Sentiment {Sherlock BBC}

65. "Swift Kick."

Sherlock, John, Culverton and I stood in an elevator as Culverton spoke,

"Speaking of serial killers, you know who's my favorite?" he asked. Sherlock squeezed my hand as the elevator "ping-ed" and the doors slid open.

"Other than yourself?" Sherlock asked.

"H. H. Holmes." He said as we walked down a blue colored hall.

"Relative of yours?" Culverton asked.

"Not as far as I know." Sherlock answered.

"You should check. What an idiot." Culverton said as we walked into Culverton's favorite room... the morgue.

"Everyone out." Culverton demanded. He exchanged a few words with one of the doctors and the room cleared.

"How can you do that? I mean, how-how are you even allowed in here?" John asked.

"Oh, I-I can go anywhere I like." Culverton said taking a ring of keys out of his pocket. "Anywhere at all." He said.

"They gave you keys?" John asked, surprised.

"They presented 'em to me. There was a ceremony. You can watch that on YouTube. Home Secretary was there." He said as Sherlock walked around looking into cabinets.

"So, your favorites room: the mortuary." Sherlock said.

"What d'you think?" Culverton asked him.

"Tough crowd."

"Oh, I don't know." Culverton said pulling back the sheet on the most current body lying on the slab. "No, I've always found 'em quite pliable." Culverton said pulling the jaw down of the body.

"Oh god," I whispered looking away.

"Don't do that." John said.

"She's fine. She's dead." Culverton said. "H. H. Holmes loved the dead. He mass-produced 'em."

"Serial killer, active during the Chicago Fair." Sherlock said.

"D'you know what he did? He built a hotel, a special hotel, just to kill people. You know, with a hanging room, gas chamber, specially adapted furnace. You know, like Sweeney Todd... without the pies!" Culverton giggled. "Stupid. So stupid." He said. John quickly grabbed the sheet and pulled it over the woman. I mouthed a thank you to John and he wrapped his arm around me.

"Why stupid?" John asked.

"Well, all that effort. You don't build a beach if you want to hide a pebble; you just find a beach! And if you wanna hide a murder, or wanna hide lots and lots of murders, just find a... hospital." John shook his head in disbelief.

"Can we be clear? Are you confessing?" John asked.

"To what?" Culverton asked.

"The way you're talking..." John began.

"Oh, sorry. Yes. You mean, am I a serial killer, or am I just trying to mess with your funny little head? Well, it's true. I do like to mess with people... and yes, I am a bit creepy, but that's just my U.S.P." Culverton said walking over to me. He put his hand on my arm and I clutched onto John tighter. "I use it to sell breakfast cereal. But am I what he says I am? Is that what you're asking?" Culverton asked turning to Sherlock, removing his hand from my arm.

"Yes." John responded.

"Hm. Well, let me ask you this. Are you really a doctor?"

"Yeah, of course I am."

"Well, no, a medical doctor, you know. Not just feet, or media studies or something." Culverton said.

"I'm a doctor."