How to Play a Game Called Murder

Chapter 13: ...And People to See

After a short cab ride, John found himself staring down a large black door with a brass knocker in an extremely exclusive neighborhood. Sherlock pounded on the door again and after a moment, a plump little woman opened.

"Yes, may I help you?"

Sherlock turned on his most charming smile and replied, "Yes, we have an appointment with Mrs. Audrey Miller."

The door opened wider and the woman smiled at them. "Please come in. She's been expecting you."

The pair entered and the housekeeper motioned to a couple of chairs in the adjoining sitting room.

"Please, have seat. I'll just tell her you're here."

John waited until she exited and turned to Sherlock, asking in a low voice, "Will you tell me what we are doing here now? Who is this woman we are meeting?" Sherlock was about to reply when a stunningly beautiful woman glided into the room.

She was tall and slender, with dark hair and brown eyes which Sherlock noticed were red and puffy from crying though makeup had been carefully applied to cover that fact. John, ever the gentleman, snapped to attention and stood as soon as she entered. He was surprised to see Sherlock do the same.

"Mrs. Miller, so good of you to see us on such short notice." Sherlock smiled winningly as he took her hand. "May I introduce my partner? Doctor John Watson. John, this is Mrs. Audrey Miller. Wife of Jackson Miller, parliament member."

John's eyes widened as he put two and two together then shook hands with the woman and she motioned for them to sit, which they did.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers while giving her an analytical look. "You are aware of your husband's dalliances, are you not?"

Audrey stiffened and gave Sherlock a cold glare. "That is none of your concern, Mr. Holmes."

"Actually, it is my concern. Your husband's lover was found murdered yesterday on the banks of the Thames."

The woman's face paled and her mouth fell open in true disbelief, which Sherlock took note of. "What?! Are you sure?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John smother an amused grin as he replied a bit cheekily, "It's hard to fake a dead body, Mrs. Miller." John coughed to hide his snort. Oh the irony.

She nodded mutely, obviously still processing the information. "Well, uhm, why come to me?"

"Spouse would usually be the first suspect in a case like this," Sherlock stated, eliciting a strangled gasp from the woman, "luckily for you, I know you didn't do it." She stared at him wide eyed and he rolled his eyes.

"You have been petitioning your husband for a divorce for over a year now. Why would you be jealous enough to kill his lover if you don't want to be with him yourself?"

She gasped again. "How did you know that? No one knows. Jackson is terrified it would ruin his career if we were to separate."

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "I won't try to explain to you, let it suffice to say that I know and move on. Your husband won't give you a divorce even though neither of you really wishes to stay married. Obviously, he is worried of the effect the news of his separation will have on his career. Also, having observed your husband, he appears to have genuinely cared for his dead lover, therefore, he wouldn't have killed her, even to keep news of his exploits out of the press. Now, what I really want to know is this; where does your lover come into play in all of this?"

Audrey's eyes went as round as saucers and tears welled up. John sat looking back and forth between Sherlock and Mrs. Miller helplessly and with a bit of confusion, not having had the whole story ahead of time.

Sherlock watched the woman's face as it crumpled a bit and he raised a brow. "Stormy waters threatening to sink the ship?"

Oh that's a good one, I'll have to remember that to tell Molly. She thinks I'm awful with metaphors... Focus, Holmes!

She nodded, her lip quivering. "I haven't heard from him in five days. We've never gone this long without speaking before."

Sherlock and John exchanged a knowing glance. Molly had given them an estimate of how long from the time of injection to the time of death was. She guessed anywhere from four to six days, landing the disappearance of Mrs. Miller's lover directly in that time span.

What do we say about coincidences? Sherlock heard Mycroft's voice echoing through his head. The universe is rarely so lazy.

"Is there a reason he hasn't contacted you?" She shook her head.

"I don't know. He... he was always telling me I should be more forceful with Jackson about our divorce but I couldn't do it. Understand, Jackson and I get along very well. He's probably my best friend. But I don't love him and I know he doesn't love me so I thought we'd be better off apart. He's got his career to think of though and I would hate to ruin things for him so I just sort of let it drop. But Seb, he was always asking if I had done anything more about it. He really wanted me to be his." Her voice caught at the end and John worried she would start to cry.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in contemplation, then stood, with John and Audrey following suit. "If he contacts you, let me know." He handed her a card and promptly strode out of the room and through the front door to the street.

----------------------------------------------

"Something about this isn't right, John. I'm missing something. Why would he disappear? Granted, he didn't accomplish his ultimate goal but there was no need to run off. No one would suspect him of murdering the woman who his lover's husband is cheating on her with." John just shrugged and let Sherlock talk to himself.

A key turned in the downstairs door and Molly came trudging up to 221B. Sherlock's mouth quirked up as he took in the sight of her in the new coat he had given her.

She looks exhausted, must have been several postmortems to complete today.

"Hi boys." She dropped her bag to the floor, shrugged out of her coat and scarf, and toed off her black boots.

"Hey Molly." John gave her a warm smile and hug. "Tea?" She shook her head, smiling.

Sherlock frowned and rolled over but warmed a little when Molly pressed a small kiss to his forehead. "Hello Molly." He tried not to look so pleased with John still hanging about.

"So, how goes the case?" Molly questioned as she went to the refrigerator, gathering up a can of coke and some snacks, intending to take a hot bath.

"I've hit a roadblock." Sherlock moaned in frustration. "The lover has disappeared and I can't see a reason why."

John started to explain the situation to the pathologist, but Molly cut him off.

"Oh, he's been sending me text updates all day." Molly blushed prettily, giving the impression that updates weren't the only thing Sherlock had sent her.

John was the picture of surprise. "Oh, ok then."

Molly stopped by the couch on her way upstairs and pursed her lips pensively while staring at the pictures on the wall. "Maybe he knew you would figure out it was him and he bolted."

"How could he possibly know I would...?" Sherlock sat bolt upright. "Of course!! The consulting criminal! Fix my problem, Jim. Give me something to get rid of my lover's husband, Jim."

Molly's eyes had gone wide with understanding and John had sucked in a deep breath and tucked his hands in his pockets to hide the shake that began every time he thought about Moriarty.

Sherlock opened his laptop and logged onto his website, quickly typing a message.

THE WIFE'S LOVER, BY THE THAMES, WITH AN INJECTION OF LIVE AND VIRULENT PNEUMOCOCCI

There was a ping from his phone and he picked it up, reading aloud.

"Well done, my lovelies. Talk to you soon."