Time to Steal the Spotlight

Just like that, she had connected with Sherlock? Only moments ago, she had been wondering how to join the crime-solving team without drawing attention or meeting resistance from the great detective.

"How did you know it was botulinum? You haven't even seen her body. And what did you say to Lestrade when you left?"

Sherlock watched the streets race past the car window, glancing at the girl beside him through the driver's rearview mirror.

"Nothing much. Just a few guesses for the inspector to check. I don't know if they're right yet. You'll find out later."

"As for botulinum, maybe... girls are more interested in that sort of thing. She worked in the media, too, so when Aunt Hudson mentioned her, it came to mind."

Sherlock fiddled with the camera, looking thoughtful. "I hope my guess is right."

As soon as they got out of the car, Sherlock raced toward the villa with his long legs, paying no attention to anyone else. Sitangna's legs weren't short either, but Curly Fu strode so fast that she struggled to keep up.

"This is him."

When the handsome manservant Raoul heard they were reporters here for an interview, he eagerly ushered them inside. The old man in the purple silk shirt was still fixing his hair in front of a mirror. There was no sign that he had just lost his own sister.

"Are you Mr Prince? It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, thank you."

With his bag slung over one shoulder, Sherlock strode forward to shake the old man's hand. Sitangna followed at his heels and nodded to Mr Prince.

"I'm terribly sorry to intrude for an interview at such a sad time for your family..."

"Yes, you're too kind. It's all right, ask whatever you like. Though I'd better stand sideways. It'll make me look slimmer."

The two of them kept exchanging pleasantries, so Sitangna awkwardly edged over to Watson. Sherlock had a skill for pretending to be human; she didn't. Even at her age, she still struggled with the pleasantries exchanged by elders and couldn't get a word in.

"Sitangna, you came too? That wretched Sherlock. He won't even leave a young girl alone."

Watson had stood up when the two arrived. When Sherlock came over, the three formed a circle and whispered together.

"I heard that, but she came of her own free will. I didn't force her."

"Did you, Sitangna?"

"Uh... I guess so."

"You don't sound very willing."

"Enough nonsense. You were right. The bacteria entered her body another way."

"Really?"

Sherlock's lips curled up. "Yes!"

Watson was very confident in his judgment. The three kept up their disguises, picked up their respective props, and gathered around Mr Prince.

"Mr Prince, what do you usually like to eat?" Sitangna switched on the voice recorder and began recording. Prince cleared his throat and named a few foods he liked.

"Um... Mr Prince, what animals do you prefer? Are you a cat person or a dog person?"

"Me? I prefer cats."

Click, click.

Sherlock snapped away at random, taking photos without any apparent method. The flash made Prince frown slightly.

"Not too close. I'm afraid my eyes will water. Oh, remember to cut that out."

Sherlock was checking the photos he had taken when a hairless cat walked up to his feet. "Who's this?"

"Her name is Sekhmet. She's named after the Egyptian goddess," Mr Prince explained.

"How lovely. Was she Connie's?"

"Yes, I gave her to her as a present." The old man picked up the cat for Sitangna to stroke. The well-behaved cat gently rubbed against her fingers.

"Sherlock, could you check the lighting?" Watson gave Sherlock a look, signaling him to cause a distraction. The two exchanged knowing smiles, and the next second the camera clicked right in Prince's face.

"Damn it, what are you doing!"

"Miss reporter, please cut that out too."

While Mr Prince was distracted, Watson quickly sniffed the disinfectant between the cat's claws.

"I think we've finished our work. Sorry."

With his theory confirmed, Watson grabbed Sitangna and made a quick getaway, Sherlock close behind. They left a bewildered Mr Prince behind, spreading his hands at Raoul in shock.

"Is that how they work? They didn't find out anything! What newspaper are they from? They're so unprofessional. I'm definitely steering clear of them!"

Outside, Watson's infectious laughter made Sherlock and Sitangna laugh too. Once a man with a psychosomatic limp, he now ran ahead in excitement, moving with remarkable ease.

