Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Reichenbach Fall- Nine

Chapter Nine

"What's going on?"

"Kidnapping, John." I responded, reading through the files. "Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S."

"He's in Washington, isn't he?"

"Not him. His children, Max and Claudette, age seven and nine." Sally turns to show us a picture of two children. "They're at St Aldate's."

"Posh boarding place down in Surrey." Donovan spoke up. "The school broke up; All the other boarders went home, just a few kids remained, including those two."

"The kids have vanished."

"You don't say?" I replied sarcastically to Sally. "The ambassador's asked for you both personally." Lestrade ignored my comment. Grabbing my coat, Sherlock and I walk in step. "The Reichenbach Hero's." Donovan snidely adds. Sherlock hesitates momentarily but we continue on. "Isn't it great to be working with celebrities." Lestrade basks in the famished glory.

St Aldate's School - Midday

Greg's car drives into the grounds of the boarding school and pulls up outside the front entrance. Two police cars are already there and a woman is standing in front of one of them, leaning against the bonnet wearing a shock blanket around her shoulders and crying while a uniformed female police officer talks reassuringly to her. A man, probably a plain clothed police officer, is also talking to her but walks away as Greg, Sally, the boys and I get out of the car and approach. The woman blows her nose on her handkerchief.

"Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress. Go easy." Lestrade tells us sternly. I stay by side of Greg whilst Sherlock walks over to the weeping woman. "Miss Mackenzie, you're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night." His voice rises angrily. "What are you: an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?" Grabbing the shock blanket, he abruptly pulls it from around her shoulders. She gasps in fear as he glares furiously at her. "Now quickly, tell me!"

"All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No one, not even me went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" She begged. Sherlock's entire demeanour changes and he smiles reassuringly and gently takes hold of her shoulders. "I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly."

"Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now." I state to a police officer close by. I walk over to the lady and cover her with the blanket once more, giving her a gentle smile.

Shortly afterwards, inside the school, Sherlock and I lead the others into one of the dormitories. "Six grand a term, you'd expect them to keep the kids safe for you. You said the other kids had all left on their holidays?" John flabbergasts on. "They were the only two sleeping on this floor. Absolutely no sign of a break-in." Picking up a lacrosse stick lying on the floor I get to my feet while looking at the stick closely. I briefly wield it as if using it as a weapon but then decide against it because it clearly wasn't used in that way. "The intruder must have been hidden inside some place."

Sherlock and I then go over to a wooden trunk and opens the lid. Amongst the other items inside the trunk he finds a large brown envelope with a wax seal on the back which has already been broken as if someone has opened the envelope. Inside is a large hardback book. Carefully checking the envelope first, he then takes out the book and flips it over to look at the cover. The book is 'Grimm's Fairy Tales.' I look along the edges of the book and then riffle the pages quickly. Finding nothing of interest, I respond: "Show me where the brother slept."

We take to another smaller dormitory and looks around, Sherlock takes to stand beside the only bed in the room which still has bedding on it. The bed is opposite the door, which has a frosted glass pane in it. He looks towards the door while gesturing down to the bed. "The boy sleeps here every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor. He'd recognise every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door." He deduces. "So someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognise, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon." Leaving the others, I go outside the door and pull it so it's almost closed. Raising my hand, I point my fingers, shaping a gun showing the others how it would be seen through the frosted glass.

"What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out?" Sherlock starts to circle the bed. "This little boy; This particular little boy who reads all of those spy books. What would he do?"

"He'd leave a sign?" John suggests. Sherlock starts sniffing noisily. He picks up a cricket bat leaning against the nearby cupboard and sniffs along both sides of it. Putting the bat down again he squats and sniffs around the bedside table, then reaches under the bed and picks up an almost empty glass bottle of linseed oil. He looks up. I sigh. He's gonna say it.

"Get Anderson."