It Could be You

Chapter 9

Sherlock entered the main sitting room to find a chaotic scene. Carter and David were slinging bags of gear over their shoulders and bumping into each other as they barreled out the door.

Trisha and John stood out of the way in the kitchen watching the furious scurry of the two firefighters. When they left, there was thunderous silence for a moment.

"That happen often?" John asked with a chuckle.

"Yep," Trisha said. She still had a dart in her hand and absently twirled it in her fingers. John looked at her slack-jawed face and gently plucked it out of her hand. Trisha's happy high seemed to be wearing off, and she had grown languid and slow.

"I think we're done with these," John said and laid the dart with the rest. "You seem very tired."

Trisha moved over to the sofa and sank onto it. "They'll be at it all night," she said with a heavy sigh. "Dave said it was a quite a rager. They've called in at least two other departments."

"Trisha," John said moving to stand over her. He had his concerned doctor face on as he stood over her. "You okay?"

"John, I think I should tell you I observed that she seemed under the influence of something earlier," Sherlock said. He had the idea he might have spoken up sooner had his attention not been on other things.

"What did you take?" John asked.

"Nothing, Dr. John," she said rolling her eyes at him. I just had a couple of beers..." she said slurring her words as she drifted off.

John gently slapped her face, "Trisha, you need to tell me."

"I didn't take anything," she said sounded put out now.

Sherlock picked up an empty beer bottle she'd been drinking from and took a sniff. Without testing the contents, I can't be sure, but this one has some powdery residue in the bottom. I noticed earlier that she'd been displaying signs of some narcotic. Do you think she needs to go to A&E?"

"How many beers did you have, Trisha?" John asked raising his voice slightly.

She opened her eyes, and her head seemed to clear a bit. "Just two. I'll be fine. Just let me sleep," she said waving John away and curling over on her side.

"This doesn't seem right," John said. "She seems convinced she hasn't taken anything."

"We can stay a bit to make sure," Sherlock suggested.

"Yeah," John said. "Let's lay her out on the sofa."

As the two of them got her comfortably arranged, she opened her eyes and began to speak.

"Cart's new cutie," she said looking up at Sherlock, who stood next to John. "He's been after you a long time, Mr. Detective."

"What do you mean a long time? We only met a few days ago," Sherlock said crouching down to be at eye level with her.

"He's got a book," Trisha said smiling up through half-lidded eyes. "Up there," she said pointing to the top of a bookshelf near the window. "He hides it up there, but I've seen it. It's a souvenir from him."

Did the "him" she was referring to mean Carter's old boyfriend, Frank? Sherlock rose and went to the bookshelf. He reached up and pulled down what appeared to be an old-fashioned scrapbook. No dust. He turned it over in his hands and carefully looked at the cover. Made from expensive materials, it felt heavy in his hands.