Everybody Leaves

Chapter 23

Chapter 23: Truth

"Dare."

John gave him a calculating look. "I dare you, to... scream."

Sherlock sat back and stared at him. "Scream."

"Yeah, scream. It's like the number one 'don't do' rule in a library."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Scream."

John sighed. "Come on. Just do it."

The young genius rolled his eyes before letting out a brief yelp.

What the bloody hell is he doing? He's supposed to be figuring out this case, not making googley eyes at some idiot.

Oh, but what an idiot.

He glances up at him to see the blond holding his hand to his mouth, trying to stop from giggling.

He quirks a smile. What an idiot, indeed.

Oh, God, he's doing it again! Snap out of it, focus on this, as soon as he does, John will be gone for good.

He ignores the squeezing feeling in his stomach and thinks.

What could be a motive for killing people with dead father?

John stops giggling. "Alright, alright, my turn."

They could have a dead father?

"Truth or dare?"

They could be a dead father?

"Dare."

Wait, no, that makes no sense.

"I dare you to steal something."

Does it?

"Steal?" Sounds flabbergasted.

No, it doesn't. Person is likely male, and probably quite large in size, although not fat, more in built and most likely height to drag all those bodies around.

"That is what I said."

Okay, not going to find motive anytime soon, think, think.

Had access to ambulance. Stole it? Possibly.

"I.. I can't." Nervous.

Had the time to stalk and kill people, but not just any killing, a series of them that took careful precision and though, indicating that he doesn't have a very busy schedual.

"I'm not saying anything big, no hot-wiring a car or mugging an old lady, just take something. A book for gods sake."

Age should be about mid twenties to late forties.

"Okay... Okay." John stands and leaves the table.

The killer knew that Balts knew something. How did he know?

John plops back down in his seat. His face looks guilty. In his left hand is a pencil.

Sherlock looks from John to the pencil and back to John. Three and a half seconds later, they are both laughing.

They are vaguely aware of the look the librarian is sending their way, and