A Nemesis

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  • Dedicated to SaraBeth Abbey
                                    

"Hang on," Lestrade intervened. "Let's not get sidetracked. Now, this girl hadn't spoken until you entered the room, Sherlock, which means, she's been expecting you. Do you think the man who tried to kill her and the man she's living with are connected?"

Sherlock waved him off and chuckled. "Oh no, no, no. Quite opposite. The man she's living with is like her guardian-her caregiver who was there to protect her from the man who tried to murder her. The man who murdered her is from the man behind the scenes. He's the one I'm after."

"And what about the club? What's important about that?" John asked, returning beside Sherlock.

"Well, obviously she's there to distract the crowd from something that's not supposed to be happening back stage."

"Narcotics?" Lestrade inquired, his hands propped up on his waist.

"No, something more dangerous."

Sonia's hands gripped the bed rail and her eyes went back and forth between Lestrade and Sherlock. Her jaw grinded and the hair on her back stood up straight.

"Well, what's your hunch, Sherlock-," Lestrade nudged before Sonia broke out into an ear-piercing scream.

"Oh God," John gasped, grabbing Sherlock by the jacket. "She's having a fit."

The girl began contorting her limbs and arching her back as if she was experiencing unbearable pain. Her mouth was open in a loud scream and tears were trickling down her face. "Help me! Please, help me!"

Several nurses infiltrated the room and immediately began trying to calm her. One nurse looked up at Lestrade and ordered clearly, "Please, get out of the room, sir. Take your friends, too."

"No!" Sherlock refused, dodging a nurse. He sprang to Sonia's side and took her roughly by the shoulders. He lifted her so that they were eye to eye. Through seething teeth, he said in a hushed voice, "I figured it out, didn't I? Didn't I?"

Sonia gargled something and her eyes rolled back in unconsciousness. A nurse took Sherlock by the arms and ushered him out of the room where he met Lestrade and John. Sonia's door was slammed shut and locked.

John was the first to speak. "Well done, mate. Well done. You completely frightened the girl and we won't be able to return."

Sherlock grinned and yanked his scarf off. "Don't worry, John. I got what I needed."

"Which was what?" Lestrade asked, glaring at the patients and staff who had been around them at Sonia's fit.

"Sex trafficking, Lestrade. That's what she's involved in. The club is just a bridge to the traders."

"Oh good God. Why weren't we aware?" Lestrade lamented. "We have protection and have people searching for victims daily."

"Save your breath, Lestrade, we'll catch the man behind all this. I'll do some research tonight. Sonia isn't a victim, she works for them. The Shady Woman is used to bring victims to and from their "masters" without being seen. After all, how many people go to a gentleman's club in the slums? The cops are called there to stop riots, they wouldn't think about an underground human trafficking system. I mean, they could, but they're not looking for that. Anyway, John and I will be up all night, Lestrade. You can go have a drink with Donavon and marvel over my once-again brilliant discovery."

"Thank you, Sherlock. Be sure to keep me updated. I'll be at the office most of the time."

Sherlock brandished his phone at Lestrade. "I've got your number. Expect me to text you sometime between 2:00 and 3:00 AM. Come along, John."

John shook Lestrade's hand in valediction and then followed his friend to the elevator. "What's next?"

"We're going to The Shady Woman. Don't think anyone would recognize us, but follow my lead. I've always got people out looking for me. And I just hope we have enough time before Sonia alerts her people about me."

"Who do you think is behind all this?" John asked as they stepped into the transportation box. The doors closed and Sherlock said in a lowered voice-,

"Seth Mullen."

"Wait, who? How is he connected?" John asked with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Oh, John, don't be clever. You know exactly who he is." Sherlock thumbed through a webpage on his Smartphone and then, with a dramatic presentation of his hand, showed John a photograph of two men. A man with chiseled features and androgynous features stood proudly in a military uniform. His comrade beside him, in a more dignified stance, was John Watson.

"I-I don't remember him, though. I mean, the face is familiar, but his name wasn't Seth Mullen. He wasn't from my division. He was in the," John began stuttering and his search for words became scarce.

"Don't worry, John. I think this case isn't about me," a simper tugged at Sherlock's mouth as he looked down at his friend. "I think you've got yourself a nemesis."

John cleared his throat and said defiantly, "I don't' have a nemesis. And why would he be interested in sex trafficking? And why would it be about me? Just because I'm in the photograph with him doesn't mean we were pals. He probably doesn't even remember me-wait, where did you get that photo?"

"I searched for 'John Watson', and found it under a personal blog. The blogger's name is," Sherlock turned the phone towards him and said sarcastically, "what do you know? Ah! 'Seth Mullen.' Obviously he doesn't like you. He probably stalks your blog and has found out all that we do. Your nemesis doesn't have to have a huge battle waging between you, it could be as small as a spark of jealousy."

"So, you think he's mad at me because he read my blog and found out I was friends with a detective, therefore, he's after me to stop me from perhaps revealing what he does? I mean, we've already figured it out."

"No, there's more. There's Sonia. She's an important piece as well. I mean, why would someone fake a murder and rape?"

"Perhaps to distract us? Sonia could be just a pawn. We need to look into Seth-,"

"No, you need to look into it. I can easily do that myself, but you were on the same base with him. Start asking officers and other people who worked with him. Find out about him and what he did when he returned from the war. For all you know, John, he could've left the war right when you did. I'm beginning to think there was more that happened on the frontline that you're just not ready to tell me about."

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