Welcome to Baker Street

15. Literal translation

"I know where she is," Sherlock repeats louder. He brings his fingers up to his temples and screws his eyes shut, trying to draw a route on a mental map of London. His eyes snap open as he shouts, "John!"

He rushes down the stairs and lands on the ground floor, crying out again, "John, hurry up. We need to go."

Running along the hall, he almost stumbles against his friend.

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more," John replies and shoots a side glance at the clerk marching to them. He is flanked by two security guards; the welcoming, friendly look has disappeared from his face.

"These people are not who they say they are." He points an accusatory finger at the three of them.

"We showed you our badges: they are authentic," Sherlock rebuts testily.

"They are, actually; they simply don't belong to you. I have just talked with Scotland Yard: the real D.I. Lestrade has just entered his office, right now," the clerk replies.

"Had you contacted The Cabinet Office, they would have confirmed my story," Sherlock grumbles, irritated, knowing that in such an emergency his brother would play along with his inappropriate (and quite illegal) break-in. "Why must everyone always call Scotland Yard?"

"Look at him: he is so disoriented and panicked," Giulia whispers, nodding at the clerk, then she speaks up, addressing him directly, "How long have you been working here?"

He looks bewildered for an instant. "Six months, but I don't see why it should be relevant."

"Oh, it is. Six months, new clothes, a rewarding job," she points out, turning to Sherlock. "Did you really think that he would put everything at risk and take on the responsibility of calling The Cabinet? I wouldn't get in touch with it even if I were the Prime Minister."

Sherlock raises a brow at her observations and for a fleeting moment, an impressed look darts into his eyes.

The clerk yells, vexed, "I'm calling the police."

"No, no, no." Sherlock shakes his head. "I never get in a police car."

He springs forward, and leaps to the doorway, immediately followed by his accomplices. He nimbly leads John and Giulia along streets and alleys, running as fast as possible while they look over their shoulders and prick up their ears. When they are sure that no one from the editorial office is following them, they stop at a corner of a darkened road to catch their breath.

"Christ, I told you: it never works when we sneak into off-limits buildings," John bursts out, gasping for air.

"Sherlock, what exactly do you know?" Giulia asks breathlessly, thinking back to his epiphany inside the editorial office.

"Everything we need is right here." Sherlock flicks the page of the newspaper he took from the newsroom. He walks in the middle of the street, looking in both directions for a cab.

"A crossword puzzle? This is not the time for games," John complains.

"This isn't a game, John. This is her hiding place. Her life is at stake."

Both John and Giulia look at him with blank expressions. He glances at their vacant faces and specifies, "The author of the puzzle," as if it was a thorough explanation.

"The French girl?" Giulia asks, confused.

"She is not French. That's the point," the detective replies, waving his hand at an approaching taxi.

"I surrender," John exclaims, raising his hands.

"This crossword puzzle was created by Miss Jumelle Survécue, a woman with an impressive knowledge of firearms and weapons. It would seem perfectly normal, except that this person doesn't exist. This name was completely invented." Sherlock struggles to keep his friends at the same pace as his lightning brain.

"Is it just a coincidence that it looks like a French word, then?" Giulia inquires.

"Coincidences are fairy tales we tell ourselves when we don't want to see inevitable connections around us. These are indeed French words. It's not a name, though, but a translation," he explains, opening the taxi door. "Jumelle Survécue in English means Surviving Twin."

***

Author's note: Dear readers, 

The chapters will get increasingly longer, but when I originally started writing this story, I was still experimenting with my writing style, so I hope you don't mind these frequent interruptions. 

By the way, I would love to have your thoughts on the development of this story so far.