Even Bad Guys Need a Rest

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Emma sat in the cafeteria, looking at her tray of a chicken sandwich, peas, and a cup of tea. She began to eat her peas when Eleanor and a frightened Casey walked over to her table and sat down.

"Hey Emma," Eleanor called out. She grabbed Emma's chicken sandwich and took a bite.

Unfazed, Emma looked at Casey. "You know she's using you, right?" She scoffed as Casey's eyes widened. "You're terrified of me and I'm not even a threat; I'm just smart and mysterious. Eleanor is just using you as a shield in case she gets stabbed." Casey looked at Eleanor, eyes wider than before. Emma continued, "I guess people that have names starting with 'E' are pretty dangerous."

Eleanor looked at Casey, and with biting words told her to "let the big girls speak" and to "leave before anything bad happened." She then turned to Emma. "You know about me, I know about you. You say you need me for something,  that I'm the most valuable player."

"I need you to tell me what happened the night you murdered Sophie."

Eleanor laughed. "I thought you'd know all about that. I saw you steal my file. Next time, try being more discreet."

"What happened in your file isn't what really happened. Yes, you killed Sophie, in one of the worst possible ways, but it wasn't because she stole money from you to buy drugs. You're the one that got James to sell her drugs so she would become addicted--"

Cutting Emma off, "How do you know about James?"

Emma disregarded her. "You wanted to be caught. You were wearing gloves and purposefully threw them in the garbage out back." Emma pulled out Eleanor's file. "It says you attempted to hide them, seeing as garbage day would be the next day, but you knew your neighbour would see you going to the garbage, blood splattered on your face. Why else would you have installed a light over the garbage just a week before if not for your neighbour to see you."

"How do you know about James?"

Emma put Eleanor's file back and took a sip of tea. "You're smart, Eleanor. Smart and mysterious."

"Answer my fucking question." Eleanor put a shiv up to Emma's throat. Emma only stared at her, knowing that Eleanor would not hurt her; she was too curious. Eleanor took the shiv away from Emma's throat and put it in her pocket. In the faintest voice possible, barely loud enough for Emma to hear, she muttered out her last hope. "Please."

"I know about the underground drug scene. Sherlock knows it even better than I do. James was barely a part of it, but you knew he would get the job done. Then he found out why you really wanted him to give Sophie drugs. It wasn't because she was 'already hooked and needed a fix'-- you're a good actor, you know? I would have never believed your innocent facade but James did-- you wanted to get Sophie hooked so that she would be out of it when you went to kill her. James threatened to call the cops, now being an actual accessory to murder, but that night you killed Sophie. The only thing he could do was run and hope that you wouldn't rat him out. He had no evidence against you, so if you had told the police about him helping you he couldn't really deny it."

Emma took another sip of tea. "You wouldn't tell on him, though." She laughed. "You loved him. For some strange, unknown reason, you loved the fact that he was barely part of the drug scene; willing to help you; the fact that he charged you less because he loved you back."

Eleanor looked weak, taken aback from all that Emma had known. "If you know all about him, why don't you just bring him in? Tell the police? They love you, they'll give me extra jail time..." Eleanor spoke more to herself than Emma. Then something clicked. "Except you don't know where he is."

Emma leaned towards her ear and whispered the destination. "Chilbolton. But even you didn't know that."

Eleanor looked bewildered. How had Emma known where James was? It didn't make any sense, but Eleanor had another question stuck on my mind. "Why am I so important? Why do you need James?"

Emma slid her tray towards the other side of the table and looked Eleanor in the eyes. "To beat something, you must be equal to or greater to that thing. James will be our link  to the outside world."

Eleanor looked a bit confused, but understood. She stood up and walked away, looking back before she left the cafeteria. Eleanor was in.

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ST. JAMES PARK

SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN A LOVELY DAY FOR A WALK

BUT EVEN BAD GUYS NEED SOME SCENERY

"John, she's fine." Sherlock smiled as John looked at Rosie, playing along the edge of the pond. "She's not gonna fall in."

John smiled but still kept his gaze on Rosie. "You can never be too sure, Sherlock."

St. James Park, a beautiful park at that, is where the boys of Baker Street decided to spend their  day. John wanted Rosie to see some pelicans, and this park is the place to do it. Both men were still weary from the recent attack at the London Eye, as were most parents and families around them, but the kids still played in the nature as if nothing bad could ever happen. 

After walking along the bridges, seeing different animals, and Sherlock and John reminiscing about old cases, they were to meet Lestrade at the entrance of the park where they would then venture to lunch. That was the plan. 

Before they left, John remembered what he had forgotten. He picked up Rosie. "Time to see the Tiffany Fountain!"

The Tiffany Fountain, if you do not know, is a fountain which shoots water high into the air. Magical, mystical, beautiful. Rosamund would love it. Mary would have, too. John held up Rosie and pointed at the fountain, watching her amazed face. Sherlock stood behind them and took a photo of the two, but while he was taking it, the fountain stopped.

John slightly lowered Rosie, confused. Time seemed to stop and no one knew what to do. People started taking photos. Sherlock got a text from Lestrade, hungry and craving a sandwich. 

Sherlock, who usually knows everything, was puzzled too. The Tiffany Fountain never stops. Not on a beautiful day like this. 

Then, almost as quickly as the fountain had stopped, the spray started up again. With it came a piece of purple fabric, a shirt. Sherlock called Lestrade. It ended up belonging to a dead man who was killed and put into the pond. The water flowing from the majestic fountain was now known to be contaminated with blood, making people uneasy. Everyone was cleared out except for Sherlock, Lestrade, John and his daughter, and some other police officers. The body was put into a bag and sent to St. Bartholomew's for Molly to look at. It had taken a few hours to actually located the body, it being mainly covered and hidden, which only arises more suspicion as to how the shirt could have come off the body and covered the fountain.

Sherlock examined all the passersby and police officers, trying to find who was responsible. No one suspicious was in sight. He got a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Sherlock." It was the voice of an old man. "By now you've found the body, I hope. I'm afraid my time here is done. But before I go, why not one quick fact. You can even tell it to the little one." Sherlock tensed up. "King Henry VIII liked to hunt deer, but St. James park was too small for him to hunt. So he used this park as a breeding ground and Regent's park as the hunting ground. The deer would be moved from St. James's to Regent's, especially at a young age." Sherlock looked at John and Rosie as the old man hung up the phone.

She's not gonna fall in. Sherlock looked at the fountain, the shirt, then back at Rosie. She's not gonna fall in to this life of nameless phone calls and dangerous mysteries; assassins and acronyms. I won't let that happen.


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