It always rains in England, but when the sun does come out, people cherish its light. Everyone knows that if the sun does come out, something up above has given them good day. Today, in the cold month of April, was like every other day. The rain has been falling for hours and does not look to be stopping soon. Blocking its path is a man with a long billowing coat and a mop of black curls atop his head and the other, for be as small as he are, holds himself high with his stoic nature. In the entrance to an abandoned factory in Addlestone does the adventure of the great detective, Sherlock Holmes and army doctor, John Watson begins.
~§~
“You’re sure he’s in there?” The good doctor asks looking to his friend.
“Quite certain,” Sherlock answer staring at the entrance. “Like I’ve said countless times, John. Serial killers always make a mistake.” And they did. Sherlock’s lips twitched at the mere thought of the idiocy Gillion Renny did when leaving his last scene. It’s one to leave parts and bits of your crime, but to leave a fresh boot print on the floor is another.
Gillion Renny, an electrician from Athlone, Ireland, made home in London a few weeks prior to his week of murders. It still does not make sense to Sherlock as to why a man like Gillion would murder three people like he did. No connections, no motives, just three strangers and a great puzzle. Sherlock was almost disappointed to figure it out. It has been fun week chasing Gillion’s murders, but someone like him should not be on earth.
Looking to his left towards John, Sherlock takes the Browning L9A1 out from his pocket and cocks it. “So you did had my gun.” John sighs while turning to Sherlock. “I thought Rosie or Lestrade finally found it,” pausing, John continued. “So you lied when I asked you this morning?”
“Yup,” Sherlock replied making the ‘p’ pop. “And if I were to be entirely honest, John. I believe Rosie would have found it long before Scotland Yard had the chance to step into 221B.” Both turned towards the other and let loose a few chuckles in the rain. John took a deep breath and looked towards the entrance. They both took their first steps towards the factory and soon entered. Praying to see this door again, John falls in line with Sherlock, back straight, mind on high alert, and fists clenched. After all, Sherlock has his gun, so what else would he defend himself with? Scoffing to himself, John followed the detective as they traveled deeper into the old building.
Laughing at the scene was a common occurrence between both Sherlock and John. Given the circumstance, it was common for laughter to ensue when they both knew what the outcome might be. Better to live your last moments happy than with worry John thought.
~§~
The factory was huge. If Gillion was in here, no doubt he would have seen the duo by now. Looking around, John not only felt uneasy about being in the open, but the factory triggered some unpleasant past memories. “Sherlock. How come this place seems familiar?” John whispers while looking at all the machinery around the two. Sherlock, of course, tried to ignore John and his worries to stay focused. Gillion Renny, a three time serial killer was roaming around this place and Sherlock needed every ounce of thought to find him. Yet, the comment did not sit well with Sherlock.
“John, stop reminiscing on the past. Might I remind you, Gillion Renny stabbed a man thirteen times, beat him till death, then stabbed him twice more. I do not think that—” Sherlock stopped himself. Why isn’t John responding? Sherlock thought. Normally John would have told him to quit talking during these rants. But John was awfully silent, making no sound, not even a footstep. Realization hit Sherlock like pavement on the street. Turning around, gun raised, Sherlock saw exactly what he pictured. Instead of one figure, there was two, but one was taller and grasping the other. Before Sherlock stood Gillion Renny with one hand silencing John and the other, pressing a gun to John’s temple.
“Was wondering how long you were going to keep chatting. I could have took off with your doctor and not even the great Sherlock Holmes would have been the wiser.” Smiling, Gillion let his hand over John’s mouth drift towards John’s throat, putting him in a chokehold. Sherlock reacted by tightening his grip on the gun.
“You didn’t call for...backup...didn’t you Sherlock?” John asked, hesitating due to lack of air. The only response he received was Sherlock’s eyes darting down to him and back to Gillion. You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, John thought as he tried to adjust himself in the chokehold. He’s going to be the death us.
“I’m sure you already know who I am, Sherlock, so I’m going to skip the greetings, but it is an honor to finally meet you both in person. It’s a bit better than seeing you in the papers,” Gillion said, “But I will say. It was not as exciting as I though it was going to be.” Looking away from Sherlock with a disappointing look on his face.
“Well?” Asked Sherlock, “What exactly were you expecting?”
“I’ll tell you what I wasn’t expecting. This,” Gillion pointed to both John and Sherlock with the barrel of the gun. “I wasn’t expecting this. It was too easy! Even for you, Sherlock. This seems too easy!” With the gun in his hand, Sherlock took a step forward. His eyes stuck on Gillion, looking for any hesitation in the man’s movements.
