Chapter Three: Abigail's First Case

Sherlock was the first one out of the cab when it pulled up to Scotland Yard. Abigail was forced to pay cabbie and hurry in after him. His long legs and long strides made it hard for her to keep up, but she tried her best to do so.

As they entered Scotland Yard, Lestrade quickly came up to Sherlock to talk about the case. Sherlock mindlessly walked towards Lestrade's office, only half listening to what Lestrade was saying. Abigail walked not too far behind the two before Lestrade finally noticed her.

"Wait, who's this?" he asked.

"She's with me," Sherlock replied, almost avoiding the question. "Where's the suspect? I'd like to speak to him."

"You didn't answer my question. Who is she, Sherlock?" Lestrade repeated. Abigail stepped past Sherlock and extended her hand towards Lestrade.

"Abigail Watson," she said and shook Lestrade's hand. "I'm a friend of Sherlock's."

"A friend," questioned a female officer that had just entered Lestrade's office. "Sherlock doesn't have any friends."

"Well, I believe I just introduced myself as 'Sherlock's friend'," Abigail said, facing the female officer. "Therefore, I am his friend which means Sherlock does have friends."

The female officer glared at Abigail before extending her hand and saying, "Sally Donovan."

"I don't care," Abigail said with a smile before walking away. Sherlock didn't try to contain his proud smile as he watched Donovan huff and walk out of the office. Damn, he thought. She's good.

"So," he said to Lestrade. "This suspect. Are we going to meet him or not?"

Lestrade nodded, still in shock with Abigail's encounter with Donovan. He led the two towards the interrogation room. The suspect's name was Angelo. He was a bigger man with a beard an a mustache and his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was looking at his hands, which were handcuffed to the table. It took Sherlock a second before stating, "He's guilty."

Lestrade looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"But not for what you've charged him with," Sherlock added. Lestrade looked completely lost. Sherlock sighed. "Why are people such idiots? Abigail, do you see where I'm going with this?"

"I think so," Abigail said. "You see, he's looking at his hands. He's too shy to look at the glass or anywhere else because he's guilty, but if he had done this crime, he'd have more confidence. He's guilty of A crime, but not THIS crime."

Lestrade still looked confused. Sherlock looked at Abigail and rolled his eyes.

"What's it like having an average mind? Must be horrid," he commented. "Let me put it so you can understand. Angelo didn't murder those people, but he has committed some sort of crime. I'd still like to question him, though. Maybe we can get him to open up about whatever that crime is."

Lestrade shrugged. "Be my guest."

Sherlock nodded and looked at Abigail. "Come along, Watson."

Abigail raised her eyebrow, but didn't protest. She was on a role so far. She had managed to figure out what Sherlock was thinking, which made her rather proud of herself.

Sherlock threw the door to the interrogation room open. Angelo jumped and looked up at the two. Abigail was trying to give him her best reassuring smile as Sherlock made his way over to the table and slammed both hands down, causing both Angelo and Abigail to jump. Sherlock stared right into Angelo's eyes, giving him a glare that could make anyone talk.

"Listen here," he said. "I know you didn't kill those people. My partner here knows and even Detective Inspector Lestrade knows. But what I also know is that you did commit some sort of crime. So if you fess up right now and tell us what crime it is, you won't be charged with triple murder and you'll have a shorter sentence."

Angelo looked from Sherlock to Abigail. Abigail decided to stay off to the side and watch Sherlock's process. As she had just met him, she didn't know what he had planned and she didn't want to ruin whatever he was doing.

Sherlock stayed with his eyes locked on Angelo, who was crumpling under his glare.

"I didn't do anythin'," Angelo finally managed. He had a thick Irish accent. Not from around here, Abigail concluded. "I didn't kill those people and I didn't do any crime."

Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh and looked at Abigail over his shoulder. Abigail looked up at him. They shared a look and a thought. He was lying.

Abigail decided to step in. Sherlock's method to scare the information out of Angelo wasn't working. Yes, he was scaring Angelo, but not into making him talk. Plus, if Abigail was going to work with Sherlock, which is was evident she was as he called her his "partner", she'd have to have some experience in getting information out of people.

Abigail walked up and put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He looked over at her and read the look on her face. It was telling him to leave. He stood up, cleared his throat and nodded before leaving the room. Lestrade was still watching the interrogation from the other side of the one way mirror.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"She has a plan," Sherlock said and turned to watch Abigail slowly sit across from Angelo.

"Can we trust her?" Lestrade asked.

"I do."

