Sherlock Holmes verhaal

Onno Schimelaar

Enola and John arrived and put the suitcases in the living room. John closed the door and the three of them ran down the stairs. Sherlock hailed a cab and they took the back seat. It just fit. John wanted to start a conversation, but Sherlock immediately motioned for him to be quiet. He stared at the back of the driver's seat, deep in thought. Enola looked out the windshield at the streets of London. John said nothing but stared from Sherlock to Enola and back. "Sorry," John said. "Hush," Sherlock said. 'And don't stare. “So there was silence for the rest of the cab ride, until they arrived at the flat. They got out. They were standing in front of a high 80's flat. The entrance was cordoned off with a red and white ribbon. There were 3 police cars surrounding the building. One of the officers present approached them. "Where is it," Sherlock said before the man could say a word. "3rd floor, 4th door." "Are people there already?" "Only Lestrade. Without another word, Sherlock walked past the officer into the building. Enola stared after him in amazement. John looked at the officer. "Thanks," "Come on, Enola." John said. "Doesn't he ever say thank you to people?" Enola asked as they ran up the stairs to the third floor. "Never." "But that's weird." Not for Sherlock. Trust me, he's going to do even weirder things.” Enola looked concerned. "Even weirder." Yes.' 'Such as?' They arrived on the third floor. "Come on," John said, ignoring Enola's question. They walked to the fourth door and opened it. Lestrade was in the corner across the street. Sherlock circled the body. "When was she found?" "Tonight. Her flatmate returned earlier from family visits. When she opened the door she saw the body. 'Where is she now,' John asked. 'She's with the neighbor.' 'Can I speak to her?' 'I think so.' Lestrade took John out of the apartment. And then suddenly Enola and Sherlock were in the room together. The detective squatted down next to the corpse and picked up a magnifying glass. Sherlock and Enola on one side, John on the other. He examined the body carefully. "And... Do you have anything?" Enola asked cautiously. "There are 5 possibilities," Sherlock said. He looked a little closer. "No, 3. "Enola examined the apartment carefully." No, there are 2 options left," Sherlock said, getting up. "Well," said Enola, tell me."Okay. Theory 1 is that the perpetrator was already in this room when the victim, who by the way is called Bob Ross, walked into the hallway to answer the phone. After she hung up, she was stabbed. Theory 2 is that the perpetrator had to come from somewhere. But where?' 'The window,' said Enola, 'The window had been tampered with from outside. “Look.” She pointed Sherlock to the broken piece of wood. The detective examined it carefully. "A chisel," he said. “He used a chisel to pry this open. But he also took this one with him again.”So the trail ends here.” Except this woman was also stabbed with a serrated knife the same size as the one from that hotel murder from the other day. But in that hotel murder it was not clear how the perpetrator could get in..." “Maybe the casino murder and this murder are linked. Maybe it is the same killer!”

It was 8 o'clock in the morning. John sat in a chair and stared straight ahead like a zombie. Sherlock wasn't there. He had gone to the casino to check if the window there had also been opened with a chisel. Enola sat in the chair opposite John and surveyed the room. There were two windows. In front of the left window was a music stand with music paper on it and scattered around it on the floor. The other window was clear. One of the walls was completely occupied by bookcases. Next to the chair where she now sat was a fireplace. 

Enola sat opposite John, who looked like he could fall asleep right away. A door slammed downstairs. Hasty footsteps sounded on the stairs and Sherlock entered the room. "It's right," he cried. 'Everything is right! It's the same killer! John, wake up! We're going for it!" "How do you know who the killer is," John asked sleepily. "I don't know," Sherlock said, "we'll have to find out! “He ran around the room and out the door again, down the stairs and the front door slammed. John struggled to get himself out of his chair and grabbed his coat. 'Come on, Enola,' he asked, 'when Sherlock is on a roll, you better follow him. Enola smiled and took her coat off the hook. Then she ran down the stairs with John. Outside, Sherlock waited impatiently. He had already stopped a taxi. When they came out, they were able to get into the taxi right away. On the way to the station it was dead quiet again in the taxi. When they got there, Lestrade was already waiting at the entrance. "Come with me," he said. They walked to the office. Lestrade turned on his computer. Meanwhile, Enola looked around. Here and there colleagues stood together drinking coffee. More than half didn't seem to be there. "Here it is," Lestrade said. He showed two documents. One from Bob Ross and one from Michelle Steward. The age differed.

