Hello Detective

A Study in Pink Part 8

I pulled up to the crime scene with lights flashing. I saw a gurney covered in a long white sheet being rolled out of the building. I slapped your hand over I mouth in shock. Everything was becoming so real, the world was spinning. Everything was happening in slow lotion. Lestrade looked apathetically at me.

My eyes scanned the scene looking for John. The flashing Ambulance lights drew my attention. My eyes opened wide as I saw him.

"Sherlock!" I screamed, my body taking over. I felt my legs running at him as fast as possible. He looked up to me with a smile. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tight, making sure he was real. Surprisingly he squeezed back.

"I thought you were dead." I pulled back, standing in front of him. He had an orange shock blanket wrapped around him. "All we knew was a 187 happened right where I knew you were."

"I promised you I'd be okay." He said, smiling.

Anderson turned around towards the two of us with Donovan by his side. "Should we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" Anderson asked.

Sherlock looked down into your eyes as I let out a light chuckle.

"What?" He asked.

"Your brother said the same thing." I explained. Sherlock laughed.

"Anyway, what happened? Tell me everything." I asked, eyes wide with curiosity, thankful Sherlock was alive.

"Well, when I followed him outside he said I could call the cops, but if I did he'd never tell me how it was done. I had to know, I had to understand. Once I was in the car he said he was warned about me, apparently I have a fan." He said.

"What about the suicides? How'd he manage that?" I asked.

"Two identical pills. You take one, he takes the other. A complete game of chance." He explained.

"No one's that lucky. How did they pick the bad pill four times?" I asked in awe. Sherlock nodded in agreement, he wasn't 100% sure either.

"But what's the point? Why kill four people? For the fun of it?" You asked.

"He had an aneurism. He was a dead man walking. Every life he took money would go to his kids. He had a sponsor." Sherlock said.

"And I thought I'd heard it all." I laughed. "Who was his sponsor? You get a name?" I asked again.

"Moriarty." Sherlock said.

Lestrade walked up to the two of us.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me." Sherlock told him.

"Yeah, it's for shock." Lestrade explained.

"I'm not in shock." Sherlock whined.

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanted to take photographs." Sherlock rolled his eyes as I laughed.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" Sherlock asked. You were confused for a moment, before piecing it together. If Sherlock was still alive then the cabbie had to have been the 187, and someone had to have shot him.

"Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him, but... we've got nothing to go on." Lestrade said.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Sherlock said with a smirk.

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a handgun. A kill shot over that distance, that kind of weapon. That's a crack shot we're looking for. But not just a marksman, a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service, and nerves of steel..." Sherlock trailed off as his eyes landed on something behind me.