Lestrade kept looking at Sherlock in disbelief. He trusted this girl and sounded as if he cared for her. Sherlock and caring in the same sentence was a rare thing, almost like a unicorn.

Abigail folded her hands and looked at Angelo. His eyes were set on his hands again. Abigail smiled, trying to get him to come out of whatever shell he was in.

"I'm sorry about my partner," she said. "He takes the whole 'bad cop' thing to seriously sometimes."

She let out an awkward chuckle. Angelo smiled a bit as well.

"It's alright," he said.

"Where are you from? I'm only asking because your Irish accent is strong."

"Dublin. I haven't been here long."

"Well, welcome to England. Sorry you have to be chained up to a table."

On the other side of the mirror, Lestrade was whispering to Sherlock, "She's good."

Sherlock looked at him and corrected, "She's great. Hard to believe this is her first case." Lestrade had a look of shock on his face. "What? You haven't seen her with me before, have you?"

"Are you telling me your bringing someone you just met onto a serious case?"

Sherlock didn't reply. His eyes were trained on Abigail and Angelo once again. No matter what Lestrade said, he trusted Abigail. He knew he could.

"Listen, Angelo. You're in here for a serious crime and if my partner and I can't prove that you didn't do this, you're gonna go away to jail for a long time for a crime you didn't commit," Abigail was saying. "So please, can you tell us what crime it is that you committed."

"How do you know I committed a crime at all?" Angelo asked.

"It's sort of...complicated. But we do know."

Angelo looked Abigail in the eyes. Abigail looked back, but not with the hard and scary eyes Sherlock had used. Her eyes were soft, almost motherly. Angelo sighed and looked down at his hands.

"I have a phone," he said. "It is in evidence, but if you manage to convince the police to give it to you, it should help you with what you're looking for."

"What's on the phone?"

"You'll see."

Abigail bit her lip. She contemplated demanding to know what was on the phone, but she had managed to get this far by being sweet and Angelo trusted her now. Finally, she nodded and thanked Angelo for his time before getting up and exiting the interrogation room. She was met by Sherlock and Lestrade.

"Do you have the phone?" she asked Lestrade.

"It's in my office," he replied.

"We'll need it," Sherlock said. It wasn't a question or a request but a demand.

"It's evidence, Sherlock. Whatever is on it might be able to lead us to the real murder. You can't take it."

"You heard what Angelo said. 'If you manage to convince the police to give it to you'. He wants US to find out what's on it, not you. So can you go get it for us," Sherlock said. Lestrade let out a frustrated sigh, but went off to his office. Sherlock directed his attention to Abigail. "I've done this more than once with him."

"I've noticed," Abigail said. The two followed Lestrade back to his office. "Did I do good with the interrogation?"

"Fantastic," Sherlock replied. "Compassion. Nasty emotion unless you need to use it."

"Depends on why you're feeling it."

Sherlock looked down at Abigail for a split second, but quickly looked back up as Lestrade returned with the phone. Sherlock took it and put it in his pocket and started for the door. Abigail thanked Lestrade to make up for Sherlock's lack of manners before racing out after him.

Sherlock was already hailing a taxi when she arrived. It was getting late and the sky was beginning to darken. A taxi pulled up. Sherlock opened the door, but stopped turned to Abigail.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"I think I'm gonna call it a night. Enough excitement for one day," she replied. "It was nice meeting you, Sherlock. Shall I come by tomorrow and see what's on that phone?"

Sherlock smiled. "I was hoping you would."

Abigail smiled back. "Then it looks like I will."

"It looks like you will. Well, good night Abigail. Rest easy."

"You, too, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock nodded and climbed into the taxi. Abigail waved as the taxi took off down the road for Baker Street. Abigail hailed her own taxi. She climbed in and told the driver her address. She drove in silence, thinking about the day. It was an excitable day and she couldn't lie, she had lots of fun. She couldn't wait to return the next day and help Sherlock find out what was on that phone.

The taxi pulled up to Abigail's apartment building. She payed the driver and got out. She fished for her key in her pocket as she ascended the stairs, counting each set as she did. One set, two set, three set. Third floor, fifth room on your right.

Abigail came up to her room and paused for a moment. The door was half propped open, meaning someone was inside. Her parents didn't have a key, so she ruled them out. Harry did, but she would call if she was coming to visit and John was still in Afghanistan. The only remaining option was a burglar.

Abigail took a deep breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart and pushed the door open. The lights in her apartment were off. She groped the wall, looking for the switch only to have the lights turn on by someone else.

"Ah. Abigail Watson, I presume."