"Bril! Liant!" Watson was pleased with his discovery.

"You think it was the cat? It wasn't." Sherlock already understood and teased Watson.

Watching the two walk faster and faster, Sitangna wailed inwardly, Slow down!!!

"What? It was. It definitely was." Watson saw no problem with his deduction. "That's how he got the virus into her body. There's a smell of disinfectant on its claws."

"Interesting idea."

Mindful of Sitangna jogging behind them, Watson deliberately tugged Sherlock back and slowed his own pace, still stubbornly sticking to his theory. "He put disinfectant on the cat's toes. That must be it."

"It's a new pet. Rubbing against her all the time, it was bound to scratch her," Sherlock explained with rare patience.

"What do you think, Sitangna?" Watson looked past Sherlock, who was between them, and turned to Sitangna, hoping for some additional support.

"When I saw the wounds on her arm, I thought the same thing. But the odds of that are too low, and her brother isn't that clever either," Sherlock pointed out again.

"He murdered his sister for her money." Watson still stuck to his theory.

"Did he?" Sherlock asked.

"Didn't he?" Sherlock's repeated denials made Watson doubt his deduction.

"He wanted revenge." Sitangna, who had barely spoken, spoke up again. Sherlock's step faltered for a moment, but he quickly continued.

Sitangna: Sorry, I stole your line again. (grins)

"Revenge? What do you mean? Who wanted revenge?" Seeing that Sherlock clearly agreed, Watson felt like he was the outsider in this case. These two smartasses were obviously making fun of him!

"Raoul, the manservant."

"Mr Prince was the target of his sister's ridicule, the one who was truly humiliated. In the end, he couldn't take it anymore and broke with her. It's all online."

"She threatened to disinherit Kenny, but Raoul had grown accustomed to this life."

Sherlock finished in one breath. Watson stopped him to ask about something that puzzled him, and the three of them came to a halt on the main road.

"Then what about the disinfectant on the cat's claws?" Watson pressed.

Sherlock steadied the shoulder bag slipping off him and looked at Sitangna. Watson looked at Sherlock, then followed his gaze to Sitangna.

Sitangna's eyes lit up. Thanks for the cue. Is it my turn to perform now?

"Raoul keeps the house clean at all times. Every floor I saw was polished to a shine. Watson, you smell of disinfectant too, but the cat herself doesn't."

"So the smell on her claws probably came from the floor. Look, even their cat is hairless, which makes her easier to care for."

Sitangna's English actually wasn't very good, but the half-blood identity the system had given her made up for that shortcoming. It came with a built-in bug that let her speak both languages without difficulty.

"Yes. By comparison, Wulaer's online records are a different matter. I hope we can still get a cab here." The subject changed without a moment's pause. The god of taxis cast his spell again, and Sherlock went to the curb to hail a cab, with a frustrated Watson and an innocent-looking Sitangna behind him.

Watson sighed heavily, looking quite helpless. "You knew all along? Why didn't you say so earlier? It makes me look stupid."

The taxi took them to Lestrade's police station, where Sherlock handed him the latest results from the autopsy.

"The real killer is Raoul de Santos, Kenny Prince's manservant."

"The second autopsy confirmed that Connie didn't die of tetanus, but of the botulinum toxin Sitangna mentioned earlier. Take another good look at it."

Sherlock leaned close to Lestrade's ear and whispered teasingly, "We've seen this before, with Carl Powers. Tsk, tsk. The bomber's played the same trick again."

"Then how did he do it?" Lestrade couldn't work it out at once. He needed to know exactly how the suspect had committed the crime.

"Botulinum injections."

"Botulinum?"

"Botox is diluted botulinum. Besides doing the housework, Raoul was also responsible for giving Connie facial injections."

"My contact at the Home Office gave me all of Raoul's online shopping records."

Sherlock pointed to the stack of documents Lestrade had taken. It contained not only both autopsy reports, but also a transcribed copy of Wulaer's shopping records that had been faxed over as evidence.

