The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 35

            “There was a note left for you.” Lestrade lead Sherlock into the flat. Forensic specialists and detectives stood away from the corpse on the stairs, out of the way of the consulting detective.

            Sherlock turned his head to the right. On the green coloured wall, two words were written in white spray paint, a smiley face written in the ‘O’ of the second word, following initials.

            Get Sherlock.

            –M

            Lestrade crossed his arms. “Just like the message left at Crown Jewels three years ago.”

            “Exactly.” Sherlock said, turning back to the body that lay on the stairs.

            “’M’…Moriarty?” The detective inspector questioned.

            “No, Moran.” Sherlock said as he walked up the first three steps, then crouched at the foot of the body.

            “No use calling me names, you arse.” Lestrade rolled his eyes. “I think Moriarty was the logical guess, considering what we saw on the telly.”

            “No,” Sherlock said, turning back to Lestrade “The name is Moran. Sebastian Moran.”

            “The man with the bomb from Westminster Station?”

            “Yes.” Sherlock stood, stepping over the corpse and making his way to the dead woman’s upper body. “Now, the woman was garrotted, as I’m sure you know from the bruises that adorn her neck. I would say quickly, by a strong man. The woman, as you said, hasn’t been here for long…. Blow to the back of the head. It knocked her out before she was strangled.”

            “Anything other than that?” Lestrade asked.

            Sherlock took a moment to look at the corpse, getting down lower, examining her fingers and taking out his magnifying glass to examine bits of her clothing.

            “No.” He said. “This was merely a thrill kill, something to get my attention, I assume. Moran is bored, and he wants some trouble. Moran is bored, and he wants to be chased.”

            “Sorry,” Lestrade asked. “but why exactly would this Sebastian Moran want to get your attention? Wouldn’t he want to get it by doing something more eye catching and gruesome?”

            Sherlock stood and made his way back to the bottom of the stairs. “Moran is Moriarty’s partner. I don’t know why it isn’t gruesome, but my guess would be that this is just a start. They’ll get worse. Maybe, at the moment, he’s just trying to annoy me with how dull this case is. Text me details, when you get them. I’ll need anything you’ve got that can help me track down Moran before things get worse.”

            Sherlock started towards the door and Lestrade called his name, but he ignored him. He just wanted to get back to Molly’s flat.

            “How was it?” Molly asked, handing Sherlock a mug of tea.

            He sipped it, and sighed. “Dull.”

            “I’m sorry.” Molly sat down next to him on her sofa, sipping from her own mug. “And it was Moran, yeah?”

            “Yes.” Sherlock said.

            Molly looked over to him. “Was there anything? Anything that could help you track him.”

            “Nothing.” Sherlock said.

            Molly closed her eyes, and leaned her head against Sherlock’s shoulder. “I don’t know what to say.”  

            “Neither do I.”

            “That’s a starter.” Molly said, grasping his hand with her free one.

            They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sherlock was the one to break the silence.

            “Bored.”

            “Well, turn on the telly, then.” Molly said, bringing the mug to her lips.

            “No, television is dull.”

            Molly sighed and sat up. “You just can’t be entertained, can you?”

            “It appears that I can’t.”

            She laughed, and stood up, taking his now empty mug from him. “What will I do with you?”

            Sherlock remained silent as Molly washed their mugs and returned them to the cupboards. When she returned to the sitting room, she announced that she would be going to bed, and Sherlock said he would come in a bit.

            After about thirty minutes of tossing and turning, Molly felt the other side of the bed dip as Sherlock crawled into bed next to her.

            “Joining me?” She said.

            Sherlock nuzzled his face into her shoulder. “Just as I said I would.”

            Molly turned over. “Are you actually going to sleep?”

            “Probably not.” Sherlock said.

            Molly shook her head. “You need to sleep.”

            “And so do you,” Sherlock said, “Now, close you eyes.”

            “Can you at least try to sleep?” Molly asked.

            Sherlock protested. “I’m on a case.”

            “No,” Molly shook her head, “you aren’t. It was Moran, you know. You won’t know anything else until and if Lestrade tells you, so you aren’t on a case and you need to sleep.”

            Sherlock said nothing.

            “At least try to. Please?”

            “Fine.” Sherlock sighed.

            Molly smiled. “Thank you.” She pressed a short kiss to his lips, and then turned over again. He wrapped his arms around her. After a few minutes, he slowly fell asleep, Molly following shortly after.