A STUDY IN PINK Prologue John Watson was having another nightmare. It was always the same — he was back in Afghanistan with the sounds of war all around him — guns firing, bombs exploding and army officers shouting orders to their men. As usual, the nightmare reminded him of the confusion of war and the terrible feeling that any moment might be his last. John woke up, breathing hard, and stared into the darkness of his small flat. His mind took several long seconds to realise that he was no longer in Afghanistan — his days in the army were over now. John was unable to sleep for the rest of that night. When the grey light of day finally appeared beyond his curtains, he sat down in front of his laptop. Ella, his therapist, had suggested that he should keep a daily blog. She had said that it would help him to ‘move on with his life’. ee now at the laptop screen. Underneath . e at the top ~ Dr John Watson - the screen as empty. John stared at it and wondered what hecould write. What words could give even the smallest idea of how he was feeling? * OK OK Later that morning John sat down opposite Ella for his weekly meeting. Since he had returned from the army, he had walked with a limp. Now he carried a walking stick at all times. Putting his walking stick down beside him, he stretched out his legs and gave Ella an unsmiling look. He knew exactly what she was going to ask about. ‘How’s your blog going?’ ‘It’s good,’ he answered immediately. ‘Very good.’ Ella wrote a few words in her notebook and then looked up at him. ‘You haven’t written a word in it, have you?’ John pointed at the therapist’s notebook. “You've just written that I “still have problems trusting people”,’ he said. ‘And you've just read my writing upside down,’ replied Ella. ‘Do you see what I mean? Problems trusting people ...’ She continued to look straight at him. ‘John, you were in a war,’ she said gently. ‘It’s going to take a while to get used to life out of the army. Writing a blog about everything that happens to you will really help.’ John shook his head. ‘Nothing happens to me,’ he said flatly.CHAPTER 1 The first meeting press was not Detective Inspector Lestrade’s of being a police officer, but it was a of the job. And ona day like this, when Beth Davenport, had been found Talking to the favourite part necessary part the body of a politician, f dead, the press were hungry for information. Lestrade was sitting at a long table at the front of the room, with one of his officers, Sergeant Donovan. She was explaining the facts about the politician’s death to the lew Scotland Yard’s press room. waiting reporters in Ni ‘Apparently the death was suicide,’ she said. ‘Certain elements were similar to the recent suicides of Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillmore. Because of this, we believe that there may be a connection between the three deaths.’ Donovan’s voice was flat - she was just giving the information as plainly as possible. But the reporters all knew that something unusual was happening here. One of them raised his hand. ‘Detective Inspector eLestrade, how can there be a connection between three suicides?’ ‘Well, they all took the same poison,’ began Lestrade carefully. ‘They were all found in places where they had no reason to be. None of them had been acting strangely before their deaths ...’ ‘So what is the connection between them?’ asked another reporter. Lestrade moved uncomfortably in his chair. This was a difficult question to answer. ‘We don’t know yet, but there has to be one.’ Suddenly the room was filled with electronic sounds as every mobile phone there received a text message. The reporters all looked down to see the same message on their phones, just one word: WRONG! Sergeant Donovan received the same message on her phone. She looked up at all the reporters. ‘If you’ve all got text messages, just ignore them,’ she said crossly. The reporters had more questions to ask. ‘If the deaths are suicides, what are you investigating?’ ‘As I said, there’s clearly some connection between these suicides. It’s an unusual situation and we’ve got our best people working on the case ...” Again, the room filled with the sounds of text messages arriving. Again it was just a one-word message: WRONG! A female reporter had her hand in the air now. ‘Is there any chance that these deaths are murders?’ she asked. Lestrade took a deep breath. ‘I know that you all like writing about killers,’ he said carefully. ‘But these do appear to be suicides. We do know the difference.’ ‘But if they are murders,’ continued the woman reporter, oeeople keep themselves eae ; his words carefully. ‘Obviously this is ’ he began. ‘But people just have to i“ eason to feel unsafe.’ “how do p' Lestrade chose a frightening time, sensible. We have no ¥ ; For the third time, every phone in the room received the same message: WRONG! ‘No more questions, thank you,’ Donovan told the reporters quickly, standing up. As he joined her, Lestrade received another text message. This one went to his phone only. YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME. SH * KOK As Lestrade and Donovan walked back to their offices, Donovan spoke angrily to her boss. “You've got to stop him doing that. He’s making us look stupid.’ ‘If you can tell me how he does it, I’ll stop him,’ he told Donovan. It was a sunny day, but John Watson had no interest in enjoying the weather. He was on his way home, walking slowly across one of London’s many parks, when he passed a man on a park seat. ‘John!’ The man jumped up. ‘John Watson!’ John turned to see a large man smiling at him in surprised recognition. ‘It’s me — Mike Stamford)!’ said the man. ‘We studied at St Barts Hospital together.’ At last John smiled back and offered his hand. ‘Yes, sorry. Mike, hello.’‘I heard that you were abroad, in the army,’ said Mike. ‘What happened?’ John just pointed down to his bad leg and walking stick. ‘I was shot.’ He didn’t really want to discuss the past with an old friend, but Mike wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ten minutes later, they were both sitting on the park seat drinking coffee from plastic cups. Mike spoke a little about his work teaching new doctors. Then he asked John. ‘So, are you staying in town?’ John gave a little shake of the head. ‘I can’t afford to stay in London on the money I get from the army.’ Mike nodded. ‘And you could never live anywhere else,’ he said. ‘That’s not the John Watson I know.’ ‘I'm not the John Watson you know,’ John answered. ‘Why don’t you share a flat with someone?’ suggested Mike. John smiled. ‘Come on,’ he told his old friend. ‘Who'd want to share a flat with me?’ Mike laughed in surprise. “You're the second person to say that to me today,’ he said. ‘Really?’ said John, ‘Who was the first?’ * KK ®It felt strange to be back in the old hospital where John, had studied years earlier. ‘It looks a bit different from m day,’ he was saying as Mike led him into his lab. ; As they entered, a tall man with sharp, blue eyes and wavy dark hair turned from the work at his desk to look at them. ‘Mike, can I borrow your phone? I need to send a text message.” Mike’s hand went to his jacket pocket. ‘Sorry, I haven’t got it with me. It’s in my coat.” John stepped forwards, phone in hand. ‘Here, you can use my phone,’ he said. ’Thank you.’ As the tall man took the phone, his stare seemed to go right through John, examining his face, clothes, walking stick ..- everything about him. ‘Afghanistan or Iraq?’ he asked. ‘Sorry?’ said John. The tall man pointed at John’s leg. ‘Where did it happen, in Afghanistan or Traq?’ ‘Afghanistan,’ said John in surprise. ‘Sorry, how did you know?’ The man gave no answer. After finishing with the phone, he went back to his work. A few moments later he gave John a quick look. “How do you feel about the violin?’ John was confused. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I play the violin when I'm thinking,’ said the tall man, ‘and sometimes I don’t talk for days. Would that bea problem? People should know all about each other if theyre going to share a flat. There’s a nice little place in hs centre of London. Together we should be able to atfo it. John felt as if he had missed half of this conversation. He looked at Mike. ‘You told him about me?’ John asked. @®‘Not a word.’ ‘Then who said anything about sharing a flat?’ The man was putting on a long coat. ‘I did,’ he said. ‘I told Mike earlier today that I must be a difficult person to share a flat with. A few hours later, he’s here with an old friend who was with the army. It’s obvious. You must be looking for somewhere to live, if you've just come back from Afghanistan.’ “How did you know about that?’ asked John. ‘We don’t know a thing about each other.’ The tall man didn’t take his eyes off John. ‘I know that you’re an army doctor and that you’re home after being hurt in Afghanistan. I know that you've got an older brother who’s divorced — he’s worried about you but you don’t want to ask him for help. I know that your therapist thinks that your limp isn’t a physical problem, but is all in your mind. And I know that he or she is correct.’ He stopped at the lab door and looked back. ‘My name is Sherlock Holmes,’ he said. ‘The address of the flat is 221B Baker Street — meet me there tomorrow at seven. Good afternoon.” With those words, Sherlock left. ©CHAPTER 2 ‘The game is on!’ The next day John arrived on foot at the flat on Baker Street at seven o'clock exactly. He had just knocked on the front door when a black taxi stopped at the side of the street and Sherlock Holmes jumped out. ‘Hello,’ he said, not seeming surprised to see that John had come. John turned. ‘Mr Holmes.’ ‘Call me Sherlock, please.” John looked up at the front of the building. ‘This is in a nice part of the city,’ he said. ‘It must be expensive.’ ‘The owner, Mrs Hudson, is giving me a special price on the rent,’ explained Sherlock. ‘A few years ago her husband was caught by the police in Florida. The courts wanted him to pay the maximum price — death. I was able to help.’ ‘So ... you saved her husband?’ asked John. Sherlock gave a little smile. ‘Oh no. I made sure that he paid the full price.’ Before John could say anything to that, the door opened and a woman in her late fifties appeared. She smiled at Sherlock. ‘Sherlock!’ she said warmly. This was Mrs Hudson. To John she seemed like a nice, friendly lady. Sherlock introduced John and both men followed Mrs Hudson inside. While Sherlock ran up the stairs, it took John more time because of his bad leg. When he reached the first floor, Sherlock had already opened the door to the flat. John went in and looked around. The rooms were big with high ceilings — not cheap in this part of London. There was just one problem: the place was messy. It ® SOwasn’t dirty, just untidy. There were books and papers and photos everywhere. The kitchen table was covered with science equipment of some kind. There were several boxes full of more papers and books on the floor. “Well, this could be nice,’ said John, nodding his head. ‘Very nice indeed.’ ‘It just has to be tidied up,’ he thought to himself. All this rubbish lying around ... ’ ‘Yes,’ agreed Sherlock. ‘I thought so, too. So I moved my things in and ...” John looked quickly at Sherlock. So ‘all this rubbish’ was Sherlock’s stuff! Quickly Sherlock began to move things around, picking ©up a few papers and moving them to a different pile, ‘Of course, I can tidy up,’ he began. ‘Well, a bit.” Mrs Hudson appeared at the flat door. ‘What do you think then, Dr Watson?’ John wasn’t sure. He was still getting used to the sudden change in direction that his life had taken. Was he really going to share a flat with this strange man who he had only just met? Mrs Hudson had noticed the kitchen. ‘Oh Sherlock, look at the mess you’ve made!” She hurried into the kitchen and began to tidy up. John sat down in one of the big chairs in the living room. ‘read about you on the Internet last night,’ he told Sherlock. “Anything interesting” “I found your website — The Science of Detective Work.” ‘What did you think?’ asked Sherlock. “You said that you could identify a computer programmer by his tie, and an airline pilot by his left thumb.’ It was clear from his voice that he didn’t believe Sherlock. Yes,’ said Sherlock. ‘And I knew about your army life by looking at your face and limp, and about your brother from your mobile phone.’ John had been wondering about this ever since his first meeting with Sherlock. ‘How?’ But before Sherlock answered, Mrs Hudson came back into the living room with a newspaper from the kitchen table. ‘What about these suicides, Sherlock?’ she asked, shaking her head at the news on the front page of Beth Davenport's death. ‘Three of them, exactly the same" Sherlock was standing at the window. A police car with flashing lights had just stopped on the street outside. ®Sherlock recognised the man who got out of it - Detective Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard. ‘Four,’ he said simply. ‘There’s been a fourth suicide, and there’s something different this time.’ Moments later Lestrade was in the flat. Sherlock didn’t waste time. He just said one word to Lestrade. ‘Where?’ ‘Brixton,’ said Lestrade, ‘Lauriston Gardens.’ ‘What's new about this one?’ Sherlock asked the policeman. ‘You wouldn’t come to get me if there wasn’t something new ...’ @Lestrade gave Sherlock a hopeful look. ‘You know how these suicides never leave notes? Well, this one did. Wil] you come?’ Sherlock’s mind worked fast as it took in this new information. ‘Who’s doing the science work at the crime scene?” “Anderson.” Sherlock looked annoyed. ‘Anderson doesn’t work well with me.” Lestrade didn’t want to take no for an answer. ‘Well, he won't be your assistant.’ “But I need an assistant,’ said Sherlock. He thought for a moment. ‘OK, I’ll come, but not in a police car. I'll be right behind it.’ ‘Thank you,’ said Lestrade. When the policeman left, a smile flashed across Sherlock’s face. ‘Brilliant!’ he said, jumping into the air. His eyes shone with excitement. ‘Yes! Four suicides and now a note! It’s like Christmas!’ He started towards the door, with his coat in his hand. ‘John, make yourself at home - have a cup of tea. Mrs Hudson, I'll be late — 1 might need some food when I get back.’ ‘I’m your landlady, dear, explained Mrs Hudson. ‘It’s not my job to get you dinner ...’ But Sherlock had already left the room. ‘Just look at him running around,’ said Mrs Hudson, turning to John. ‘Ican see that you're the sort who prefers sitting down. You rest your leg and I'll make you that cup of tea.’ As she started towards the flat’s little kitchen, John suddenly hit the arms of his chair in anger. ‘This STUPID leg’ he shouted. Noticing the look of surprise on Mrs Hudson’s face, he added quickly, ‘I’m so sorry. It’s just that sometimes this leg is so annoying. A cup of tea would ®be lovely, thank you ... .’ ‘Just this once, dear,’ said Mrs Hudson calmly, returning to the kitchen. ‘As I said, I’m the landlady - it isn’t my job to make you tea.’ John turned his attention to the newspaper and the story of the suicides. “You're a doctor, right?’ said a voice from the door. Sherlock was back. His brilliant blue eyes did not move from John’s face. “Yes.’ John stood carefully, using his walking stick to help. ‘Are you any good?’ continued Sherlock. ‘Very good.’ ‘Seen a lot of deaths?’ “Yes.’ ‘And quite a bit of trouble?’ ‘More than enough trouble for one life,’ answered John. ‘Want to see some more?’ John gave a sudden, unexpected smile. ‘Yes!’ he said quickly. When Mrs Hudson came out with the tea, both John and Sherlock were leaving the flat. ‘Sorry, Mrs Hudson,’ John said. ‘No time for the tea. We're going out.’ Sherlock smiled widely at his landlady. ‘Four impossible suicides! There's no point in sitting at home when there’s finally something fun going on!’ Mrs Hudson shook her head. ‘Look how happy you are, Sherlock ... It isn’t right to be so happy when people have died.’ ‘Who cares about what is right, Mrs Hudson?’ said Sherlock excitedly. ‘The game is on!’ * eK ®A few minutes later John and Sherlock were sitting in the back of a black London taxi on their way to Brixton. It was dark now and Sherlock looked out at the brightly-lit shop windows and streetlights of London. He knew that John was watching him carefully. ‘OK, you've got questions?’ Sherlock said. ‘Yeah, where are we going?’ asked John. ‘Crime scene. Next?’ ‘Who are you?’ asked John. ‘What do you do? I'd say that you're a private detective ...’ ‘But?’ ‘But the police don’t go to private detectives.’ ‘I'ma different kind of detective,’ said Sherlock, obviously proud of this fact. ‘The only one of my kind in the world, actually - I invented the job. The police do come to me for help, when they don’t know what to do in a case.’ John shook his head. ‘The police don’t ask for help from people who aren’t professionals,’ he said. Sherlock turned to face him. ‘When I met you yesterday and I said, “Afghanistan or Iraq?” you looked surprised.” ®‘Yes.’ John nodded. ‘How did you know?” ‘I didn’t know, I saw.’ Sherlock spoke quickly. ‘Your haircut and the way that you stand show that you're an army man. I heard the end of your conversation with Mike, so I knew that you trained together at the hospital ... clearly then you were an army doctor. You have a suntan on your face but not above the wrists - you’ve been abroad but not on holiday. You have a bad leg because you were injured in action. However, your limp is only bad when you walk, but you don’t ask for a chair when you’re standing. It’s as if you’ve forgotten about it. That suggests that the problem, or part of it, is in your mind. That’s why I said that you have a therapist.’ Sherlock paused. ‘And then there’s your brother ... you haven’t got the money for an expensive phone like that, so it must have been a gift. But there are scratches on the side of it, as if it has been in someone’s pocket with coins and keys. You wouldn’t do that, so somebody else must have owned it first. Of course, it’s obvious who that was.’ ‘The name on the back,’ said John. Sherlock nodded. ‘The words To Harry with love had been scratched on the back of the phone. So somebody in your family gave you his old phone. Not your father — he would be too old for technology like that. A brother then ... but why did he give you a phone that had been a gift to him? He must have left the person who gave him the phone.’ John was shaking his head in disbelief. How could anybody see all of that? “You're looking for a cheap flat in London,’ Sherlock went on, ‘but you're not asking your brother for help. That means that you don’t get on with him very well.’ John looked out at the dark streets. They were in a partof south London that he didn’t know very well noy, “That ... was amazing,’ he said. “Do you think so?” said Sherlock. He sounded a bit surprised. : : ‘Of course it was,’ said John. ‘It was extraordinary, extraordinary.’ ‘That isn’t what people usually say,’ said Sherlock ‘What do people usually say?” ‘They usually tell me to go away!’ * KK John knew that they had reached the crime scene when saw the flashing lights of several police cars. There was ; line of yellow police tape around the front of the building to stop people coming in, and a police officer guarded the front door. As Sherlock and John walked towards the crime scene, Sherlock asked, ‘Did I get anything wrong?’ ‘It's true, Harry and I don’t get on with each other’ said John. ‘And Harry is getting a divorce.’ ‘Iwas right about everything!’ said Sherlock, pleased with himself for guessing correctly. ‘And “Harry” is short for Harriet,’ said John.Sherlock stopped. ‘Your sister! Harry is your sister!’ He shook his head, annoyed with himself for making a mistake. But now it was time to test his skills with something more important. Inside Lauriston Gardens, the building in front of them, was the fourth dead body. It was time to learn why the police needed his help again.CHAPTER 3 The woman in pink “what are you doing here?’ Before Sherlock and John were allowed i Gardens, they had to get past Sergeant Sally D, le Laurig ly Donoy, Jooked at Sherlock with obvious disli as ke. TI nS had sent to the press the day before were ee that iy NE OF the many reasons Why she did not like Sherlock Hi “Vm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrad: 7s told her. © Sherlock “Why?! ‘1 was invited. I think he wants me to hel investigation,’ said Sherlock. pe Donovan gave him an unfriendly smile. ‘Well what I think, don’t you?’ She pointed at Watso Hels listening to this conversation carefully. ‘Who's ope Fatman tare eratrered Sheek ? laughed. ‘How did you find anyone who Donovan just | would work with you?’ ‘As she let the two men past the police tape, Donovan spoke into her radio. ‘It’s him,’ she said. ‘He's coming in’ ay ; erlock found Lestrade Li Sees / Upterad ee ie big old houses in the Like mary going to be fla work was not Gardens Wi Td all of the flat still empty and yet finished Ae three men went UP to the top floor, unfinis ne od Sherlock, ‘Tan 8°" you two minutes with Peper John felt sure that this was probably against lice rules. area, Lauriston s were » said Sherlock calmly. fer Wilson,’ Lestrade told rds. She hasn't been more time, him. ‘We got # ; here Jong — some kids found her. ‘They had reached the flat on the sight of Jennifer Wilson’s body lying sey Lestrade stopped talking, Even oe clead bodies in his professional life, hard to get used to the sight top floor now. At the face-down on the John, who had seen still found itIt was difficult to kno they couldn’t see her f been a woman who ¢. w the womans face. One thing ‘ared about he; and shoes were all e ae *xactly the same. her umbrella was pink,’ Slour— Sherlock didn’t move at first. He body. John knew that Sherlock w, much more than he PPearance 2 er haq ink, ero stared do or Lestrade ever ‘Shut up!’ Sherlock shouted sedi at Lestrade. “nl looking angi ‘Ididn’t say anything! i ‘You were thinking, said Shetlock ‘ig Slowly Sherlock moved closer to thet word was written on the wooden floor nese, hand. As she lay dying, the woman must hava this word into the floor. The pink fingemaiteom i IS on her left hand were broken and dirty. Ith a y. It had clearly b to her to write this last message to the wore, en Povant RAC.HLE. said Lestrade. annoying body. A single to her left Sherlock bent down and examined the body more closely. Using rubber gloves, he checked her coat ~ first the outside of it, then under the collar. Next he looked at @ been in one pocket. After that he the umbrella that a ee jewellery, carefully started Looking a A a shiny each piece of jewellery was. checking no ing ring from the third finger of her left He took the weet’ pis closely. The inside of the ring hand and ea piny; the outside of the ring did not look rite cleaned for a long time. * while Sherlock was examining the body, John and Frade just stood and watched. At last Lestrade spoke: ot anything?” ark stood. ‘Not much,’ he id nell she’s German,’ said a man in the doorway. He too was wearing the special blue suit worn by people aoe wining a crime scene. This was Anderson, and it was or vious that he disliked Sherlock Holmes even more than Sergeant Donovan did. John was beginning to realise that Sherlock was the sort of man who did not make friends “Ruche is a German word,’ Anderson started to explain. -ghe could be trying to tell us something in German.’ Before Anderson could explain his ideas any further, Sherlock crossed the room quickly and closed the door in his face, saying, ‘Yes, thank you for your help’ Lestrade looked down at the body, ‘So she’s German?” he asked. “Of course not’ said Sherlock. He had his mobile phone in his hand and was using it to check the weather in the UK that day: “she isn’t from this area though,’ Sherlock went on. ‘She intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff. That much is obvious.’ ‘Obvious?’ said John. He was learning that it wasn’t easy to keep up with Sherlock. ea!The detective turned to him now, Jo} Ob, you're Tell me what you think of the by think of the body” Ado Lestrade wasn’t so sure about this, “Thay Pe police team outside,’ he said. ‘'m already ft Sie forthe rule by letting you in her “That's because you need me,’ said Sh Lestrade knew that this was true, ‘Oh, says,’ he told John, and left the room, S* 4° ashe __ Moments later they could hear his voice Anderson, keep everybody out fora couph ae Syin Sherlock looked at John. Well?” °F nut * "What am I doing here?” John asked be helping you to pay the rent, aking every tlock, Tm Supposed ty “Well, this is more fun,’ said the dete "Fun? said John. ‘There's a eee of us.’ ‘Ying dead in frong Sherlock nodded. ‘Perfectly true, but | was hy might provide a little more information than they. 8)" John bent and began to examine the body. Cay any alcohol on her,’ he said. 5 “You know what it was,’ said Sherlock. “You've newspapers.’ ead the “So she was one of the suicides, the fourth one’ The door opened. ‘That was your two minutes, Detective Inspector Lestrade told Sherlock. I need any information that you've got : Sherlock told him: ‘A woman in her late thirties, professional person. She travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. That’s obvious from the size of her suitcase ‘Suitcase?’ said Lestrade, confused. There was no suitcase anywhere near the body. ‘Suitcase, yes,’ said Sherlock. ‘She's married for over en n't sme ® .e’s had other men friends and SI , hat : rried. t she was ma sh - how could “Listen, if you're anyone, even heard enous a this? ee ao your head to the body. ‘Look at her wedding, ears old or more. All of .d regularly, but not only clean rhe inside. ue ff her finger regularly. sae aa st look at her perfect fingernails ~ ee rane Sai a Or who did she oF Be who was not her husband...” hn feud aoe hide his opinion of Sherlock’s amazing sll n cOtjetective. t's brilliant!” he said : “And Cardiff?” asked Lestrade. airs obvious, isn’t it?” replied Sherlock. ack went ba “at must be her jewellery has been cleane per othe! partis # g. The part fe wedding TiS: tne oy that she took it o ten y ring work wi so why remove it feyme,’ said John, The look on vr powwed that it wasn't OOVEOUS {0 him either I his head sadly. ‘What could it be like jttle heads? It must be so boring! Look her coat is a little wet. She was in heavy rain inthe last” fae hours, but it hase rained in London all day. It’s wet tee per collar, too, but her umbrellas dry. That means that she turned her collar up against the rain and the at it was too windy for her to use her umbrella, We didn’t travel far because her suitease was has there been heavy rain and strong el time of two to three hours from ed them his mobile phone, which still country. ‘Cardiff,’ he said estrade. ‘Why do you keep at's not obvious t Lestrade’s fae Sherlock shoo! inside your funny wind, know that she small. So ... where wind within a trav London?’ He show showed the weather for the Something was troubling L talking about her suitcase?” “Yea” said Sherlock. ‘Where is if? We need to find out who Rachel is.’ 'So she was tryin, asked Lestrade. ‘Well, she wasn’t leaving a note in German! Of course Rachel. The question is ~ why did she wait 1g to write RACHEL on the floor’ she was writing until she was dying to write it?” So how do you know that she had a suitcase?’ asked Sherlock pointed down at the back of the dead woman's legs. ‘Look at the marks on the back of her right leg. Those come from pulling a suitcase with wheels in the rain. It's clear from the marks that the case wasn’t very big, so we know that she was only coming for one night. Now where is that suitcase?” “There wasn't a suitcase, was a suitcase.” aid Lestrade. ‘There never Sherlock couldn't believe it. He ran to the do shouted to the other police officers in the house "arnt Did anyone find a suitcase in this house?" “There was 0 suitcase,’ repeated Lestrade. Sherlock started down the stairs, clearly in a hurry ‘Suitcase! they take the poison themselves,’ h , selves he said urgently." Bes ani tar ie pilal There ease ore ey couldn’t miss them!” nied Lestrade stood at the top of the stairs stairs with John,“ are you trying to say?” pe “it's murder’ said Sherlock, ‘all the de : ‘all the deaths. I don’ Row, but they fe ot sulckles” ey Temas Wie sa got ourselves a killer. Oh, how I love these case! There always something to look forward to.’ =A Sherlock stopped and looked back up the stairs. He suitcase! If it wasn’t in the house, the killer must have. driven her here and forgotten that the case was in the can’ His mind was racing and now another thought came tei His eyes flashed wildly. Oh! Oh! He clapped his hands he had a sudden idea. rel‘Sherlock?’ asked With ho os is Killers like this you a} make a mistake,’ said Shes We can’t just wait!’ ia Sometimes Sherlock j himself. What would Was a murderer in the city? Oh, we've finished wait John, worried Ve to wait, just didn’t u ‘Yeah, of course,’ sai \y :,’ said Les' a eas estrade. ‘But what ‘mis In answer, Sherlock shouted j 7 shouted just is And then he had gone. a CHAPTER 4 Friends and enemies nd floor and by the Se cece ares dby the time john Watson — with his limp and his walking stick sort oe idn’t see Sherlock anywhere. here, he couldn’t see Sher!oc 7 : one * ere still lashing lights and lots of police officers oc the house. Sergeant Donovan Was standing by a ar and talking to one of the officers. ‘alled when she saw John. outsi police He's gone,’ she ¢ ‘Sherlock Holmes?” ‘Yes, he just left,’ Donovan “Js he coming back?” at didn’t look as if he was going to.” She turned back other police officer, but John said. ‘He usually does that.’ to her conversation with the didn’t move. ‘Sorry, do you know where I can get a taxi?’ he asked. ‘it’s just ... 'm not sure where Lam and ... “He pointed down at his walking stick. ’... with my bad leg.” ‘Donovan just lifted the police tape and said, “Try the main road.’ ‘Thanks.’ ‘As John passed under the police tape, she said to him, ‘You're not his friend. He doesn’t have friends. So who are you?’ John turned to face her. ‘I'm ... nobody. I just met him.’ “Then here's a bit of advice for you,’ she said. ‘Stay away from that guy.’ ‘Why?’ Donovan's eyes shone with her dislike of Sherlock Holmes. ‘You know why he’s here?’ she asked. ‘He doesn’t get paid or anything. He’s here because he likes it. And the weirder the crime, the more he likes it. And Ithink that one day, just investi stigati enough for hi is body and Sheri, One day we'l pare he crime wal there.’ ock Holmes will be oe aroung one who Put) id appeared Gardens and he called to at the fro to go towards her boss, s one last time. 'T. . Take Holmes.’ e my advice. St Pa Slowly John Wai police lights eee ca away from the Ye mi had left the army. The most unue lost unusual day gj cares pout Sherlock Holmes? Was it all true— \gerous man? As he walked in the direction of the main road, J eld hear a telephone ringing. The sound was ¢ om an empty phone box on the other side of the John just ignored it and continued to the main road, It was much busier here, but John had no luck taxi. Every one that passed by already had a pas the back. He walked in what he thought was the right di Suddenly he heard it over the sounds of the trafic the people on the street a telephone ringing again. looked around and saw that it was coming from empty telephone box. “Strange, thought John. He didn’t like to walk too far wi on busy roads, and so he turned into8 ith his walking sti quieter st as ever going to find a heard it again ~a phone phone box- Like ohn passed the pow exactly he w e, when he "ke him home, Whe! : his time from a third empty tele ringing had only begun as J and picked up the phone was wonderin taxi tot ringin&- the others, the telephone box He went inside “Hello?” that of an plied sounded like ‘an. He spoke in a soft voice. ‘There left. Can you The voice that re} intelligent, confident m: ica CCTV camera on the building to your see it?” “Who is this?” “Can you see the cam‘ asked John. ‘Who’s speaking?” ‘era, Dr Watson?’ the man repeated quietly. John looked outside. There, halfway up the corner of the building, was a white camera. They were such a common sight in London that John usually never even noticed them. “Yes, I can see it,’ John said into the phone. ‘Watch,’ said the voice on the other end of the line. A moment later the camera began to move until it was pointing directly at the telephone box. @®‘There is another camera continued the calm voice o John checked quickly itn Oe. now pointiny Lee . iting straight at him, ‘And finally, another camer on your right,’ said the man ms a one ‘heby John didn’t even need to che e Phone true. ‘How are you doing aa 1020 tat “Get into the car’ replied the var reasonable and dangerous at the sane wan understand that you are not able twesan As the voice said this, a long black ox, the telephone box. The smartly-dressed drone opened the passenger door at the back for ohne There was a woman sitting in the back of theg hardly looked up from her mobile phone as jon next to her. The car began to move quietly throug dark streets of London. ’ ‘Hello,’ said John. Hi.! The woman was in her twenties, attractive well dressed. She gave him a quick smile before ra on the building o to her phone. “What's your name then?” ‘The woman paused. ‘Anthea.’ 4Js that your real name?’ She smiled again, still looking dovn at her phon “No She didn’t seem very interested in coninung conversation. “'m John’ ‘Yes, 1 know!” John looked outside He did: enough to have any idea where 1" any point in asking where going? in’t know London’ well they were now. 1st b and long uml ‘a d businessman. ing peop! men did not bring Ps . nto wonder how Ie to place much danger he was in right now: ‘Have a seat, John, said the tall man, politely pointing to the office chair with his umbrella. John ignored him. ‘You know, I’ve got a phone,’ he said, making no effort to sound polite or friendly. “That was very clever, what you did with the phone boxes and @the camera, but why didn’t you just phone me ..on my phone.” anche tall man just smiled, ‘When you are avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, you must do things alittle snore secretly. His eyes met John's. "Your leg must be hurting —sit down, John was still annoyed. ‘I don’t want to sit down, he sail “You don’t seem very afraid,’ said the tall man. “You don’t seem very frightening.” "Again the tall man smiled. ‘How brave! I think that maze is the kindest word to describe somebody who is being stupid.’ The smile disappeared. ‘What is your - connection to Sherlock Holmes?” “Tdon’t have any connection to him,’ answered John. hardly know him - met him yesterday’ “And since yesterday you've moved into a flat with. and now you're investigating crimes together” John looked up at the tall man. “Who are you?! ‘The man thought about this for a moment. ‘I'm somone who is... interested in what happens to Sherlock Holmes. “Why?’ continued John, ‘Ym guessing that you're not z friends?” “You've met him,’ the man answered calmly. ‘How many friends do you think he has? I'm the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes could ever have” “And what's that?’ asked John. ‘An enemy. John was surprised. ‘An enemy?" “In his mind, certainly. If you asked him, he would probably call me his greatest enemy. Suddenly there was an electronic sound ~ a text message on John’s phone. He looked down at the message on the screen Come to Baker Street at once, if possible SH It was from Sherlock. Why did he want John’s help “Do you plan to continue your connection with Sherlock Holmes?’ asked the tall man, John looked up. I don’t think that’s any of your business, he said. ‘It could be my business,’ said the man. His voice was still quiet but it was the quietness of a man who knows, that he doesn’t need to shout. ‘The tall man had pulled a diary from his suit pocket. ‘IF ‘you do move into 221B Baker Street, I would be happy to give you a regular payment for any information. Just tell me what Sherlock Holmes is doing,” “Why?” asked John. He still had no idea who this enemy of Sherlock's was. “Because I worry about him,’ said the tall man. ‘All the time! Just then, a second text message from Sherlock arrived: Even if not possible, come anyway John looked at the man, ‘I'm not interested,’ he said. ‘The man opened the diary in his hand. ‘It says here that you have problems trusting people” John stared at him. He couldn't understand how this man had got private information about him from his therapist. “Perhaps you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?’ the man continued.‘Are we finished here” said J said Johi to walk back to the car, ™ He tamed ang ‘Limagine that people have al ave alread A away from him,’ the tall man called tar oh see from your left hand that you're not John turned and held up his h, my hand?’ you ty n. “Buty Boing to” ‘and. ‘What's wrong ‘Since you returned from the army, hasn’t stopped shaking. Your therapis terrible memories of war are ‘How do you know that?’ “Who are you?’ “Your therapist is completely wrong,’ said ¢ ‘Look at your hand now. It isn’t shaking at al. You h doesn’t shake because of the awful memories of the a it shakes because you miss the excitement of the wan’ John looked down at his phone. A third message fro Sherlock had arrived: — your left hang thin the reason,’ John was getting angey ks that your the tall man, It could be dangerous John turned and walked back to the car. ‘Time to choose a side, Dr Watson,’ the tall man called after him, but John didn’t look back. eK He asked Anthea if the car could stop somewhere else before taking him to 221B Baker Street. As before, Anthea was more interested in her mobile phone. ‘Of course,’ she said without looking up. The place where he stopped was his old flat. To John, it already looked like part of his past life now. It seemed somehow smaller to him. ® But there was somet with him, He went to drawer, Just a day ago he had told his ther: ned to him. Times had chang ever happe took out his handgun thing here that he wanted to have his desk and pulled open the apist that nothing ed. John quickly and put it in his pocket.