Human Error - Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter forty one - getting steamy up in here

We exit the living room and move into the hall. Veronica is sitting on the staircase, her head in her hands as she sobs away, and a woman is sat next to her with her thin, shaky arms around her fragile frame. A couple of family members or friends are standing nearby, unable to say anything but sadness is plastered on their faces like nothing I have seen before.

That was a lie. I've seen grief before; I've experienced it. It's like an ocean that comes in a wave and suddenly engulfs and overwhelms you. It just feels so numbing yet so painful, there is no other feeling.

I can see it in this young girls eyes; a girl who looks like she is in her twenties, yet her attire tells me that she clearly works here. I recognise her from earlier -- she's one of the maids. She's stood there watching Veronica mourn, her fingers are twidling nervously and tears are silently falling from her hopeless eyes. Veronica and Oliva didn't seem like the type to treat their employees bad. It was understandable that they were upset too, it has been shocking for everyone.

"Excuse me," Sherlock speaks up, cutting the air like a dagger. Veronica looks up with her wet eyes and waits for him to continue, so he does. "I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for your loss. What happened is atrocious, and I promise I will find out who did this."

Veronica sniffs, "Why would you make a promise like that?"

"Because it's what I do," Sherlock answers, and he looks genuinely sympathetic for a short moment. "Do you mind if my colleagues and I take a look upstairs?"

"Go ahead, not like much will come of it. The police will be here any minute now." She tells him as she wipes her eyes, mascara smudging onto her red skin. Sherlock just nods in understanding and walks up the stairs through the gap that Veronica had made for him, and John follows after. I was about to go with, but then I'm stopped by someone grabbing my arm.

"Ella, can I speak with you for a moment?" Edward asks. I look up the stairs and see that they've already gone. Sighing, I turn to glace at Edward.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for my outburst. It's just Sherlock... he's just..."

"I know," I say with a sad, effortless smile. It was stupid to believe that they could get along.

"I really wanted to try, but when he looks at me I can tell he doesn't trust me. He blames me for everything that happened when we were kids, Ell. He hasn't let that go."

"He went through a lot back then." I defended, crossing my arms. I couldn't blame him for snapping at Sherlock because it's Sherlock. He drives everyone up the bloody wall. But I couldn't help my mind from wandering to another similar outburst years ago between the Edward and Sherlock -- they were just kids, I told myself, shaking the thought from my head. 

"No, I know that. I just wish things could be better now." He finishes and pauses, searching my eyes for a second. He then lowers his voice so people don't listen in on the conversation, "I'm sorry about bringing you here tonight, I wanted us to have a great time, but then..."

"You don't need to apologise, no one expected this to happen," I expressed, hesitating for a moment before reaching my hand out to gently grasp his. I wasn't one to show affection, but there were times where you just needed to. "I'm sorry about what happened to her. I knew you guys were friends."

He's quiet for a short moment, before a small smile tugs on his lips. He squeezes my hand tighter, "Thank you."

Blue and red lights can abruptly be seen throughout the room as police cars pull up outside, advertising themselves. I chew on my bottom lip as everyone sits up with alarm.

"I should probably get the boys," I tell Edward, pulling my hand away.

"I should probably help these lot. I need to give a statement and such."

"I'll see you soon?" I ask hopefully, and he just nods with a warm smile. I smile in return, before turning my back and heading up the caramel carpet coated stairs, keeping an eye out for tall and short. I hear the distant sound of mumbling coming from a room on the left.

The door was open but I push it open wider, stepping inside to what seems to be the bathroom. John is standing there with what looks like a steamer in his hands that is used for clothes. I then look towards Sherlock, who has his phone in his hands and is taking a picture of the large, square mirror hung on the white tiles.

What catches my attention more is the message that was written on the mirror.

"My love, meet me at the fish tank at 12.

S xo"

This was such a vital clue, we would have completely missed this if they didn't check the rooms upstairs. The message looks like it was drawn on with someone's finger, so when someone would have showered, probably Olivia this morning, the steam would have fogged up the mirror and allowed her to read the message.

"It's a good thing I found this steamer." John comments, baffled.

"Well, this gets more interesting. She was having an affair?" I deduct but still look towards Sherlock for confirmation.

"Could have been Veronica," John inputs.

"No, it wasn't her." Sherlock clears, looking at the message like it would suddenly tell him all of the answers to his questions.

For some reason, I conjure up the image of the young woman downstairs. I watched her as she fiddled with her fingers anxiously, as she slouched, as her gaze was on the floor, but her eyes watered and overflowed with sadness. And maybe it was, but maybe it was something else too.

Guilt.

"I think I know who did it."

Everyone in the room snapped their heads to look at me, and although I couldn't be sure, I know that after an interview by the police and a nice, easy deduction by Sherlock that the truth would be revealed.

The bathroom door opens swiftly and in walks a familiar looking detective. Lestrade stops when he witnesses us, and his face looks as if he had just mentally taken a massive sigh and a roll of the eyes.

"How did I know that you guys would be here?"