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Two hours later they were back at John's place... with a small bright pink suitcase. The git was right! Of course he was right! John thought for the umpteenth time since the beginning of his date with Sherlock. N ot bad... I was able to bring him home on our first date! John was thinking derisively ... Of course it really wasn't a 'date' date, but John felt curiously really pleased anyway. The last hours were probably the most efficient way to get to know the remarkable librarian. I should stop calling him that... He grins inwardly. No... Everyone likes a sexy librarian. Yes, I'm more aware of what this could become than after a restaurant discussion full of 'What do your parents do?' and 'Where did you go to uni?'. His stomach rumbled loudly nonetheless . Food would be nice right now!
"Sherlock? Do you want to eat something, I could call for... WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" The man was opening the suitcase! All ideas of a romantic dinner flew out of John mind. "Shouldn’t you wait for Lestrade!? I'm not really versed in all that police stuff, but I've seen enough CSI shows to know better! You shouldn't touch evidence!"
"Why? Every minute counts, John! And I've got gloves..." He raises his hands to show his gloved hands with a huge grin of excitement. He goes back to rummaging in the suitcase until he gives up on his search for a phone or a personal organizer. "No phone, it's impossible, where is it..." He mutters frantically. "Oh!!!" He realizes suddenly something, "JOHN! I need your phone please."
"And what's wrong with yours...?" John asks while giving his phone to Sherlock anyway.
"I don't want my phone number to be recognized." He quickly sends a text then gives the phone back to the doctor.
"And mine is ok?" Looking at the last text sent, he reads "I lost my phone yesterday, could we please met so I can have it back? Txs Jennifer" John turns cold instantly, "Did you just poke a serial killer with MY phone?"
"Yes, I'm certain that he kept the phone voluntarily or by accident. A text from the woman he thinks he killed should trigger a reaction..." He looks smugly at John, proud of himself.
"This is SO wrong! Why does she get into an unknown car! People are so careless!" He knows it was not really nice to say that about a dead woman and he feels badly as soon as it leaves his mouth.
Laughing slowly at John's outburst... Sherlock murmurs,"Who do we follow, who do we trust, even if we don’t know them?" He sighs... "Who do we follow, who do we trust, even if we don’t know them?"
A knock on the door stops John from arguing back against Sherlock's logic, poking a serial killer with a stick! It was Ms. Hudson with an unhappy Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson.
"Dear, you've got people to see you..." But she totally forgot Lestrade and Anderson when she saw Sherlock, "Hoooooo.... Who's that young man? Is it a friend? A particular friend? You know I've got nothing against it! I only want you to be happy my dear boy!" What a fine-looking man, but he needs to be fed more properly, he's too thin... I'll take care of it! Her cooing was abruptly interrupted by the man himself.
"What are you doing here Lestrade? Are you following me?"
"Well, I knew you’d find the case and that you won't go to your brother's house... I’m not stupid." At Sherlock's dismay, the DI was enjoying himself tremendously.
Sherlock tried to close the door, but Lestrade won't let him. "You can’t just come into a flat without reason!
"It’s a drugs bust!" He replies with an innocent look while John looks incredulously at the scene.
"They're no drugs in this apartment, I'm a bloody doctor, I know better!" John protests.
"We can search a person also..." He adds, walking towards the doctor's new 'friend' with a devious grin. Sherlock was looking at Lestrade with a murderous look. If you blow up my chance with John I will kill you, his eyes were silently saying.
John, not realizing the power play between the two men, bursts out laughing. "Seriously? This guy, a junkie? Have you met him?" He points at the tall man who turned his world upside down, "I’m pretty sure you could search him and his flat all day, you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational."
"John..." Sherlock says softly.
"... but come on ... he's a bloody LIBRARIAN!" He finally turns to look into Sherlock's eyes and he saw doubt... and shame. And probably a not so subtle 'Would you please shut the fuck up now!'
"No, YOU...?"
"I've told you that I had a rough time few years back..." Sherlock says sheepishly "Anyway, now is not the time! Some confidences should wait for at least the 10th date! Lestrade you know that is ludicrous and if you officially write somewhere that you've made a drug bust in Doctor Watson's flat, you may harm is career..."
"...You could help us properly and I’ll stop." Mycroft was right; this doctor of his is a great pressure point.
With an exasperated yet defeated tone, Sherlock utters, "This is childish!"
"Well, I’m dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear? We're not completely brainless. You found the case, but we’ve found Rachel."
"Who is she?"
"Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter." Lestrade explains looking at Sherlock in the hope he figures out something from all this.
Walking randomly in the living room, Sherlock was talking to himself. I really love this flat... It's cosy! Nice fireplace... my skull could fit nicely on the mantle! Out loud, he asks"Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?"
Anderson, now in the living room, was looking at the open suitcase. "Never mind that. We've got the case! According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath." He sends a loathing gaze at the amateur detective.
"I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research..." He sneers at Anderson, "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her."
"She’s dead."
"Excellent Lestrade!", John looks with disbelieve at Sherlock, "How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be."
"Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago..." Lestrade reads from is notebook.
Confusion spread on Sherlock face. "No, that’s ... that’s not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?"
Anderson, still angry with him, does not hesitate to jump on the occasion "Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Sociopath; I’m seeing it now!"
The exasperation was now clearly showing in Sherlock attitude. Why everyone thinks that I can't understand basic emotion! "She didn’t think about her stillborn daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." He continues to pace around the room. "Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?" He stops talking when he realizes that everyone was looking at him silently. He finds John's eyes and asks awkwardly, "Not good?"
