Authoress Note: Welcome to Chapter 4 of Detective Buchanan. I want to thank those who have left reviews. It truly does mean a lot to me that you guys are enjoying this story. I am trying my best to write this out and make it as good as I can make it. I hope that you guys enjoy this next part. Without further ado Chapter 4. ENJOY!

Chapter 4

Iseabail walked up the stairs and into the living room of Sherlock's flat. She saw that he was stretched out on the sofa laying there with his eyes closed. Iseabail crossed her arms as she looked at him, noticing that he had his jacket off, his shirt sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up his arms. "Using patches again, hm?"

Sherlock didn't open his eyes listening to what his friend was saying. "You know they help me think." He said not moving much.

Iseabail shook her head lightly.

"I'm surprised that you're even here." Sherlock stated as he pressed the palm of his right hand firmly onto the underside of his left arm just below the elbow.

"Even though we don't act like friends any more, Sherily, you know I'd come and help you no matter what. Even if it does perhaps cost me my job."

Sherlock suddenly snapped his eyes open wide and he stared fixedly on the ceiling, before letting out a noisy breath before relaxing.

John came through the door, then stopped staring at Sherlock as he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his left fist. "What are you doing?"

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think." Sherlock said as he lifted his right hand to show that he had three round nicotine patches stuck to his arm and it was the items he was pressing against his skin to release the substances more quickly.

Iseabail simply shook her head as she sat down in one of the empty chairs resting her legs some.

"Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work." Sherlock loudly clicked the k on the last word.

"It's good news for breathing." John said as he came into the room more.

"Oh, breathing. Breathing's boring."

John frowned as he looked more closely at Sherlock's arm. "Is that three patches?"

Sherlock pressed his hands together in the prayer position under his chin. "It's a three-patch problem." He closed his eyes once again.

"Of course you would put it that way." Iseabail said, shaking her head lightly. "You could do without the patches Sherlock." She knew that he just wanted the nicotine from the patches to give his brain a burst into overdrive. She crossed her arms looking at Sherlock with pursed lips.

John looked around the room for a moment, his eyes landing on the officer in the room before looking down at Sherlock again. "Well?"

Sherlock didn't reply to what John had asked.

"You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important." John questioned sticking his hands in his pockets not liking the idea that he had been called when he was on the other side of town.

Sherlock didn't reply instantly, but after a couple of seconds his eyes snapped open. He doesn't bother to turn his head to look at John. "Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?"

"My phone?"

"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognised. It's on the website."

"Mrs Hudson's got a phone."

"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear."

"You could've borrowed her's." John said, pointing to Iseabail.

"Her number would be known too."

"I was the other side of London." John said, becoming irritated.

"There was no hurry." Sherlock said calmly.

John glared at him as he gazed serenely at the ceiling before closing his eyes again. Eventually John dug his phone out of his jacket pocket and held it towards him. "Here."

Without opening his eyes, Sherlock held out his right hand with the palm up.

John glowered at him for a moment, then stepped forward and slapped the phone into his hand.

Sherlock slowly lifted his arm and put his hands together again, this time with the phone between his palms.

John turned and walked a few paces away before turning around again. "So what's this about – the case?"

"Her case."

"Her case?"

Sherlock opened his eyes. "Her suitcase, yes, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake."

"Probably too big of a mistake to make… he'll get caught…" Iseabail said, shaking her head thinking.

"Okay, he took her case. So?" John said his brows furrowing some.

"It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." Sherlock said more to himself. He imperiously held the phone out towards John, still not looking at him. "On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text."

John half-smiled in angry disbelief. "You brought me here ... to send a text."

"Text, yes. The number on my desk." He continued to hold out the phone while John glowered at him, possibly wondering if he could get away with murder.

Eventually John stomped across the room and snatched the phone from Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock refolded his hands under his chin and closed his eyes.

Instead of going to the table, John walked over to the window and looked at the street below.

Sherlock opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly towards him. "What's wrong?"

"Just met a friend of yours."

Sherlock frowned in confusion. He didn't have any friends, except for Iseabail and that was rather strained due to their history. "A friend?"

"An enemy."

Sherlock immediately relaxed. "Oh. Which one?"

"Your arch-enemy, according to him." John turned towards Sherlock. "Do people have arch-enemies?"

Sherlock looked towards him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?"

"No."

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time."

"Who is he?"

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now. On my desk, the number."

John gave him a dark look, but Sherlock has already looked away from him again. John walked over to the desk and picked up a piece of paper taken from the luggage label. He looked at the name on the paper. "Jennifer Wilson. That was ... Hang on. Wasn't that the dead woman?"

"Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number."

