Read Murder with Lens: A Sherlock Holmes Case (221B Baker Street Series) for Free Online Page A

offering a greeting. “Yes.”
    Sherlock made a soft and inarticulate sound of concurrence.
    The bell for the ground floor rang. Sherlock and Reese walked out shoulder to shoulder, and continued through the lobby – coats swaying or fluttering in their wake. They didn’t speak but the odd word, but each seemed to extrapolate the meaning of the other.
    Donovan made a disgusted face, “Looks like they’re bonding: Freaks of a feather. Adorable. Soon we’ll be able to mop up the blood of whatever death-orgy she’s going to lead him on, because I hardly think she cares about the victims here either. I didn’t ever think I’d meet someone as psycho as Holmes.”
    John ignored her and looked at Lestrade. “Where are we going for the body?”
    “Islington.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Apparently, those criminal geniuses like to be comfortable.” Lestrade zipped up his own coat against the rain and they dispersed among the parking lot, targeting cars. “And, leash, mind your manners around the girl, would you? It will do Scotland Yard no good to offend the CIA.”
    “Sir, I’m begging you, don’t call me that,” Donovan turned his way. “Those people are from a galaxy far, far away. The less we have to do with their weirdness, the better.” She paused and shouted, “Hey, Freak, my car’s over here.”
    Sherlock said a few parting words to Reese. She nodded and smoothly eased her way into the car beside her. John got in the back of Donovan’s to wait for Sherlock. He slid in the other side and sat still for a moment. Then he hunched. He seemed dazed.
    John bent over him a little. “Are you okay?”
    After a moment, when the car was moving, Sherlock replied, “I don’t know, yet,” he paused for thought for a moment more and then added, “Wow.”
    ***
    They went to a bookstore – Shady Angel Bookstore, in fact.
    John got out and huddled in the rain until Sherlock caught hold of Donovan’s umbrella and yanked her bodily over to shelter him. Donovan didn’t appreciate it, seeing as it had involved Sherlock touching her, but she liked John, and they stood companionably in the rain. Sherlock walked out into the downpour and waited for Reese to disembark the car parked behind Lestrade’s.
    “Let’s see how you do where the rubber meets the road, as they say.” Holmes muttered.
    As they made their way, John caught hold of Sherlock’s sleeve to steer the tall genius inside. Police scowled at him, openly. The animosity seemed more evident, and much worse, now that Sherlock had a badge. Or was this more likely to be about the market value of a deductive genius? Lestrade had certainly been uncomfortable talking about it. That made John smile. Doctors could pull in a lot of money, but Sherlock, on the right case, could make a working man’s salary in two days.
    Inside, Holmes dripped everywhere – on stacked books, on the wood floor, on counters, and people’s shoes – every time he moved rain splashed around him, until John had enough and took off his long coat. Holmes barely noticed this action. He was too engrossed with the shop. Lacking any better surface for it, John slung the coat over the sales counter. He dropped his scarf to one side.
    When the front door shut, it was oddly quiet, and John could make out the tail end of Sherlock’s soft muttering, “-not part of the crime scene. Neat as a pin up here. Crime scene is downstairs.”
    “Yup,” Reese grunted from close behind him. Her eyes combed through the book stacks lovingly. Her voice was almost a whisper as she passed John, “Love it. Love this place. I always wanted to run a bookstore.”
    “Don’t be absurd.” Special Agent Young told her. “And I’ll be upset if you allow yourself to get distracted by nonsense.”
    Reese’s lips compressed into a line and she cast a look over her shoulder at the woman, but she dutifully got back on track. She followed Sherlock to the narrow stairs at the back. They led down a truly claustrophobic case to