Chapter 3.5: Wrists, Pt 2

"Sherlock Holmes. That's what it says- Sherlock Holmes."

"I know John. I can read." Sherlock was being unusually blunt.

"But, what does it mean?" asked Lestrade

"It means he knows I'm here." said Sherlock.

"Well of course you are- by now we would have asked you to help us anyway, and the whole of London and probably beyond knows that you help us." said Lestrade.

"No. He knows I did this voluntarily. I could have turned you down, but I didn't. I came to you the moment I saw on the news that there's been another murder. This means he knows Scotland Yard." Sherlock turned to face Lestrade. "He's on the inside."

"Sherlock? On the inside, what do you mean?" Lestrade asked.

"It's simple. The murderer is in Scotland Yard, possibly right this minute. We have to do a full search."

"Or," said John. "We could just check the CCTV."

"Of course! The CCTV! John you're a genius!" Sherlock grabbed John's cheeks and kissed him, before running inside. Lestrade and John ran inside after him.

They found him sat staring intensely at a horde of computer screens.

"Did you find it?"

"No." Sherlock replied immediately. "It's been deleted. There's no footage of anything from after midnight up until we run outside. Nothing."

"That means he knows the system." said John.

"Exactly how far inside is this murderer?" asked Lestrade, clearly shaken.

"I don't know. And I don't like not knowing."

"So what do we do now?" asked Molly.

"Take the bodies. Look for anything we haven't found- DNA samples, fingerprints, anything. Lestrade- try to find the murder weapon. It'll be somewhere enclosed and with limited access, like some kind of store cupboard that only a handful of people have access to. John- with me. We're finding that CCTV." People ran in various directions as per Sherlock's instructions, with Lestrade looking a little startled.

"Sherlock, how on earth do we find deleted CCTV files?"

"Hacking, John. Hacking."

"You can hack?"

"Well yes it's not difficult."

Sherlock began to type away furiously, clicking madly and his eyes darting back and forth across the screen for half an hour, until he finally proclaimed, "I've got it!" John had been starting to lose hope, but somewhere inside he knew that Sherlock wouldn't let him down. His Sherlock would never let him down.

"So." asked John. "Who is it?"

"It isn't that simple. Clearly the person had compensated for this. Look, they're wearing a black balaclava and a black and orange coat that says 'Superdry' on it. They're wearing gloves too, so I bet Molly hasn't had any luck."

"Sherlock!" Lestrade came running into the office. "I haven't found a weapon, but I'll bet that a murderer wears a balaclava when committing his crimes."

"Brilliant! We'd just managed to get the CCTV footage back- the murderer was wearing a balaclava."

"There weren't any black gloves there by any chance?" asked John.

"Actually, there were. I'll go and get them."

"Great. Meet us with Molly." said Sherlock.

"Molly!" Sherlock pushed open both doors fabulously, and walked straight to the bodies. "Anything?" he asked.

"Oh, er, yes. I've found quite a few of these fibres all over the bodies, but no hairs or fingerprints."

"That's because they were wearing gloves." said Lestrade, running in. "But, er, we have a problem. The gloves- they're gone."

"Get his building locked down immediately." said John. "He knows we're getting close. He cannot leave this building."

"I'll go." said Lestrade, jogging back out. John's face was stern. He was tense.

"The fibres- were they similar to those on a pair of wool gloves?" asked John.

"It's difficult to tell, without seeing the gloves. But it's possible that the gloves and that balaclava were part of a set, so I'll see if the fibres match." Molly took a few strands of wool from the balaclava and took them along with the samples from the body to the microscope. While she was busy, Sherlock turned to John.

"You look tense."

"Yeah, I am. We're in the same building as a cold-hearted killer, and we don't even know who it is! Of course I'm tense!" John was about to explode. Sherlock held him close and kissed his forehead.

"We will figure this out, I promise."

"I know." said John, leaning up to kiss Sherlock. Their lips met, and John forgot about everything that was going on. For a blissful few seconds, there was no murderer, no problem, just Sherlock.

"Er, I'm sorry to interrupt, but, it's a match. The person who owns this balaclava is our murderer." said Molly.

"See?" said Sherlock. "I told you we'd figure it out." He smiled, looking pleased with himself, and not because they'd figured it out- because he'd made John happy. Lestrade came back in, looking disgruntled and unhappy.

"The building is on lockdown. It I told them to be discreet about it. If the murderer doesn't know that we're on lockdown, he won't be as panicked."

"Good thinking." said John. "And the balaclava fibres match the ones we found on the body perfectly."

"Where did you find the balaclava?" asked Sherlock.

"Maintenance." replied Lestrade. "They have their own section of Scotland Yard, so all of their offices and cupboards and meeting rooms are in the same area. It was in a cupboard next to Kimberley's office."

"Brilliant. What else was in the cupboard?"

"Er, nothing. Just that and the gloves."

"Okay. We need to find a black and orange Superdry coat, approximately men's size small."

"That's Kimberley's coat! She wears it almost every day." exclaimed Lestrade. "Wait..."

"Kimberley!" shouted Sherlock. "It's her! Find her. Now."

Lestrade ran off to gather every security officer he could find to arrest Kimberley. John and Sherlock followed closely. They managed to catch her just as she was leaving, conveniently enough. John watched as two officers put her in handcuffs and frogmarched her to a cell. She was silent.

"Do you think she's guilty?" asked Molly.

"All signs point to her." said Sherlock. "And anyway, if it's not, then she'll be released with no charge and the real murderer will think they've gotten away with it."

"Which they won't have." added John. He was smiling now, and it was obvious that he'd loosened up since before. Sherlock put his arm around John and they walked out of Scotland Yard to hail a taxi.

Back at 221B, Mrs Hudson was rushing around with kettles and pans and talking about how worried she was.

"You boys just left yesterday morning, and you've only just got back! Where've you been?" She wasn't stern; it was worry that tinged her voice.

"Mrs Hudson, we are grown men. We are allowed to leave the house." said John.

"Yes well next time tell me first, I had about eight cups of tea up there for you that've gone stone cold! You'll be washing the mugs next time!"

"But Mrs Hudson, you're our landlady, not our housekeeper." said John.

"Oh don't you start now!" said Mrs Hudson, slightly laughing. "Go on- upstairs." The three of them laughed, and John and Sherlock went upstairs. Sherlock went straight into his bedroom, and emerged around 30 seconds later wearing pyjamas. John was stood over a boiling kettle making hot chocolate.

"I'll be in in a moment." He said.

"I know." said Sherlock, putting his arms around John and kissing the top of his head.

Molly

John's my boyfriend.

SH