John shook his head and got his phone out and started to type the number into it.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yes."

"Have you done it?"

"Ye... hang on!"

"These words exactly: "What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.""

John started to type but looked briefly across to Sherlock as if concerned in what he had just said.

Sherlock continued to talk. ""Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.""

John looked across to Sherlock again, frowning. "You blacked out?"

"What? No. No!" Sherlock flipped his legs around and stood up, taking the shortest route to the kitchen which involved walking over the coffee table beside the sofa rather than around it. "Type and send it. Quickly."

"Best do as he says." Iseabail said softly.

Sherlock came back into the living room carrying a small suitcase. Once again walking over to the dining table, lifting it up onto one of the chairs and flipped it around, setting it down in front of the two armchairs near the fireplace. He put the suitcase onto the chair before sitting in an armchair.

John continued to type.

"Have you sent it?"

"What's the address?"

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Hurry up!"

"Sherlock don't you have any patience?" Iseabail questioned as she got up to her feet.

John finished the message, then looked around as Sherlock unzipped the case and flipped open the lid revealing the contents. John turned towards the case staggering slightly in shock. "That's ... that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case."

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock said as he studied the case.

John continued to stare, and Sherlock looked up at him and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn't kill her."

"I never said you did."

"Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption."

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?"

"Now and then, yes." Sherlock said with a smirk. He put his hands onto the arms of the armchair and lifted his feet up and under him so that he was perching on the seat with his backside braced against the backrest, then clasped his hands under his chin.

"Okay …" John said, limping across the room and dropped heavily into the armchair on the other side of the fireplace. "How did you get this?"

"By looking."

"Where?"

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every backstreet wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."

"Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?"

"Well, it had to be pink, obviously."

"Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're an idiot."

"Sherlock, he's not an idiot." Iseabail said, letting out a scoff.

John looked across to him, startled.

Sherlock makes a placatory gesture with one hand. "No, no, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is." He refolded his hands and then extended his index fingers to point to the case. "Now, look. Do you see what's missing?"

"From the case? How could I?"

"Her phone. Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case. We know she had one – that's her number there; you just texted it."

"Maybe she left it at home."

Sherlock put his hands onto the arms of the chair and raised himself up so that he could lower his feet to the floor, then sit down properly in the chair. "She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home." He puts the slip of paper back into the luggage label on the case looking at John expectantly.

"Er …" He looked down at his mobile phone which he had put onto the arm of his chair. "Why did I just send that text?"

"Well, the question is: where is her phone now?" Iseabail said, looking at John.

"She could have lost it." John said looking at Iseabail his brows furrowed.

"Yes, or ...?" Sherlock began looking at John trying to get him to tell him what he thought.

"The murderer ... You think the murderer has the phone?"

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone."

"Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?"

Suddenly his phone began to ring.

John picked it up and looked at the caller id. It read withheld. He looked across to Sherlock as the phone continued to ring.

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer …" Sherlock paused dramatically for a moment until the phone stopped ringing. " ... would panic." He flipped the lid of the suitcase closed and stood up, walking across the room to pick up his jacket.

John continued to stare down at his phone.

Sherlock put on his jacket and walked towards the door.

Iseabail let out a breath and grabbed her coat before slowly slipping it on.

John finally looked up. "Have you talked to the police?"

"Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police. And we have an officer here."

"So why are you talking to me?"

Sherlock reached behind the door to take his greatcoat from the hook. As he looked across towards John, he noticed something missing from the mantelpiece. "Mrs Hudson took my skull."

"So I'm basically filling in for your skull?"

Sherlock put his coat on. "Relax, you're doing fine."

John didn't move.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, you could just sit there and watch telly."

"What, you want me to come with you?"

"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention, so …"

John smiled briefly.

"Problem?"

"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan."

Iseabail let out a breath shaking her head. Of course he would bring up Sergeant Donovan.

Sherlock looked away in exasperation. "What about her?"

"She said ... You get off on this. You enjoy it."

"And I said "dangerous," and here you are." Instantly Sherlock turned and walked out the door.

"Don't believe everything Sergeant Donovan says. She dislikes Sherlock." Iseabail said as she followed Sherlock down the stairs. She knew that John was going to take someone's side and she would much prefer it if he was on her and Sherlock's side. She could only hope that he would put what Sergeant Donovan said behind him.

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This is the end of Chapter 4. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Hopefully soon I will have the pairing for this story. I am just curious about who you want to see Iseabail with. I know we haven't really seen her interact with Mycroft yet, but I promise you soon that she will interact with him and it might make things easier to choose who she should be with in the end. Reviews keep me going in my updates. I hope to have the next part out soon. Until next time.