Unable to find any, Sherlock knew he was running out of options. As Sherlock stepped forward, Gillion pressed the barrel of his gun harder into John’s head, attempting to stop Sherlock.
“Don’t come any closer Sherlock or you’re going to get a quick version of what I’m about to tell you.” Seeing his friend trying to hold in the pain as the barrel was pressed even harder to John’s head. Not wanting to harm John anymore and intrigued by what Gillion said, Sherlock stopped.
“Go on,” Sherlock demanded, gun still trained on Gillion. “Tell us the long version. I’m sure we all want to hear it”
“Sherlock...a bit not...good.” Choked out John. Finding it hard to breath with Gillion’s arm wrapped around his throat. Even with a gun to his head, John still tried to keep the mood up, but resulted in Gillion tightening his grip to John’s throat releasing a wheeze.
“You seem real anxious to share something with us, Gillion.” Sherlock could sense the impatience radiating off of Gillion as every second went by. He found the hesitation. Just keep him talking Sherlock though. Without lowering his gaze and gun, Sherlock continues, smirking while doing so. “Let us here it.”
With a slight smile, Gillion spoke. “You still have no idea, do you Sherlock? What my mission is?” Gillion stopped to let it sink in. “Let me tell you this. Everything I want is in my hands right now. A gun an—” Before Gillion has a chance to finish his sentence, sirens could be heard in the near distance.
“You...Bloody idiot...You called them...didn’t you?” John stammered out.
Looking to both John and Gillion Sherlock let out a quiet, “Maybe?” A small smile crept up on his face, but not on Gillion’s.
Pressing the gun even harder into John’s skull, earning a small groan, Gillion, for the first time this night, looked frantic. Then, suspiciously, Gillion calmed down as if his body rebooted. Sherlock’s smirk faded from his face when he saw the change.
“You know. My boss always liked the police. Thought of them as funny little puppets running around. He could lead them to anywhere he wanted and they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash because they’re not like you and I. No. No, no, no, no. There are only three of us Sherlock, and your dear doctor here is not one of them. He sent me on a mission and I will complete it.” Who sent Gillion? Gears started to turn in Sherlock’s head. Gillion was more than just a serial killer killing for fun. He has a mission. And his mission was right in front of him. John?
Gillion’s trigger finger twitched, John started struggling, and Sherlock held his breath.
“Ta, Sherlock!”
A gun shot is heard and a struggle ensues. Then, the pattering of rain is heard on the roof.
~§~
“You’re sure he’s in there?” The good doctor asks looking to his friend.
“Quite certain,” Sherlock answer staring at the entrance. “Like I’ve said countless times, John. Serial killers always make a mistake.” And they did. Sherlock’s lips twitched at the mere thought of the idiocy Gillion Renny did when leaving his last scene. It’s one to leave parts and bits of your crime, but to leave a fresh boot print on the floor is another.
Gillion Renny, an electrician from Athlone, Ireland, made home in London a few weeks prior to his week of murders. It still does not make sense to Sherlock as to why a man like Gillion would murder three people like he did. No connections, no motives, just three strangers and a great puzzle. Sherlock was almost disappointed to figure it out. It has been fun week chasing Gillion’s murders, but someone like him should not be on earth.
Looking to his left towards John, Sherlock takes the Browning L9A1 out from his pocket and cocks it. “So you did had my gun.” John sighs while turning to Sherlock. “I thought Rosie or Lestrade finally found it,” pausing, John continued. “So you lied when I asked you this morning?”
“Yup,” Sherlock replied making the ‘p’ pop. “And if I were to be entirely honest, John. I believe Rosie would have found it long before Scotland Yard had the chance to step into 221B.” Both turned towards the other and let loose a few chuckles in the rain. John took a deep breath and looked towards the entrance. They both took their first steps towards the factory and soon entered. Praying to see this door again, John falls in line with Sherlock, back straight, mind on high alert, and fists clenched. After all, Sherlock has his gun, so what else would he defend himself with? Scoffing to himself, John followed the detective as they traveled deeper into the old building.
Laughing at the scene was a common occurrence between both Sherlock and John. Given the circumstance, it was common for laughter to ensue when they both knew what the outcome might be. Better to live your last moments happy than with worry John thought.
~§~
The factory was huge. If Gillion was in here, no doubt he would have seen the duo by now. Looking around, John not only felt uneasy about being in the open, but the factory triggered some unpleasant past memories. “Sherlock. How come this place seems familiar?” John whispers while looking at all the machinery around the two. Sherlock, of course, tried to ignore John and his worries to stay focused. Gillion Renny, a three time serial killer was roaming around this place and Sherlock needed every ounce of thought to find him. Yet, the comment did not sit well with Sherlock.
