Chapter Five; Blood and Trinkets
Sherlock and Maria clambered into a cab and began their journey to The National Art Gallery. Sherlock seemed to go off into his own world, so Maria just took to staring out the window for the short trip. The cab hit the curb, the cabbie announcing their arrival at their destination. With a small smile, Maria found some money within her own purse to pay the man before ushering Sherlock from the cab and onto the sidewalk in front of the art gallery.
She looked up at it with slight awe, having only ever passed this building in her younger years, never actually having been inside. With a quick smirk to herself she set off forwards gently pushing open the door. The lobby was empty, a desk over in the far corner, the door to the gallery beyond beside the chair that looked like it had been abandoned in a hurry not long ago. What lay beyond, she didn't know, but she was soon going to find out.
Sherlock headed for the door and starting down the winding corridors; towards the soft voices they could hear far off. Maria followed after him like a faithful puppy, keeping close instep behind him. At coming upon the crime scene, Maria's first instinct was to slink away; quietly and un-heard.
The man lay, spread eagled on the ground, his throat sliced clean open. The blood around him was starting to dry and crack but even from that distance Maria could tell that it had dripped down both sides of his neck and onto the floor. She repressed a shudder quickly.
The expression the man wore was one of shock, like as if he hadn't seen nor heard his attacker before it was too late to save himself. His torch lay inches from his outstretched fingers, having fallen from his hand. But there was one other strange mystery to the scene. From what Maria could tell, nothing had been taken from the corridor. However there were officers buzzing around the scene like flies.
Sherlock was quick to take in the details of the scene, Maria following after him, tearing her eyes away from the dead man. Lestrade walked over to them.
"What do you make of this?" He asked the taller man. Sherlock turned around to glance at the body before he stooped down, placing a hand here, searching though a pocket there, before standing and moving over to the painting on the wall. Maria however had returned her gaze to the man on the ground. She was no Holmes but she was already taking in some details of her own.
"Maria." Sherlock's voice broke through her thoughts. "Do you think you could look over the body?" He asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. That was when a voice broke out from the rabble.
"I believe that's my job." A tall man said stepping forth. Sherlock sighed.
"Anderson, you're lowering the IQ of the entire street. Lestrade, I won't work with Anderson, however Maria here is a trained army doctor," He said before Anderson started to protest.
"Anderson, shut it, your ego can take another blow if it solves this case quicker!" Lestrade quipped and Anderson fell silent. Sherlock waved for Maria to step forwards as he himself stepped back as to give her more room to work. Maria knelt down beside the body and as if she had a checklist she began.
"Man in his late thirties, married, regular drinker…" She began before moving in closer to the body. "A small knife was used, the wounds long but only just deep enough to reach the jugular." She pulled looked into the man's staring eyes. "He had no idea this was coming, he was taken by surprise. Why though?" Maria questioned. "Time of death, roughly...4am, 5 am?" The Yard, who were standing around watching her, looked stunned. With just a few moments she had deduced all that about the man. Sherlock however felt proud. Maria was as smart as she was beautiful.
"Perfect Maria, also I believe this painting has something do with it," Sherlock said and Maria limped over to him and looked at it with him.
"It's the crime-"
"- scene in perfect detail," Sherlock finished for her and she looked at him. They were on the same wavelength, the rest of the yard however had very little clueless as to what was going on.
"Lestrade!" Sherlock said turning to the DI who looked up at him. "This painting, I'll need to examine it."
"In other words he wants to take it," Maria said and Lestrade frowned.
"I can't let you take evidence."
"Then let us take a paint sample, if we can find out where the paint used was bought at least that's a start to a lead," Maria said and Lestrade sighed. He called Anderson over to get them a slide on which they could take a sample of paint. Sherlock carved a bit off and proceeded to pocket it.
"I need to go think over this," Sherlock said as he started away from the scene. Maria went to follow him but Lestrade stopped her, he saw an opportunity to speak to the mysterious woman.
"I've worked with Sherlock for a while now and I've never heard him praise someone like that. Just who are you?" He asked curiously. Maria smiled softly.