"He'd been ordering large quantities of botulinum for several months. Bit by bit, he finally accumulated a lethal dose."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure."

"Come on, to my office."

Watson, who had been listening, couldn't help shaking his head. He laughed in anger. These people really were playing a game, and no one cared about the poor old woman at all.

"Sherlock, how long?" He reached out to stop Sherlock, who was following close behind the inspector.

"What?" Sherlock was too absorbed in solving the case to pull himself away.

"How long have you known? That hostage, the elderly lady, still has a bomb strapped to her." One of the reasons for Watson's enduring popularity was his good and kind nature.

"I knew I could save her, and I knew the bomber gave us twelve hours. If I solved this case as quickly as possible, I'd have time to investigate other things." Faced with Watson's confusion, Sherlock showed rare patience.

"Don't you understand? This time, we're ahead." If they still couldn't find any trace of the bomber, everyone in London could be in danger at any moment. Sherlock had no desire to be led around by the nose by him.

With that, he entered the office, ready to enter his answer on the computer.

"Wait, don't send it yet. Just wait a little longer." The forgotten Sitangna followed them in and called out to Sherlock as he prepared to type. She looked at Inspector Lestrade questioningly, and he understood at once and made a call.

"You found them? Good. Keep me updated on the bomb disposal."

Lestrade hung up and shared the latest news with Sitangna.

"We found the apartment where the hostage was being held an hour ago. A surveillance officer just tracked down a sniper using infrared, but he got away. The bomb disposal team is working now, and all innocent people in the apartment building and the surrounding area have been evacuated."

Yes, Sitangna had found the apartment on a map using the location of the gas explosion mentioned in a news report later in the story. The police weren't as foolish as she had imagined, either; they had kept the citizens safe without alerting the enemy.

Sitangna remembered that the explosion had claimed twelve once-living lives. Film and television needed dramatic conflict in their plots, so there was no point quibbling over it. But since this world truly existed, treating lives so carelessly right in front of her was very bad. She wouldn't allow it.

The police had made a major effort to capture the sniper and pursued him closely. That kept him from immediately warning the mastermind and gave the bomb disposal team more time.

"That's incredible. You dealt with the hostage situation before any of us knew anything?" Watson's expression softened considerably when he heard that the bomb was being defused with the hostage under police protection.

He cared more about the living than the dead.

"How did you know where the hostage was?" Sherlock rested both hands flat beside the laptop. Without more clues, even he had no idea where the hostage was.

It was strange. She seemed to know everything. Compared with him, forced to play a game with the bomber, she seemed more like she was playing a game, one with this world as its theme.

Sitangna planted her hands on her hips and laughed in her head. Bet you didn't see that coming. I came here specifically to play a murder mystery game.

The system had mentioned that the mission points in other worlds later on might not follow the plots she remembered. She had to cherish this temporary golden finger that let her know what was coming.

Besides, given that bastard Moriarty's personality, once he learned of her existence and what she had done, he would surely create additional cases that would outrage both heaven and earth. She had to conceal her abilities somewhat; there couldn't be too many unplanned mishaps.

"Secret. If you really want to know, I'll tell you all about it when we get back." Sitangna didn't understand Sherlock, but she understood human nature well enough to keep him in suspense.

All right, she was faking it. She had merely read a few books on social psychology and knew a little basic psychology, that was all.

Ding-dong.

Before Sherlock could reply, the pink phone sounded again. This time, though, it was a text alert.

[M: You're cleverer than I imagined. How interesting. I didn't expect you to add another formidable member to your team of helpers. Give my regards to your two assistants. Look forward to it, my dear great detective.]

Everyone saw the text. At that moment, a song began playing in Sitangna's head.

"A nemesis is a nemesis~ A nemesis can't become a wife..." Stop! What kind of nonsense was in her head all day?

Meanwhile, Lestrade's phone rang too.

"That's wonderful. Thank you for your hard work. Check the surrounding area again for suspicious people before you leave, and report any unexpected developments immediately."