SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

secrets

The two friends took a seat in a booth stationed at the very back of the restaurant so that Sherlock could see the entire diner and entrance. The waiter came over and gave them a cordial smile.

“What would the gentlemen care to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Sherlock said, folding his hands together under his chin.

“Might I have red wine this time, Steve?” John asked as he undid his napkin and placed it on his lap.

“Of course, will be right back with your beverages.” The waiter left.

Sherlock placed his phone on the table and turned it on. The last message was still lit on the screen. Tag, you’re it. “What do you think it means?”

“Come on, Sherlock, you know I’m not good at this.”

“Fresh eyes, John, that’s all I need.” He pushed the phone in John’s direction and waited patiently.

John took the phone and stared at the font, the lettering, the spacing, the color, the texture, and the entire message itself. He shook his head, discarding all his assumptions and ideas.

“Don’t think too hard, what comes first to your mind. Say it.” Sherlock clicked his fingers together and struck the index finger at his friend, as if he was leading a grand orchestra.

“Um, this is like the Bermuda Triangle, where everything stands for something. Perhaps we’re looking too small and missing the big picture. I say we go to the place Alana was murdered and back track from there.”

“The police didn’t find anything except the blood,” Sherlock noted.

“You’re wrong, there’s lots of evidence. You told me that everything must have at least ten clues. There’s always something. Hair, clothing, fingerprints, body oil left around, car tracks, weapon mars on the concrete, smoke stains from their cigarettes; that could tell us what brand they smoked. We could get everything there on the spot, not from silly text message that’ll lead us down another road. Sherlock, are you listening to everything I’m saying?”

Sherlock’s closed lips moved into a proud smirk. Chuckling, he replied, “My exact thoughts.”

John leaned back, opening his chest. “No, no, don’t do that to me. You’re impressed with what I said, don’t be a glory hound. Acknowledge that the text distracted you and that I am on the right track.”

“Um….no. But I will say you’re onto something.”

“You are an egotistical—,” John began in a hiss before the waiter returned. “Ah, thank you!”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John’s immediate change of tune. John just gave him an ‘oh well’ shrug and sipped his wine.

“Would you care for anything to eat?”

“We’re so stupid!” Sherlock shouted out loud, frightening the waiter so much that he stumbled backwards and collided into the table behind him.

“Good God, man, what’s wrong?” John asked, skittering to his feet. “I’m so sorry, my friend does this…weird-jumpy-thing.”

“I’ll be back,” the waiter stuttered breathlessly as he slipped out of the scene.

John walked up to Sherlock and held out a hand, almost as if to steady the excited detective. “Sherlock?”

“Did Alana have her phone on her?”

“Yes, but the police have it. They stripped it of evidence.”