Sherlock sat on the desk chair and read the documents carefully. "That's it," he cried then. He jumped up and ran to the elevator. Lestrade looked after him. "What is it?" he asked. Enola looked at the documents. There was one thing the victims both had in common. "They're both PDs." "Is that all," Lestrade asked. "No," said Enola, "They've both been investigating Onno Schimelaar." "So they've both been investigating Moriarty," John said slowly. “How many cops have been investigating him?” “Uhh,” Lestrade said. He typed in and the search results popped up on his computer. “There were six of them, including you and Sherlock.” And suddenly Enola saw it. She was sure. "Give me their names," she said, "now!" Lestrade printed out the document. Enola snatched it from his hands and ran for the elevator. There she stood impatiently waiting. As soon as the doors opened, she jumped in. "She's starting to look like her brother already," Lestrade said. "Is that a positive or a negative," John asked. "Depends on how you look at it," Lestrade said. "Go after her quickly, before she does look too much like her brother and do stupid things." Enola ran to the taxi stop, where one of the cars was already waiting. “Lancaster Street,” she said, “and quick!” The cab pulled away right in front of John's nose.

He quickly hailed a taxi as well, with orders to follow the other taxi. He was just sitting in the back seat when Enola called. "John, you have to go to Gainsford Street NOW! Hurry. Go there NOW. I'll be fine.' 'But ... 'Now, John, NOW!' The taxi driver changed course immediately and turned around. Enola arrived at her destination. She rang the bell. Long. No one answered. He wasn't home. Or worse... Enola took a step back and looked at the window. There was no light. She reached for her cell phone and tried to reach Sherlock, but he didn't answer. "Damn it," she said. She quickly ran to the apartment where Steve Griffin lives. He also assisted in the investigation. She knocked. There was a cry of pain and then a hasty shuffle. Enola didn't wait any longer. She took a run and kicked in the door. A man lay on the ground. He had a bloody wound in his thigh. The perpetrator had missed. Enola crouched next to him, but the man waved her away. "Go after him," he said, "it's not that bad." Enola climbed through the window. From here she was able to climb onto the roof. So she did. As fast as she could and as best she could without looking back, she grabbed a ledge and pulled herself up. She found traction with her foot and pushed off. With some effort she was on the roof. She looked around and saw a figure turn the corner to another roof. She started running. Her heart rate was unnaturally high. She had hurt her hands on the sharp ledge, but she kept running. Up to the edge of the roof. There was a distance of 2 meters between her and the roof where the perpetrator was on. She sighed, took a deep breath, walked back, took a run and jumped. Enola flew through the air. It looked like she was going to make it but she didn't make it. Out of reflex, she grabbed the edge of the roof. She looked down. 4 floors… She tried to pull herself up but couldn't. When she looked up, she saw a hooded figure standing in front of her. “Who are you?” asked Enola. “Who am I?” I thought you knew that by now. I am Onno Schimelaar's son. You killed him. This is my revenge. Enola's phone rang, it was Sherlock Holmes. Onno Schimelaar's son told her to pick up and say everything was fine. Enola answered and said everything was going well. She remembered that if something ever went wrong that she and Sherlock had a code word. So she quietly said, Vatican Cameos, Sherlock hung up immediately. Enola tried to keep the conversation going because she knew Sherlock was coming. 5 minutes later, Enola heard a very loud bang. Sherlock Holmes stood behind Onno Schimelaar's son. Sherlock had shot Onno Schimelaar's son. Then he helped Enola up. Enola said Steve Griffin needed help. Sherlock called an ambulance and sent him to Steve Griffin. After Steve Griffin was helped, they went home.