"I'm no-one really. I grew up with him and he taught me a thing or two about deducing things. For a time, I was all he had. I'm glad you seem to trust him, a lot of people used to just use him. However, you seem like a good person." Maria said and Lestrade blundered through a thank-you. She smiled again then went to leave but he stopped her again.
"It's rare to talk to a true friend of Holmes. Sherlock is a great man, and someday, if we are very, very lucky, he'll be a good one." He said before turning and walking away, leaving her standing there for a moment before Sherlock came back around the corner to see what was taking her so long. Seeing her standing there, lost in her own thoughts, he placed a hand on the small of her back and began to lead her from the scene.
"Shall we go get your stuff from your apartment?" He suggested and Maria nodded.
"It'll take a few trips though, I don't think the cabby's will be very pleased about becoming a moving van," Maria said with a soft chuckle and Sherlock joined her.
"We'll ask Mrs Hudson to drive her car over instead," He suggested and she agreed. It was the best course of action. With a few clicks on his phone, Sherlock sent the address to Mrs Hudson to meet them. They stepped outside into the crisp air and Sherlock went to hail a cab but Maria stopped him.
"Let's walk," She said. "My apartment isn't very far and riding around in cabs all the time isn't really my thing."
Sherlock looked down at her then smiled slightly. "Alright then," He said, throwing a casual arm around her shoulders before they started off walking.
There was a barrier around her, that Holmes had put there himself, to protect her from those who would harm her. He would protect her; he would keep her safe, no matter what he had to do. He looked down at her.
'Forever the faithful watch dog…' He thought to himself before his mind went back to all they had discovered at the crime scene. It took him a few moments before he realised Maria was talking.
"—I was thinking about maybe getting some ingredients and making pasta, but you know what I'm like with an oven." She said with a giggle looking up at him. Sherlock smirked.
"I believe you blew up the last one you tried using," He reminded her with a knowing smile. "We'll just go out somewhere to eat; it's what I usually do."
"Every night?"
"No point cooking for myself when there are others trained to do it."
"I can't stand that…" Maria said and Sherlock looked down at her. "I do like to eat at home sometimes."
Sherlock sighed.
"I guess we'd don't have to eat out, so long as you can promise not to destroy the apartment."
"It's just pasta."
"You say that now…"
They arrived at Maria's apartment which she unlocked and allowed Holmes to step inside. She pulled off her light green coat and threw it down before walking over to the nearest things and beginning to stack them in a somewhat orderly fashion. Sherlock dropped his coat and walked over to help, his fingers immediately finding her laptop.
"Why do you need a laptop?" He questioned. Maria had never been one for computers.
"My therapist insisted that I write a blog about everything that happens to me in my day-to-day life. I've done more in one night than I have in the week I've been back. I'll at least have something to write when I settle down tonight." She said, before moving over to the window to glance out. "Mrs Hudson's here." She announced before taking a pile of stuff to the door and heading out.
Sherlock was left alone to ponder this new knowledge about Maria. So her therapist believed that writing a blog would help her deal with her suffering? Somehow he didn't see the logic in that. He moved over to another part of the room to examine the space.
Everything had changed. Where once she would have had many oddments and curiosities, she barely had anything. She used to love little trinkets and such, but he could see none in sight. Had she taken on the military 'bring only what you need' routine so much she was still like it here? Then he would waste no time spoiling her into forgetting about that place and its memories, particularly if it got rid of her nightmares.
Maria came back in to find him looking around in the kitchen.
"The stuff to carry is out here Holmes," She said motioning at the pile of stuff he could carry out for her.
"Right," He said moving over and picking it up. Once Mrs Hudson's car was full, she drove back to Baker's street with Sherlock, while Maria stayed behind on her own to clear up the last of her stuff.
However, what she didn't know was that she was being watched from afar, from one of the opposite buildings. He was watching her move around, packing stuff; she didn't know he was there though.
"What lovely red hair…" The man muttered to himself, greedily watching Maria. "I must find out where you're going…"
