The Blonde


John wrote the information from the last employee in his notebook. He'd interviewed all seven of them. They each had an alibi and none of them had seen anything, but the painting couldn't have simply vanished. He was missing something, but he couldn't figure out what it was. If Sherlock had been there he'd probably have solved the case by now, but an hour and a half in and John didn't have a clue.

"Can I go?" the brunette asked.

She was sitting in the chair with her arms folded and her legs crossed. She'd been the worst of them. At first he thought he might ask her out for a bite, after the case was solved of course, but she was annoyed that she was being questioned at all and she didn't mind voicing that. Repeatedly. Although she worked at the auction house she was also the owner's daughter and how dare anyone question her about anything.

"Yes," John replied without looking up.

She grabbed her purse and stalked out of the room. John slid his pen and notebook back into his pocket. At least all that was out of the way and he could finally head home. He turned around to leave the room and came face to face with Mycroft.

"Finished with the interviews?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes, just now. I was about to-"

"Go over the room. Yes, I know."

Go over the room? No, Sherlock could do that tomorrow. He was heading home.

"Actually, I thought Sherlock-"

"Could have a look round tomorrow? Naturally, but it would put the owner's mind at ease if you had a look tonight."

"I don't see why it would matter."

"Of course you don't, but it does to him, which means it does to me."

"Okay. I'll have a look then," John said, taking a step toward the doorway.

"There was something I was wondering about though," Mycroft said, stopping John.


"That girl you mentioned earlier."


"Yes, that's the one. A friend of yours, is she?"

"No," Mycroft eyed him. "Um, no…what I meant to say is yes. She's a friend of mine. I mean, I haven't known her for very long or anything, but she's nice."

"Yes. Nice girl. You said that already."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Where did you meet her?"

"At the flat."

"She came by your flat?"


"To hire my brother?"

"No…um…" Actually, now that he thought about it he didn't really know why she came by. Appeared. Appeared in the flat. Those were Sherlock's words.

"No?" Mycroft gazed at him for a moment and then he smiled. "Ah, well, as you said she's a nice girl."

"Yeah," John said, slowly. "You're not…concerned are you?"

"Concerned? Why should I be concerned? As you said she's a nice girl. Obviously she'd have to be to agree to look after my brother, especially given that he's ill. She must be a very dear friend indeed." Mycroft held out his hand. John took it, mulling over what the elder Holmes said. They shook. "I'll be off now, but I look forward to speaking with you and my brother tomorrow."

John watched as Mycroft walked out of the room. Should he be worried about his friend? According to Sherlock she had appeared in their flat. That couldn't be the case. She had to have come from somewhere, but it would be enough to get his friend interested. John decided it didn't matter what Mycroft wanted, he needed to get home and check on Sherlock.

Standard Disclaimer.

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