Chapter Text
My teacup gives a satisfying clink as I set down my Earl Grey — the only civilized way to start the day — and continue skimming today’s world news headlines.
An explosion in Switzerland near the World Economic Forum. No injuries, blamed on a faulty boiler. Perhaps so — or perhaps a thwarted attack? I make a mental note to phone my counterpart in Zurich.
Flooding in Australia, protests in India, Egypt, Yemen, continued unrest in Tunisia, human rights concerns in Burma, and another outbreak of bird flu in Japan. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary.
Then near the end, a local headline catches my eye: “Third mysterious London suicide in three days.” A matter for the Yard, of course, not my area, but experience suggests my brother will be involved before the day is out. I’ll be sure to monitor the situation, just in case...
*****
Sure enough, my surveillance pings after lunch.
15:53 SY vehicle arriving at 221B Baker Street. Driver ID: DI Gregory Lestrade.
15:58 SY vehicle departing.
15:59 S. Holmes opening front door, then closing it from inside.
Now that catches my attention. It’s normal for my brother to prefer a private cab over the perceived indignity of riding in the DI’s squad car, but nearly unheard-of for him to reverse course once he’s underway on a case. He normally has the single-minded obsession of a shark who’s scented blood. What could possibly have overridden that monomania to send him back upstairs?
16:03 S. Holmes and unknown party exiting 221B, hailing a cab to Lauriston Gardens.
16:04 Unknown party’s ID: Capt. Dr. John H. Watson.
“Anthea, I need you to pull a file for me.”
*****
Curious, I follow their progress via CCTV. I can’t quite read Sgt. Donovan’s lips at this distance, but from her body language and Dr. Watson’s response, I deduce she’s just shared her opinion of my brother’s mental health. I’m well aware that most of her team considers Sherlock a psychopath. Quite erroneously, of course, but given his… shall we say, “anti-social tendencies” at times, she’s not the first to leap to that conclusion. It’s her loss.
Sergeant Donovan is called into the building and Dr. Watson limps away from the scene, my brother having departed several minutes earlier. I can see from Dr. Watson’s bewilderment that this is his first experience with Sherlock’s tendency to elope without a thought to his companions. He’s done it since childhood — a byproduct of his disinterest in social norms, rather than deliberate rudeness — but unfortunately that nuance is lost on most people.
However, the good doctor looks surprisingly unperturbed by the night’s events. Oh, I can see mild annoyance, but none of the exasperation or judgement that most people broadcast after being abandoned on a chilly January evening. He doesn’t even appear put off by the sergeant’s warning. Most curious…
Moreover, the fact that my brother brought him to the crime scene at all — an entirely unprecedented move, sharing his precious Work with another individual — suggests that Sherlock, too, sees something unusual in this man. This is most intriguing, and only reinforces the need for what I’m about to do...
*****
Dr. Watson limps resignedly away from the crime scene and out toward the main road, presumably to hail a taxi. I deduce his most likely destination and cue up the CCTV camera feeds along his route.
It’s time to test my hypothesis about this unusual new character in my brother’s story.
I pivot the cameras to track his movements. He approaches a call box and I signal it to ring. I don’t expect him to answer, of course, but I’m encouraged that he’s observant enough to notice the anomaly. Likewise, I tap into a restaurant lobby’s phone and trigger its ringer just as Dr. Watson comes within earshot. Again, he continues walking, but now his expression is as good as closed captioning for his thoughts — one phone was odd, two highly suspicious, but still not really my problem…
I locate a third telephone within the same block and cause it to ring just as he walks by. Finally, curiosity overrides indifference and he steps inside the box. I can tell that he’s still not sure this phenomenon has anything to do with him personally, but now it’s a mystery he wants to pursue. Yet another suitable trait in a new flatmate for my dear detective brother…
He picks up the handset. Without preamble, I state placidly, “There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?”
His brow wrinkles in confusion. He doesn’t look up or around yet, but instead challenges, “Who’s this? Who’s speaking?”
“Do you see the camera, Dr. Watson?”
Finally he looks up, straight into the camera. I zoom in on him, and can see in his eyes when he registers the movement.
“Yeah, I see it.”
“Watch,” I say cryptically. I can see that he’s just starting to realize this is a test — though of what, he clearly has no idea.
“There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?”
I give him a moment to look around, then cause that opposite camera to move as well. Then, perhaps superfluously but to ensure there’s no doubt about who’s in control, I continue.
“And finally, at the top of the building on your right.”
A third camera moves when Dr. Watson looks out the other side of the call box, straight into its lens. He’s outwardly calm but I can see his soldier’s instincts coming online as he asks, “How are you doing this?”
“Get into the car, Dr. Watson. I would make some sort of threat, but I’m sure your situation is quite clear to you.”
A black sedan pulls up to the curb, its rear bumper precisely aligned with the call box’s door. An agent in a generic black suit steps out of the passenger side and waits expectantly.
Dr. Watson watches, looking bewildered at this unexpected turn of events, but also keenly alert, focused, and rapidly assessing his options. He slowly moves the phone away from his ear, eyes still fixed on the car. Don’t get into cars with strangers, his rational mind is obviously telling him, while another instinct is unwilling to give up on what’s undoubtedly the most interesting thing to happen to him in months.
I can see the moment that the latter instinct wins out — his expression says, “Well, why not?” He glances down at the phone, back up at the car, licks his lips, then tightens his expression and hangs up the phone. John Watson straightens his spine and walks confidently toward whatever this night has in store.