A Study In Pink - Lestrade's Daughter

The Fragility Of Genius

Once we stopped off at Scotland Yard for my phone and the rest of my possessions, we finally made our way to Baker Street.

We pulled up outside the door and got out. I stretched my back and legs. That was a long ride.

I followed John up the stairs and into a flat. Sherlock was laying on the couch, sleeves rolled up.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Nicotine patch. Helps me to think." Sherlock showed us his arm. Three patches were placed on his forearm. "Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London. Bad news for brain work."

"Good news for breathing." I replied.

"Oh, breathing. Breathing boring." I raised an eyebrow at him in amusement.

"Is that three patches?"

"Its a three-patch problem." Sherlock rests his hands in a steeple position under his chin and closes his eyes.

"You asked me to come. I assume its important." John huffed.

"Oh yeah. Can I borrow your phone? Dont wanna use mine. Always a chance the number could be recognised. It's on the website."

"We were the other side of London!"

"There was no hurry." John slapped his phone into Sherlock's upturned hand.

"So what's this all about then?" John asked.

"Her suitcase. The murderer took the suitcase. First big mistake."

"So?" Sherlock muttered to himself before holding his phone out to John again.

"On my desk, there is a number. I want you to send a text." John looked angrily at Sherlock, annoyed he came all the way over here for a text.

John glanced outside the window.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Just met a friend of yours." John stated.

Sherlock was confused. "A friend?"

"An enemy." I corrected.

"Oh. Which one?"

"Your arch-enemy. According to him."

"Did he offer money to spy on me?" I nodded. "Did you take it?" I shook my head. "Pity. We could've split the fee. Think next time."

"Who is he?" I asked.

"The most dangerous man you've ever met. And not my problem right now. The number. On the desk."

John picked up a luggage label to see the number.

"Jennifer Wilson. Wait a minute. Hang on. That was the dead woman." Exclaimed John.

"Yes. The text. Type these words exactly. 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens. I must have blacked out. Twenty two Northumberland Street. Please come.' Type and send it quick."

Sherlock gets up and brings out a case, searching through it. I looked for a moment before I realised.

"That's the pink woman's case."

"Yes, obviously." John looked concerned. "Oh I should probably mention. I didn't kill her."

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" I asked.

"Ocassionally." I started thinking. How did he get the case? Sherlock mentioned about how the killer must have driven her to the scene of the murder. He must have realised it was in the car. Threw it out? Started panicking. That was evidence to what the murderer had just done and it was in his car.