Sherlock Holmes 2 Novels & Stories

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" I didn't understand, and he lightly tapped a finger against my chest. "Can't you let me in?" My heart fluttered, and I suddenly realized that he had breathtaking eyes, ones that were like seas of stars. There, surrounded by the starlight, was me. However, I wasn't ready, the pain from my past life giving me pause as it flashed in front of my eyes. "I—" "Shh…" Carl put a finger to my lips. "I don't need an answer now. I enjoy the process of chasing after you, you know?

I picked. “Hello, Sir. We have a serious problem on our hands. I’m not sure who your wife is, but it appears as though you walked right into her trap. At the moment, two cars bearing the same name, color, and license plate number have come to a complete stop at a traffic light. I’m not sure which one is your wife’s car.” “It’s all right; you can stop pursuing her. She seemed to know that I might be following her. Abort the mission and return to your home. I will contact you again if I require your help.”

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

"One of the things he had on him when he was caught was a silver locket with a picture of twin girls inside. I was told they were about thirteen years old, with white hair and purple eyes." I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. "That's the last picture we had taken of us before..." Before I'd hacked my hair to my shoulders and did my best to forget who I was and what I could do. "The locket was Lills. She gave it to him for good luck right before he left." "It could've been stolen." I nodded. "Maybe. Is there no way we can find out for sure before we leave? Without involving Lillith?" "No. Even if we had time to interview the two survivors ourselves, it wouldn't make a difference. They've alre

Sherlock said. "Meaning?" "I can't tell you the plan for now. Just play along," Sherlock replied, and Vincent looked at him suspiciously. "You would regret it if I found out you've just been playing me, Sherlock," Vincent warned. Sherlock raised his hands in the air and smirked. "Trust me. Watch." He pointed at one of the strippers dancing on a pole and motioned for her to come. She walked up to them, and he whispered something into her ear. She smiled mysteriously before leaving to carry out the task.

I gasp in shock, “The necklace case in the safe?! You got it after Ava left it there?!!!” “Yep,” He ignores my shock and panic, opening the empty case to show me, with the proud look of a kid showing off his favorite toy, “Am I good or what?!” Deadpan, I land my eyes on the empty case: “What am I supposed to look at? The Emperor's New Necklace?” “Tsk,” He clicks his tongue with an unsatisfied look, rolling his eyes as if I’m the ridiculous maniac, “Look at the sunken shape where the necklace was, Sherlock.”

They were beginning to hurt her sight. “That was Anton on the call.” Abel informed and couldn't help but wish he was being taken instead of little Molly. Seeing Madeline in this state broke him. He had never seen Madeline break down to this extent. Her face was so sad and it ached him from inside. How he wished he could wipe her tears by returning Molly back to her but there was only so little he could do. He had no money nor connections to fasten the case. Now it was only up to the police to investigate and bring back some fruitful news.

Most sociopaths are, according to all the movies I watched. "If I was Vincent, where would I hide a key?" I say aloud to the empty room. My eyes scan the immaculate surface of Vincent's desk, frustration building as I find nothing out of the ordinary. Just as I'm about to give up, my fingers brush against a slightly raised edge. Intrigued, I press on it, and to my surprise, a hidden drawer smoothly slides open. Holy shit! This is so cool! Did he steal this desk from the movie set of Sherlock Holmes?

one of the officers warns the others, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. Unaware of the shadow trailing him, David seems to be searching for something in that abandoned place. Here, out of sight, I follow every move with bated breath, eager for any sign that Aaron and Laureen might be nearby. A murmur comes over the police radio, indicating that they've found something. The suspense builds as the team stealthily approaches a rusty door. David, still absorbed in his own thoughts, remains unaware of the presence of the officers.

She beamed at him. Even Bertha seemed to defrost a little. “Can we give some cookies to Jack too?” the little girl asked the housekeeper. As Bertha produced a second container, William Price appeared in the doorway. “Detective Sullivan. I should be able to talk to you now.” So Jack left Maddie and Bertha to pack the containers and followed the man back to his home office. Mahogany-paneled walls, floor-to-ceiling bookcases, a sprawling desk, an antique globe bar—the place looked like a movie set from a period movie about the English aristocracy, the smoking room where the gentlemen withdrew for cigars after a dinner party.