Soufflés, Skype and Sherlock Holmes

Questions and Answers

Clara watched Sherlock test the blood found in Mr Monkford's car with mild fascination. She watched his long face which was in deep concentration with her head cocked to the side. He was such a strange man, yet both a punishment and a joy to hang around. His long pale face was brightened in the white light of St Barts and made his cheekbones look sharper than usual. His dark curling locks were in a tangled mess that made Clara want to run her hand - DING!

The pink phone rang loudly, which shocked Clara out of her daydream. She jumped and tried not to blush. 'Hello?' Sherlock asked, picking the phone. up. Clara tried to listen intently but she couldn't pick up what the voice on the other end of the line was saying. Sherlock didn't display any emotion. 'Why would you be giving me a clue?' He finally uttered. He listened patiently and flicked his eyes to Clara. 'Then talk to me in your own voice' he replied softly into the phone, still looking at her. The line went dead and Sherlock placed the phone carefully onto the bench. He looked intently at the dish in front of him than began to smile. Clara looked at him, both happy and confused. He was definitely onto something. Sherlock winked at her before grabbing his coat. 'Coming, soufflé girl?' he grinned.

Clara shook her head at him with a wide smile on her face. 'Only if you don't grin like that, Mr cheekbones!' She laughed and followed him out. 'Are you going to tell me what you have figured out?'

'Patience Clara' he whispered. 'We need to pick up John first.'

Clara crossed her arms and looked at London passing by through the window. She hummed tunes out of the Wizard of Oz to pass the time. She liked how he had said 'we' instead of his usual selfish pronouns. John was waiting outside Speedy's cafe looking miserable in the cold London drizzle. He started muttering about Mrs Hudson making him nail "a million" holes in the wall for her "bloody paintings". Once he had stopped grumbling, Sherlock told them where they were going - the police car pound, back to Mr Monkford's car. Clara breathed out a sigh. She obviously thought they were going somewhere exciting. Clearly Sherlock was the only excited one. His long fingers were tapping lightning fast across his knee in anticipation.

They reached the compound and met Lestrade inside. They came into a room surrounded by plastic white sheets with the silver vehicle in the middle. All the doors were open, making it look like an insect ready to fly. Lestrade greeted them politely and started chatting happily with Clara about the weather. Sherlock cleared his throat and Lestrade went back into police mode. 'No foreign prints found, nothing out of the ordinary' he shrugged nodding to the car. 'Except the blood, I suppose.'

Sherlock inspected the car with false concern. Clara rolled her eyes and folded her arms. 'Alright yoda, spit it out' she ordered him.

'How much blood would you say is on that seat?' Sherlock asked, rounding on Lestrade.

Lestrade shook his head. 'How much? A pint?' He offered.

'Not "about". Exactly a pint.' The detective corrected. 'That was their first mistake. The blood is definitely Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen.'

'Frozen?'

'There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave some of his blood some time ago, and that's what they spread on the seat.'

'Clear signs my left foot,' Clara muttered quietly, too low for anyone to hear. Her tone was dripping in sarcasm. She did admire his deducting skills, even if they were awfully annoying.

'Who did?' John asked, looking quizzically at the car.

'Janus cars. The clues in the name' Sherlock replied smugly.

'The God with two faces!' John exclaimed. Realisation made his eyebrows jump up and his mouth turn into an "O".

'Exactly'. Sherlock looked round to Lestrade, not before catching Clara's eye. She grinned and shrugged in a well-done fashion. Sherlock then peered into the car. 'They provided a very special service. If you've got any kind of problem - bad marriage, money troubles, whatever - Janus cars will help you disappear. Ian Monkford was up to his eyes on some sort of trouble - financial I guess, because he was a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, with the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the drivers seat...' He told the inspector and finished with slamming the car door.

'So...where is he now?' Clara asked.

'Columbia'

'Columbia?!'

'Mr Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Colombian peso note in his wallet,' Sherlock explained. 'Quite a bit of change too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I distracted himI could see his tan line clearly. No one wears a shirt on a sun bed that, plus his arm.'

'His arm?' John asked, now seemingly his turn to ask a question.

'Kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. Why? Because he recently had a booster jab. Hep-B probably, difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Columbia. Mrs Monkford cashes in on the life insurance and splits it with Janus cars' Sherlock explained, hardly pausing for breath.

'M-Mrs Monkford?' John stuttered.

'Oh yes , she's in it too.' Lestrade lowered his head with a look of amazement on his face. Clara couldn't stop staring at Sherlock, her big brown eyes in awe. 'Now go and arrest them inspector, it's what you do best' Sherlock said, as every one seemed to be at loss for words. He turned and led John and Clara away, leaving Lestrade still reeling over the information. 'We need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved' he muttered to them. Clara couldn't even whisper the word 'fantastic' as a cat had her tongue. Sherlock didn't need her to say anything, he clenched his fists and shouted: 'I am on fire!'

Clara was snapped out of her daze and slapped his arm. 'People with bombs strapped to their chests remember?'

'Yes, brilliant isn't it?!' Sherlock replied happily with shards of madness in his eyes. To John's surprise he reached over and ruffed Clara's hair with a maniac laugh. She squeaked and pulled away, trying to flatten her brown locks. 'I am brilliant aren't I?' He gloated to himself.

'I'll be the judge of that' she muttered with a grin. She could almost hear him chanting: I came, I saw, conquered, I am the man, etcetera, etcetera. Ugh, men.