Chapter Thirteen - The Plot Thickens

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The police were called to the scene as quickly as was possible.  Caroline tried not to look at the dead man in front of them.

John was quickly summoned as well. He confirmed that Phelps was dead. 

"They're not going to think we had something to do with his death, are they?" Caroline expressed her concern in a whisper to Holmes when the police arrived.

"No, they won't," he assured her. He turned and looked to the clock tower standing behind them. "Up there - that's where the shot was fired from."

"You take the police up there, I'll stay here with Caroline," John said, putting an arm around the shaken woman.

"N-no, thank you, that's fine," she assured him, though her voice was shaking. "I want to see as well." She had been very insistent on being a part of this investigation as well after all.  She just hadn't realized in the beginning that they would have to deal with murder. 

John seemed hesitant, considering her current state - she was clearly in shock - but followed as  Holmes led them and the police up to the tower.

"Careful," John said when she stumbled and tripped going up the stairs - she really was in a daze. But was it really any wonder?

The gunshot which had zoomed over their heads and had killed Phelps right before them still rang in her ears. 

Just as Holmes had said, it was empty, the tower - there was no sign of anyone having been here at all. But how could they have fled so quickly? Caroline couldn't think about that at the moment. 

"And you're sure this was where the shooter was?" asked Lestrade.

"Positively certain.  It is the only place from which the shooter would have been able to strike Phelps in the exact centre of the heart. And miss us - they weren't aiming for us, only him." Holmes glanced around.  "Nothing. No one. As was expected. Whoever did this fled as soon as the shot was fired." 

Back in the street, Holmes looked to Phelps's dead body. "I would like a full autopsy report," he requested.

"No need: he was shot once through the heart," John told him. "A perfectly clean shot."

"Still, Watson, if you wouldn't mind."

John sighed. "Let's get the poor bloke to the mortuary then."

They took Caroline to the Watson's home, as they were closer to John and Mary's house than 221B. John and Holmes went to the mortuary to perform the requested autopsy - Caroline was more than all right with leaving this part of the investigation to them.  Mary made the still-shocked Caroline some tea to try and help comfort her.

Gladstone curled up at her feet, his head resting on his paws, as though he sensed her distress. She didn't even mind if he drooled all over her dress.

"If there's one thing I've learned about those two," Mary sighed,  "Is that they can get into a lot of trouble. And a lot of trouble can follow them." 

"So it would seem." Caroline tightened the shawl Mary had lent her over her shoulders. She wasn't cold, and yet she was shivering. "Tell me more about Holmes," she requested. Of course, she was curious about the detective, and at the moment she was desperately in need of a distraction. She had just witnessed a murder, after all. "I mean, I would like to get a better sense of his character since we are working so closely together, and living in the same house at the moment. And this case feels so personal. But it's been very difficult for me to get a sense of that from him himself. He's very reclusive." And now not to mention the few tender moments they had shared.

Mary smiled. "He is that. But when he cares about someone, he cares very deeply. I've seen it with him and John." She smiled affectionately. "Your case is in good hands, Caroline. Trust me on that."

"I do." She did trust Mary, and she wanted to tell her about the strange and tender moments she and Holmes had shared lately, but decided against it, for now. She was much too shaken to think about that, and let alone try to deduce it.

"John said you paid a visit to a fortune teller," Mary said, and Caroline was glad to keep the conversation moving along. The more they spoke, the less time she had to think about the events of that morning.

"Oh, yes, Madam Cosma. My father went to see her for some divine wisdom before he died." She didn't feel like going into Harold and Cosma's romantic history at the present moment.

"He told me she made you pick tarot cards, and that family is in our future." Mary smiled at this.

"Yes, he seemed very excited about that."

"Yes, we both are." Mary grinned. "What was your card?"

"Oh, love."

"Oh, exciting also!" Mary grinned at her from behind her teacup.

"Yes, it is." She still had no idea what that meant. As Cosma herself had said, 'love' could mean a great many things. That comment took on a new and different weight now that Caroline knew about Cosma and her father. 

"And what about Holmes? I'd be surprised if he even participated."

"Oh, he did."

"Really?"

"Yes, albeit reluctantly. And then claimed it all to be lies afterwards."

"And, what card did the great Sherlock Holmes draw?"

The realization suddenly struck her. "Love as well..."

"Oh. How curious."

"Yes..." How curious indeed.  She and Holmes had both drawn the same card... Even Madam Cosma had remarked on it. 

The front door opened then. Gladstone got up off Caroline's skirt and barked his way to greet John and Holmes, though ran away when Holmes tried to pet him.

"Well, I confirmed - again - the cause of death," John informed. "It's still quite a marvel how precise the shot was."

"He clearly thought we were with this Red Circle," Holmes mused, sitting down in a chair, tapping his finger on his lips thoughtfully. "The plot thickens..."

It certainly was.   How had her father gotten himself so entwined with all this? "He seemed absolutely terrified of them," Caroline added.  "Frightened, just like Madam Cosma was. That means they must have quite a presence in London, then." She wondered who else knew about them.  "Do you think that's who he was fleeing from? Or trying to flee from?"

"Well, when I asked he said 'you', and he clearly thought we were working for them so yes, I think it is safe to assume he was." Holmes stood and began pacing across the room. "That would also explain why he had moved so many times to different places over the last few months."

"To try and get them off his sent," said John.

"Exactly.  Unfortunately, it didn't work out for him."

"You think it was them who killed him, the Red Circle?" asked Caroline.

"I think it is very likely." 

"Poor man. Do you think he was an employee at the Langham before getting involved with the Red Circle, or they placed him there as a spy?"

"It is too early to say for sure.  First, we need to see what this Red Circle is all about and what they're up to." Holmes jumped to his feet.  "Well, last night was fun, but the fun is over and now it's back to work!" He clapped his hands together. 

John began to chuckle.

"What?" asked Caroline.

John smirked. "He doesn't know."








(Haha, the great Sherlock Holmes is at a loss! ;) But not for long! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! :))

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