Murder with Lens: A Sherlock Holmes Case (221B Baker Street Series) by S.K. Lloyds Read Free Book Online Page B

carpet.
    Victim dragged head first.
    “This store is open until 8PM on Fridays.” Reese said. “So this club was gathering down here without store knowledge.”
    John drifted up to stand beside Reese, watching Sherlock hunt through the room.
    “They came in under cover of darkness.” Sherlock made a quick span of his hands in air as if measuring something that appeared inside his mind. He gestured at the door. “Your man came in first. This was routine, so the coat came off, and he was relaxed. He’d done the homework, knew his percentages, plus, he’s comfortable with risk. He framed the scene, put up the flier on the door, planted the cups and smokes, other false evidence. He’s their roadie.” The back of one hand clapped into the palm of the other, “He sets the stage. That was your mole’s job.”
    Reese followed this with, “His fingerprints will be on the bulbs. He might have worn gloves to change them, but there was the handling he did before coming here. He would have changed the white lights out with these red and reversed them after. It’s his night vision that took the pounding when he did that.”
    “No night vision in a dimly lit room.” Sherlock opened his arms.
    Reese nodded her ducked head, “Equals good night, Gracie. And that makes that dead man Lawrence, particularly if we can pull anything we can match to the CIA database off the bulb.” She cupped a hand over her nose and mouth. “God, the smell….”
    “Meaning your initial assessment was right, and he’d gone dark for a good reason.” Sherlock saw John’s lips tighten into a line. “Uh… bad reason; for a reason. Let’s get air. You’re blacking out.”
    “What?” John said abruptly. But he didn’t need any further explanation when Reese began to buckle toward the floor.
    John caught her on one side, and Lestrade rushed in to get her on the other. Reese struggled to get her legs locked under her, and bent at the waist. She was slim. It would take nothing to lift her.
    Sherlock turned toward the door with an exclamation. “Oh this is capital! Get in here and dust for prints Anderson.” He threw his hands out, excitedly, “The night’s looking up!”
    On his way out, Sherlock momentarily shut them all in nearly blinding darkness so that he could snatch the flier from the back of the door.
    ***
    “I don’t understand the need for this,” Special Agent Young pushed a lock of white blonde hair off of her face and warmed her hands on a cup of coffee.
    “Freak doesn’t eat when he’s on a case,” Donovan sighed. They had the table beside the door of the soup and sandwich shop in which the team sat. “We’re doing this for John. And John’s a nice guy.”
    Young’s grey-blue eyes narrowed as she looked at Lestrade. “You run it differently over here. It’s very… unstructured. I mean, are you sure you’re getting everything you can out of him with your method? If you… have a method?”
    “It’s the question and answer method. Sherlock isn’t one for holding back,” Lestrade had to look back over his shoulder to take the American team in. This was because he was facing John, Sherlock, and Reese at the table in the back corner, and because he didn’t approve of the CIA’s methods. “And then again, Sherlock hasn’t sliced up his wrists, so I count myself pretty effective.”
    “Hm.” Young glanced back from Lewis and Scott who stood outside. “How’d he get shot?”
    Donovan snickered, “Not everyone’s a fan.”
    In the back, at the table directly under the vent expelling warm air into the room, Sherlock sipped tea and watched John polish off his hearty vegetable soup and black forest ham. Beside him, Reese stared at nothing. Her face was blank, but at least she was warm again.
    “I knew him,” she swallowed hard and then looked down at her latte. “That’s what’s gotten into me. I knew him for months.”
    “It will pass,” Sherlock said calmly. He turned from John to study her.
    “Yeah.