"Bit not good, yeah."
Walking closer to John, he asks him, "Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you’d been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?"
With a sad smile, John replies, "Please, God, let me live."
"Oh, use your imagination!" Why everyone is so sentimental!
The ex-soldier whispers, "I don’t have to..."
Standing near John with a demure stance, Sherlock looks at him and articulates without a sound, for John's only, I'm so sorry, John, I didn't think... Are you ok? After few seconds, John nods positively. The mad genius starts to talk again for everyone in the room, "Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever. She’s trying to tell us something."
Mrs. Hudson, who left to open the front door, came back to announce that Sherlock's taxi was here.
"I didn’t order a taxi. Go away. Shut up, everybody shut up! Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You’re putting me off."
"What? My face is?!"
Lestrade, knowing by Sherlock's look that he was serious, states "Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back."
"Oh, for God’s sake!"
"Your back, now, please!... This is an order Anderson!"
Sherlock was now muttering to himself, his hands on his head. " Come on, think. Quick!"
"But what about your taxi my dear?" Mrs. Hudson asks anxiously.
"JOHN! Your housekeeper is annoying me! Control that woman!!" A furious Sherlock shouts. Why everyone can't stay silent for Christ sakes! Mrs. Hudson leaves quickly thinking that for such a nice elegant man, he had really bad manners! Finally everything was in place in Sherlock's mind. "Ah! She was clever, clever, yes! She’s cleverer than you lot and she’s dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn’t lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him." He starts pacing again, but with glee in his steps. "When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."
Lestrade, not following a bit, asks "But how?"
"Wha...? What do you mean, how?" Seeing that the DI incomprehension was real, Sherlock shout triumphantly, "Rachel!" After a pause... "Don’t you see? Rachel!" He laughs in disbelief, as everyone was looking clueless. "Oh, look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Rachel is not a name."
A little bit put off by Sherlock comment, I am a bloody doctor and an army captain, I am not an idiot!, John asks coldly "Then what is it?"
"John, on the luggage, there’s a label. E-mail address. Give it to me."
"Yeah, let me look. jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk." He stares back at Sherlock as he sat down at his desk and opened his laptop. My bloody laptop... Oh God, I hope he won't check the browser history...
"Oh, I’ve been too slow. She didn’t have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it’s a smartphone, it’s e-mail enabled." He accessed the Mephone’s website and types the email address into the ‘User name’ box and the password 'Rachel'. "It works! YES! Thanks God for a sentimental woman with no sense of online security!"
Anderson, not wanting to recognize Sherlock's genius, says, "So we can read her e-mails. So what?"
"Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street... We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It’s a smartphone, it’s got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She’s leading us directly to the man who killed her."
Understanding instantly, Lestrade hopes rise, then fall! "Unless he got rid of it."
Thinking of the text they sent earlier, John looks at his phone quickly and sees that the text was read. Showing the screen at Sherlock he answers the DI. "We know he didn’t."
"Come on, come on. Quickly!" Sherlock was arguing with the website. They should have upgraded their server years ago! I should hack it and left them a message about it! This is so sloooow!!
Mrs. Hudson, taking her courage in both hands, came back in the flat. "Young man, this taxi driver wont leave..."
Sherlock, calmer now that he found what he was looking for, deduces her quickly, not wanting to alienate John's housekeeper, nooooo landlady, talks to her smoothly. "Mrs. Hudson, isn’t it time for your evening soother?"
Turning to Lestrade, he orders, "We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter. We’re going to have to move fast. This phone battery won’t last for ever."
"Sherlock ..." John, who was still looking at the screen, interjects "SHERLOCK! ..."
Walking back quickly to the doctor, Sherlock peeks over his shoulder "What is it? Quickly, where?"
"It’s here. It’s in 221 Baker Street." John stares incredulously at the map.
"How can it be here? How?"
"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere." Lestrade starts to look around.
"What, and I didn’t notice it? Me? I didn’t notice?" Sherlock was looking at the DI. He knows that I'm better than this!
"It can be here Lestrade. We texted him and he checked it." John explains to Sherlock's amazement. He's right; I've got someone on my side... How refreshing!
Sherlock was falling into his Mind Palace, thinking of the conversation he had with John earlier... Who do we trust, even if we don’t know them?
In the stairs, behind Mrs. Hudson, the cab driver was now near the entrance of the flat. His face was still in the shadows but his London cab driver license in sight. The amateur detective turns to acknowledge him as the question 'Who do we trust, even if we don’t know them?' runs endlessly in his mind.
Discreetly, for Sherlock's eyes only, the drive takes a pink phone from his pocket and sends a message to Sherlock personal phone: "COME WITH ME". Then he heads down the stairs.
Sherlock, taken aback and with questions all around his head, slowly picks up his coat and scarf...
"Sherlock, you okay?"
"What? Yeah, yeah, I-I’m fine."
"So, how can the phone be here? We can't find it anywhere! Anyway, it's not logical..."
"Dunno." He puts his coat and knots his blue scarf.
John was now worried. He's leaving just like that? Have I done something wrong? "Where are you going?"
"Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won’t be long." He goes down the stairs, out of sight, while John calls after him.
"You sure you’re all right?"
Before leaving by the front entrance, Sherlock turns and looks at the top of the stairs. "I’m fine." I really must found a more traditional way to woo John on our next date...
Then he voluntarily gets into a cab with a serial killer.