Save Me

477 11 1
                                    

Several hours had passed, back at 221B, the case continued. Above the sofa the wall was completely covered with paperwork: maps, photos of Connie Prince, dead and alive, photos of Carl Powers, press cuttings, various sheets of paper with notes scribbled onto them. It was all connected by pins, and a red string, linking them together. Sherlock is pacing back and forth, Lestrade and Victoria standing by, awaiting for him to make sense of the puzzle before him. "Connection, connection, connection." Sherlock muttered under his breath, "There must be a connection." He stops, gesturing to various spots on the display, "Carl Powers, killed twenty years. The bomber knew him; admitted that he knew him. The bomber's iPhone was in stationary from Czech Republic. First hostage from Cornwall; the second from London; the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What's he doing-working his way around the world? Showing off?" The pink phone rings, this captures everyone's attention, he sees who it is, switching it to speaker.

The old woman speaks up, "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Joining the...dots." She lets out a sob, "You have three hours: boom...boom." She lets out a final cry of terror, then the phone goes dead.

Sherlock looks to Lestrade for a moment, switching off the phone, and putting it back in his pocket. Lestrade walks away with a shake of his head, his mind racing too. Victoria watches as Sherlock brings his hand into a prayer position, concentrating on the collage before him. The woman stood there, taking it all in, she couldn't help but think of the things she knew, wondering if somehow she could get him on the right track. With that, came risks, risks she wasn't willing to take. She just had to have faith in the consulting detective.

"Sherlock, there's something I've been meaning to tell you-something I didn't tell you before. It's about what happened then with dad-my family-" Victoria's eyes met Sherlock's, she was about to give him what he wanted. The truth. It was interrupted by the ring of his phone. He pulled out the device, making a rather pleased sound, answering it, then walking away to have a talk on his phone. Lestrade sauntered over, who had taken notice of her talking to Sherlock. The red head looks to the inspector, offering a small smile, "We haven't properly met. Everything goes so fast around him. Sorry I haven't stopped to take a breather." She offers him a hand to shake, "Victoria Phillips, its a pleasure to meet you."

He smiles, taking her hand in his, "Pleasure to meet you. Greg Lestrade. You can call me what you like. I don't even think that bastard knows my first name." Lestrade whispers jokingly, nodding his head to Sherlock, who was distracted by his phone call. Victoria laughed. He looked back to the woman, thinking about the fact that he knew something that Sherlock didn't, after all it was well hidden, and the only reason he knew was because of Sherlock's older brother. "Look, I've spoke to Mycroft, I was curious about you, after Dimmock told me about the last case. He told me what happened, or at least as much as he knew. About your dad. I just wanted to say I'm sorry to hear about what happened." His tone was sincere, he looked her in the eyes, only saying the truth.

Victoria wasn't sure what to think. Sure she couldn't wait to have a talk with Mycroft, where she'd shout abuse at him for completely exposing her life's story to a perfect stranger, but for now she was almost glad that someone knew, even if it wasn't Sherlock. There was something comforting about it. "It's fine. It will be, perhaps not now, but later, when things brush over. I am ready for Sherlock to know, but it'll have to wait."

"I don't mean to pry, but you know how to get in touch with me. If you need anything. With everything happening, it makes me think it's only beginning of something bigger." Lestrade says lowly.

Victoria sighs, looking away from him, "You have no idea."

Suddenly Mrs. Hudson saunters in with refreshments, Sherlock is walking closer to the fireplace. The land lady comes to stand with Victoria and Lestrade, looking sad, "It was real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colors. You know, what goes best with what. According to her I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me." She makes a gesture to the dress she's wearing.

TO BE FOUND : Book OneWhere stories live. Discover now