wrong." Alyssa said simply. Both Sherlock and Greg turned to look at her in disbelief. "I'm never wrong." There was an edge to his voice, but Alyssa just shrugged. "I can prove it." Gesturing, Sherlock motioned for her to do so. She removed both pieces of evidence, explaining which pill had been on the floor ("Sherlock's pill") and the pill found on the victim. Quickly running to the nearest tech van, she grabbed a kit and took it back to the ambulance. She put a small amount of the powder from Sherlock's pill into a test tube, leaving enough to be tested more thoroughly back in the lab. Already knowing the poison after reading several reports from the previous victims, Alyssa knew exactly what chemical would react to show the poison. Very carefully, she measured a tiny amount of the counter-chemical and poured it into the tube. Instantly, the powder began to fizz, and turned a shocking blue. Smirking, she stood up, and looked at both men expectantly.

"How… how did you know?" Sherlock looked so confused, Alyssa almost felt sorry for him. "You said that the man had an aneurysm. He was already dying. You said he had lost everything, his wife, his children – he would have been depressed. Suicidal. He kept the bad pills for himself because he had nothing more to live for. If the victims took the good pill, he would die, and it would all be over. The sweet release of death. However, if he took the good pill, his children would get money. Either way it was a win-win for him. It really was just like chess – he abducted clever people who thought the same way you did. That he would keep the good pill for himself." Lestrade laughed at Sherlock's shocked expression. "I think you've just been told you're relatively ordinary, Sherlock!" Sherlock turned to study Alyssa, and she lifted her chin. He seemed to recognise that she wasn't just some mindless tech drone – she had some intelligence too. Very, very slowly, he nodded, as if in approval, and graced her with a smile. Still laughing, Lestrade placed a hand on Alyssa's back, and began to steer her away, back to his car.

"I can see now why you would risk your marriage for Alyssa, Lestrade. Pretty, and with brains! She's like your opposite!" Alyssa froze. Lestrade whirled to face Sherlock, who had taken his turn to do the smirking. With a grace belying his height, Sherlock hopped off the ambulance and walked over to them, John joining him. "Everything okay here?" John smiled a hello at Alyssa, who was still frozen. How could he possibly know? They were so careful… "Yes, yes, John, everything is fine. I was just marvelling at how Inspector Lestrade has kept his affair quiet for so long." John looked from Greg, to Alyssa, back to Greg. Greg dropped his hand immediately, but the damage had been done.

"I don't know what you are trying to prove, Sherlock, but I suggest you keep your mouth shut!" Greg growled. Sensing that their colleagues were beginning to look in their direction, Alyssa laid a hand on his arm, to calm him. "It's your turn to explain. But please. Quietly?" Alyssa kept her voice soft, and Sherlock cocked his head. She did not break the eye contact, silently begging him to do as she asked and keep his voice low. Nodding, he moved closer to them, as did John. "Lestrade has mentioned several times these past few months that his marriage is beginning to break down. Around this time, he started dressing in nicer clothes for work, obviously trying to impress someone. And now, tonight, he has taken every opportunity to either be close to you or touch you in some form. Add that to his blatant jealousy at my admiration of your intellect and I would say the two of you have been engaged in an affair for some time, which is likely the cause of his marriage breakdown." Alyssa gaped at the man, who grinned at her. "Don't worry. I won't say anything. Honestly, I am just glad to have another intellectual around. Things are much more fun when someone else understands." And with that, he walked off with John, grinning to himself.

"I… Alyssa. I'm sorry." Confused, she turned to face Greg, who seemed completely distraught that they had been discovered. "Greg… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Let's just… stay away from each other for a week or so. Let everyone who may have overheard tonight think that they misinterpreted it. It'll be fine. It always is." Nodding, Greg turned and walked away, getting into his car and driving off.

Alyssa made her way back to the building, to continue to gather evidence. No one seemed to notice her, which suited her fine. It meant she was left to her own thoughts, which were currently tangled. She would never admit it to Greg, but she was secretly marvelling at how easily Sherlock had guessed about their affair, and also a little bit pleased. If anything was going to force Greg to decide whether he wanted to go public or end it, it would be this. Alyssa had been tired of the secrecy for a while. Remembering Sherlock's statement of how she was pretty but with brains, Alyssa smiled to herself, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

Yes, that Sherlock Holmes was a strange man. Brilliant. But definitely strange.