“John, stop reminiscing on the past. Might I remind you, Gillion Renny stabbed a man thirteen times, beat him till death, then stabbed him twice more. I do not think that—” Sherlock stopped himself. Why isn’t John responding? Sherlock thought. Normally John would have told him to quit talking during these rants. But John was awfully silent, making no sound, not even a footstep. Realization hit Sherlock like pavement on the street. Turning around, gun raised, Sherlock saw exactly what he pictured. Instead of one figure, there was two, but one was taller and grasping the other. Before Sherlock stood Gillion Renny with one hand silencing John and the other, pressing a gun to John’s temple.
“Was wondering how long you were going to keep chatting. I could have took off with your doctor and not even the great Sherlock Holmes would have been the wiser.” Smiling, Gillion let his hand over John’s mouth drift towards John’s throat, putting him in a chokehold. Sherlock reacted by tightening his grip on the gun.
“You didn’t call for...backup...didn’t you Sherlock?” John asked, hesitating due to lack of air. The only response he received was Sherlock’s eyes darting down to him and back to Gillion. You’ve got to be bloody kidding me, John thought as he tried to adjust himself in the chokehold. He’s going to be the death us.
“I’m sure you already know who I am, Sherlock, so I’m going to skip the greetings, but it is an honor to finally meet you both in person. It’s a bit better than seeing you in the papers,” Gillion said, “But I will say. It was not as exciting as I though it was going to be.” Looking away from Sherlock with a disappointing look on his face.
“Well?” Asked Sherlock, “What exactly were you expecting?”
“I’ll tell you what I wasn’t expecting. This,” Gillion pointed to both John and Sherlock with the barrel of the gun. “I wasn’t expecting this. It was too easy! Even for you, Sherlock. This seems too easy!” With the gun in his hand, Sherlock took a step forward. His eyes stuck on Gillion, looking for any hesitation in the man’s movements.
Unable to find any, Sherlock knew he was running out of options. As Sherlock stepped forward, Gillion pressed the barrel of his gun harder into John’s head, attempting to stop Sherlock.
“Don’t come any closer Sherlock or you’re going to get a quick version of what I’m about to tell you.” Seeing his friend trying to hold in the pain as the barrel was pressed even harder to John’s head. Not wanting to harm John anymore and intrigued by what Gillion said, Sherlock stopped.
“Go on,” Sherlock demanded, gun still trained on Gillion. “Tell us the long version. I’m sure we all want to hear it”
“Sherlock...a bit not...good.” Choked out John. Finding it hard to breath with Gillion’s arm wrapped around his throat. Even with a gun to his head, John still tried to keep the mood up, but resulted in Gillion tightening his grip to John’s throat releasing a wheeze.
“You seem real anxious to share something with us, Gillion.” Sherlock could sense the impatience radiating off of Gillion as every second went by. He found the hesitation. Just keep him talking Sherlock though. Without lowering his gaze and gun, Sherlock continues, smirking while doing so. “Let us here it.”
With a slight smile, Gillion spoke. “You still have no idea, do you Sherlock? What my mission is?” Gillion stopped to let it sink in. “Let me tell you this. Everything I want is in my hands right now. A gun an—” Before Gillion has a chance to finish his sentence, sirens could be heard in the near distance.
“You...Bloody idiot...You called them...didn’t you?” John stammered out.
Looking to both John and Gillion Sherlock let out a quiet, “Maybe?” A small smile crept up on his face, but not on Gillion’s.
Pressing the gun even harder into John’s skull, earning a small groan, Gillion, for the first time this night, looked frantic. Then, suspiciously, Gillion calmed down as if his body rebooted. Sherlock’s smirk faded from his face when he saw the change.
“You know. My boss always liked the police. Thought of them as funny little puppets running around. He could lead them to anywhere he wanted and they wouldn’t even bat an eyelash because they’re not like you and I. No. No, no, no, no. There are only three of us Sherlock, and your dear doctor here is not one of them. He sent me on a mission and I will complete it.” Who sent Gillion? Gears started to turn in Sherlock’s head. Gillion was more than just a serial killer killing for fun. He has a mission. And his mission was right in front of him. John?
Gillion’s trigger finger twitched, John started struggling, and Sherlock held his breath.
“Ta, Sherlock!”
A gun shot is heard and a struggle ensues. Then, the pattering of rain is heard on the roof.