The Baker Street Brothers

Chapter Eight

Sherlock subtly looks at Enzo, worry in his eyes "We've found Rachel." Lestrade tells the brothers. "Who is she?" Enzo asks, opening his eyes and looking at Lestrade. "Jennifer Wilson's only daughter." Lestrade responds. "Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?" Sherlock frowns. "Never mind that. We found the case." Anderson starts, pointing at the pink case "According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopaths." he continues. "We're not psychopaths, Anderson. We're a high-functioning sociopaths. Do your research." Sherlock tells Anderson. "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. Sherlock and I need to question her." Enzo tells Lestrade. "She's dead." Lestrade responds. "Excellent! How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be." Sherlock asks. "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 explains. John grimaces sadly and turns away as Sherlock and Enzo look confused. "No, that's ... that's not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?" Sherlock asks.

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup – sociopaths; I'm seeing it now." Anderson remarks. "She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." Enzo retorts with a glare, beginning to pace. "You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he... I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow." John suggests. "Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?" Sherlock asks, pausing when everyone goes quiet "Not good?" he asks John awkwardly. "Bit not good, yeah." John responds. Sherlock shakes it off and steps closer to John, Enzo walking over to join them "Yeah, but if you were dying... if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?" Sherlock asks. "'Please, God, let me live.'" John responds. "Oh, use your imagination!" Sherlock tells him. "I don't have to." John reminds him. Sherlock shifts uncomfortably slightly "Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever. She's trying to tell us something." Sherlock says, beginning to pace back and forth.

Mrs Hudson comes to the door of the living room "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock." she says. "I didn't order a taxi. Go away." Sherlock tells her, continuing to pace. "Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" Mrs Hudson asks. "It's a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson." John responds, watching as Enzo goes and sits on the sofa. "But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers." Mrs Hudson says. Sherlock suddenly stops, his back to the door "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." he shouts. "What? My face is?!" Anderson asks. "Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back." Lestrade tells everyone, knowing that the brothers are getting overwhelmed and overstimulated. "Oh, for God's sake!" Anderson exclaims. "Your back, now, please!" Lestrade tells him sternly. Enzo closes his eyes, trying to block everything out "Come on, think. Quick!" Sherlock mutters to himself. "What about your taxi?" Mrs Hudson asks. "MRS HUDSON!" Sherlock shouts, making her turn and rush downstairs. Enzo opens his eyes as he realises something "Oh. Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!" he smiles. "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." Sherlock tells everyone.

Enzo stands up "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." he tells them, adding to what his brother is saying. "But how?" Lestrade asks. "Wha...? What do you mean, how? Rachel! Don't you see? Rachel! Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being us? It must be so relaxing." Sherlock tells them. "Rachel is not a name." Enzo adds. "Then what is it?" John asks. "John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address." Sherlock says, going over to his laptop. John looks at the label on the suitcase "Er, jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk." he reads out. "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. So there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address and all together now, the password is?" Sherlock says, typing on the laptop. "Rachel." John realises. "So we can read her e-mails. So what?" Anderson asks. :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." Enzo retorts, weakly sitting in the chair next to his brother's. "Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade tells them. "We know he didn't." John responds.