From desk worker detective to Sergeant at Scotland Yard, Adelaide Gregson has come a long way from her days in Manhattan. When one consulting detective catches her eye, things get complicated. When a case now means life or death, will sentiment prov...
Sherlock didn't receive a text after he solved this one. No pips. Now we just had to wait. I decided to go home take a shower, and change. Once I got out Sherlock texted me that he and John were going to grab some lunch and he wanted me to come as well. I was a bit hungry, so I texted him back that I would meet them there.
After a short cab ride I found the cafe Sherlock and John were at. I quickly texted Lestrade that we were still waiting to hear from the bomber again, but I would let him know when we did.
I sat down next to Sherlock, he had taken the liberty of ordering me something he knew I would like. I smiled as the food arrived when I sat down.
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"I sounds like you have hardly stopped for breath since this thing started." John said, clearly Sherlock had filled him in on the things he had missed. I nodded politely and smiled.
"Has it occurred to you..." John began before Sherlock cut him off.
"Probably." Sherlock said. John rolled his eyes and continued.
"No, has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid's shoes, it's all meant for you." John said.
"Yes, I know." Sherlock said.
"Is it him, then? Moriarty?" John asked.
"Perhaps." Sherlock answered when the pink phone buzzed.
This time three pips and a photo of Connie Prince. She was like the British Oprah or Ellen, but with fashion.
"That could be anybody." Sherlock said, confused.
"Could be, yeah. Lucky for you I've been more than a little unemployed." John said.
I sent a text to Lestrade.
Three pips and a picture of Connie Prince.
AG
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.
"Lucky for you, Mrs. Hudson and I watch far too much telly." John said, getting out of his chair to change the telly in the cafe. He changed it to the news where they were showing clips of Connie's show and announcing her death. Immediately as the channel clicked over to her the pink phone rang and I turned to Sherlock as he answered it.
"Hello." He said, listening intently.
"Why are you doing this?" He asked. Then putting down the phone, clearly not happy with the answer he received.
My own phone buzzed, it was a text from Greg.
Meet you at the morgue.
GL
I looked up to Sherlock, who was already almost out the door.
The three of us met Lestrade at the morgue where Molly Hooper had laid her body out for us. He was reading from her file.
