Orphan on Baker Street

Forty Fifth: Sherlock's POV

》Sherlock's POV《

In the days following, Mrs. Hudson gets in conatct with a bondsman, and the money is all sorted out. This morning she set off to Belmarsh to get that taken care of. So far, the plan is going swimmingly. Mary confirmed that her lawyer friend is willing to defend Mickey.

I sit in my armchair and text Lestrade. The sunlight from the window streams over my shoulder and casts a glare on my phone screen.

Have you spoken to Schmidt yet?
SH

Tucking my phone into my pocket, I stand and waltz over into the kitchen. Someone left a test tube uncapped next to my research papers; what if it had spilled? I put the small piece of cork back into the test tube and hear my phone buzz in my pocket. My thumb unlocks it with a faint click.

I cant discuss personal information about the victim. U werent put on the case... so theres no excuse for me to tell U.

I roll my eyes before quickly replying with:

I'll be down at Scotland Yard in 10.

Then I take long strides towards the coat rack, reaching for my trench coat. I pause, my hand falling limply to my side as I sigh. Pulling open the door angrily, I quickly descend the stairs, and I'm eventually out on the street hailing a cab. It feels odd to not wear my coat.

A cab stops in front of me, and I hop in, requesting Scotland Yard. The driver takes off as I sit back but don't fully relax. We go along, and I stare out the window at the many things going on. It's a Thursday in August; the weather is nice for once, and I notice that the groups of obnoxious tourists I usually see are beginning to show up less and less.

The cab stops, and I pull out the needed money from the front pocket of my slacks before getting out.

I head straight for Lestrade's office. It's his lunch break, so he shouldn't be too busy. Upon walking into his office, I see that I was wrong. He has company.

In a split second, I figure out the woman: she wears straight blonde hair back in a professional ponytail and a durable, comfortable brand of sneakers. This is clearly a nurse, as I notice scrubs poking out from under her plain blue jacket. There's a hickey on her neck and a brand new - expensive - bracelet, bought locally by someone who cares a lot about her... but she doesn't feel the same. It was given to her a few days ago, and this is the first time she's worn it. Her purse sits beside her feet, and I see the spine of a book. The few letters I see are "O O K". I assume it's The Notebook - she likes romance novels; she's very sappy, emotional, and a sucker for heart shaped jewelery, which she wears on her arm now. If that's the case, then why has she seemed to pay no attention to it until today? She's completely over him. Maybe it's because of his alcohol addiction.

I glance over to Lestrade and flash him a small smile. He seems aggrivated.

"Sherlock, I said I couldn't share the information. If you could please leave - I'm a bit busy," he says sternly.

I glance around his desk and spot a folder labeled Schmidt.

"You're wasting your time," I mutter, taking the folder swiftly. He opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head at him. "Don't say anything. I'm going to go copy this for myself and give it back, so if you'll excuse me."

I turn to walk from his office, hearing a low, "Gladly" behind myself as I go. His ex-wife didn't seem to mind me. I can already tell she's one of the smarter ones.

The copier is through the door just to the right of Lestrade's office. Luckily for me, it's empty. I quickly copy the few lined sheets of paper from the folder, skimming the words as I put them onto the machine. For good measure, I copy the page with his basic information as well as a list of people he's associated with. The name "Rickey" sticks out in my mind.

When I'm done, I put everything back in the folder as I found it and return to Lestrade's office. His ex-wife laughs at something he says, and he smiles proudly. It fades as he sees me walk back in.

"Thanks." It sounds a bit sarcastic when he says it, holding his hand out. I slide the folder into his grip and glance over at the woman.

"I don't think we've met," I say kindly, reaching out for a handshake. "I'm Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."

She rushes to finish a bite of salad before shaking my hand quickly and sending me a smile. "Yes, I know! I've seen you in the papers." Her voice is light; she was born and raised in London. "I'm Abby."

"Abby! What a lovely name," I coo with a wide smile. "It was nice meeting you. Well, I guess I'll be off - don't want to keep you two any longer. Thanks, Lestrade!" As soon as I turn around to leave, my happy façade fades, and I walk briskly out of Scotland Yard.

As I slide into a cab, my phone rings; the screen says-

"Mrs. Hudson," I reply quickly. Then I lean forward and whisper, "221B Baker Street," to the driver. Sitting back, I listen to my landlady's hurried voice.

"There wasn't a bail; the crime was too big."

"What do you-? You're lying," I frown. Why would she lie?

"Sherlock, why would I lie about something like this?" she says sadly. "I'm on the way home now."

I sigh and decide to play along. "Me, too. I guess we can go visit Mickey tomorrow or something."

"Alright, we'll do that... I'm sorry. I know you tried so hard with the bondsman and getting her out and-"

I interrupt, "Mrs. Hudson, it's nothing, honestly! You tried, and that's what matters." I smirk out the window; I'm a good actor.

"Alright, see you soon!" She hangs up. I click off my phone's screen and go to put it in my coat pocket before remembering I don't have it on. I slide it into my trousers.

The cab comes to a halt in front of 221B, and I hand him cash before getting out quickly.

Upon entering the building, I smell tea. It's coming from my own flat, so I hastily ascend the stairwell by twos. I push the door open further - it was slightly ajar - and look around the sitting room. It's empty, but when I look through the slightly opaque window on the door, I freeze. The silhouette of a young woman's profile is framed jaggedly by the natural light that flows from the windows on the wall through the odd pattern of the window on the door. This is just like it was in my mind palace.

The silhouette moves forward quickly, and Mickey's head peeks around the door at me with a bright grin.

"Surprise," she exclaims.