A Study in Reason

Monday, November 3rd, 2014

After the meeting in which Sherlock Holmes agreed to take my case, I walked out into the crisp London air. It was colder than I was used to for this time of year, but that was to be expected: I had been living in Florida for the past five years.

It was so good to be home.

I hailed a taxi and gave the address of the hotel that I was staying at - not too far from here, but I'd rather get there quickly: It was freezing standing out on the streets. When I got to my hotel room, I opened the top drawer of my bedside table and pulled out the Folder marked: 'Private Property of Clara Lane' I opened it and began to flick through, adding to notes here and there. Sherlock would probably kill me if he found out what was in here.

Returning the folder to its original place, I put the file I'd brought to his house this afternoon on top of it and closed the drawer.

I decided to ring my parents because they didn't know I was here and it would be plain rude not to tell them their only child had returned to England for the fist time since graduating university.

'Hi, mum. It's me.'

My mother gasped on the other end if the line. 'Penny! How good it is to hear your voice!'

'Mum!' I complained. 'You know I hate it when you call me that.'

'But it's funny, Pen!' I heard my dad call in the background.

'Dad, please! You gave me a stupid name. Thank God Gran stepped in and insisted I have a middle name so I could chose what I am called. Please, just call me Clara? Just for the duration of this phone call?'

'Of course, dear. I'm sorry,' my mum giggled. 'This must be important. Those overseas rates are dear.'

'Actually, mum, I'm in London.'

'But that's wonderful! We should come down and see you! How long are you here for?'

'I don't know. It's for a case, I could be here for a few days or weeks. It depends on how long it takes to get what I need.'

'So you're going to be busy, then?' my mum asked, sounding slightly crestfallen.

'Oh no. Not all the time,' I reassured her quickly. 'Maybe, you know, when I know what's going to happen, we could get together.'

'Oh, that would be wonderful!' my mum exclaimed. I smiled. My mobile phone vibrated in my pocket. I had a text message.

I checked it and said to my mother, 'Yeah, it would. Listen mum, I've got to go. I'll ring you later, okay?'

'Okay, love. I love you!'

'Love you too,' I replied before hanging up and glancing down at the message again.

Baker Street now. Bring all documents you have on case.

SH

*

'Do you treat everyone like that or am I special?' I asked as I walked into 221B Baker Street for the second time that day.

'Like what?' John asked. I showed him the text message and he nodded. 'Yep. He does. You get used to it after a while.' I gave a derisive laugh.

'And you put up with him. You deserve a medal.'

'He's got one,' Sherlock interjected.

'Oh, that's right! You were a soldier weren't you?' I asked John. He shifted awkwardly but didn't have time to say anything because Sherlock was talking again, reading from a laptop on the table in the living room.