A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.
Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.
This is a case fic. Lots of focus on the case and some character dynamic/friendship along the way. No shipping. It is also a sequel to my previous case fic, "A", so if you haven't read that one, this one will probably not make much sense. At least the Joan B story. This story takes place in a separate universe from "In Plain Sight", though it can be considered a prequel.
Chloe Butler is one of Joan Watson's former clients. She appeared in the episode 2x11 "Internal Adult".
Once again, he was there, surrounded by the fellow addicts. He looked them over, both trying to find some comfort in their presence and having to control his mind, trying not to "read" them. Eventually, he spoke up.
"My name is Sherlock and I'm an addict", he exclaimed, sounding almost embarrassed that time.
"Hi, Sherlock", they all replied in union.
He remained silent for a moment, biting his lower lip and thinking his prepared speech over. "I often wonder about... the efforts that we make", he admitted, looking at others in an almost hopeful way. "Every day. Are those... the testament of our sobriety, in a way? I guess that depends from person to person. No matter how much I hate to admit this, I was hardly at my best work while... not being sober. I assume that is one more reason to pursue it... because of our connection to the society. I guess you can say that we don't owe them anything... we couldn't have chosen whether to be born or not, or when and where... That way, the whole human life, this world, appears pointless. Maybe it is. I guess, that is the excuse that many addicts use. No offense. But still... I've always felt that there is more to this world. Despite all of it's flaws", he concluded, sighing slightly as he did.
#
Soon after, he was in the hallway, putting his coat on-together with Joan. She rarely accompanied him after she stopped being his sober companion, but she would still go sometimes.
"So, how was it?", Joan asked, trying to appear positive.
Sherlock sighed. "Rather depressing." He looked away. "And, sadly, better than the last time."
Joan rolled her eyes and was about to head to the door when she saw a familiar woman approaching her. "Joan?"
That was Chloe Butler, a tall brunette that Joan hadn't seen for almost two years, since she and Sherlock investigated the murder of Donald Houser. A look on Chloe's face was the one of worry and her hair was a bit of a mess.
"Chloe!", Joan cried. "What are you doing here?"
Chloe looked her in the eyes as her cheeks blushed. "I need your help, Joan."
Sherlock's ringtone went off. He pulled out his phone and checked the text. "They need us in Maple street", he read. "An apparent suicide, but there are some... uncertanities."
Joan appeared confused. "Oh, I..."
"It's OK", Sherlock assured her politely. "Stay and talk to your... friend. I can hail a taxi", he said, pulling out his whistle proudly.
#
Within half an hour, Chloe and Joan were sitting at the table in a small diner, opposite to each other, both sipping some coffee. "I now work at a really nice family", Chloe informed Joan, who smiled. "I have recently become a sponsor myself", Chloe explained timidly, looking away as she did.
Joan smiled. "That's great! Congratulations!"
Chloe blushed. "Thanks." She sighed. "Well... that's what all this is about." She pulled out her phone and handed it to Joan. A photograph of young, brown haired, slightly overweight Caucasian man was featured on the screen. "Hal Redding, twenty four. He started dwelling into alcoholism after his father died in a car accident, finally decided to get clean and started going to the meetings, starting as of about a year ago. I have become his sponsor two months ago and he appeared to be doing well. He still hasn't gotten around to trusting me completely, but we are working on that." She cringed. "We were getting better... he's been missing for three days now."
Joan glanced at her, feeling a bit concerned. "Three days?"
Chloe sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "He didn't show up on a meeting, he isn't answering my calls. His apartment is locked, I don't have an extra key. I contacted his mother, his only surviving family. He isn't at her place. She doesn't know anything that could help me." She took a sip of coffee. "Apparently they only hear from each other a few times every months. He mostly only visits on hollidays. No activity on his social media sites either. Or anything suspicious there, it would appear."
Joan frowned. "Why don't you contact the police?"
Chloe shook her head. "You know they usually don't take such things seriously. And I don't want to risk him getting into trouble in case he really isn't in danger and he has just done something stupid." She sighed. "That may as well be. As far as I know, he doesn't have any enemies, no ties to any gangs, no criminal records except for being arrested for being drunk and disorderly a few times. He mentioned a new girlfriend a few times... a hair dresser, blonde, her name is... Natalie, I think. But I have never met her and I don't know anything else about her. I know that you and Sherlock work for the police but also as private detectives so..."
Joan nodded her head, the understanding starting to settle in. She took a sip of coffee. "I understand. I'll help you. We'll have to search his apartment first."
Chloe leaned closer, lowering her voice. "How are we going to get inside?"
Joan smirked. "I have my ways."
#
Thomas was bringing Sherlock up to speed as the two of them were walking into the living room in the victim's house, followed by Marcus. "Mandy O'Reilly, twenty nine", he started. "Worked as a Math professor at city college. Her live in boyfriend arrived home from work, found her hanged. There was no pulse. He tried removing the ligature, but the knot was too tight and she was cold... he called 911. He's really distraught."
"Understandably", Sherlock said.
Thomas frowned. "Where's Watson?"
Sherlock sighed. "You know... old friends, old responsibilities... present absence."
They stopped upon reaching their destination. The body of a young tall blonde woman was hanging from the drape cord tied to the living room luster, close to the wrtiting desk, a chair laying on the floor near by.
"Well, I doubt that I am here to investigate a likely suicide", Sherlock said as he started examining the body, previously peeking into the few drawers.
Thomas sighed. "Well, her boyfriend swears that she wouldn't have committed suicide, and also claims that he saw a strange person moving around their house in a black SUV a few days earlier, though he can't provide a better description."
"Leave no stone unturned, huh?", Sherlock commented before taking a step back. He pointed at Mandy's clothing. "All of her clothing appears to be quite tidy. But the chest area and the sleeves on her T-shirt are all wrinkled." He looked under her waist. "And there are some fresh scuff marks on the soles of her shoes." He looked down at the floor, pacing around the room. "There are also some slight but visible scuff marks on the floor too, leading from the writing desk to the, I daresay, murder sight."
He examined the victim's hands carefully, from both sides and under her fingernails. "There are no scratches on the inner sides of her hands, nor fibers on that area or under her fingernails, that would almost certainly remain there if she used such a cord to hang herself. The marks on her fingernails show that she had been biting them a lot recently. A possible sign of stress", he noticed before looking down at the chair. He examined every inch of it carefully, then gently picked it up and moved it to stand under the body, before putting it back in it's original position.
"The height of the chair seems consistent with the suicide scenario", he informed the others, looking around. "As well as the position. Very carefully estaged. But there is no evidence of anyone having stood at it's delicate, clean coverage and then knocking the chair over. No scuff marks, no scratches, no dents, no dust. It is spotless."
He took one more look at the body, his face suddenly lighting up. "If you look closely, you will notice that her nose and forehead are of a lighter skin tone than the rest of her face. Small discrepency, but an odd one."
He immediately pulled out a clean paper tissue out of his pocket and started rubbing it over Mandy's face carefully. Eventually, her skin tone was back to normal, with a hardly visible but evident stain on the paper material, that he showed to the captain. "A make up", Gregson exclaimed.
Sherlock nodded his head, still looking at the body. "It seems to be consistent with some items in the make up kit that I have found in one of her drawers. But according to these photographs, she would never apply that type of make up, on only that area. And there would be no reason for her to do that." He walked back over to the body, pointing to her face. "And you may notice a small bruise and some scratches on her forehead and nose. They appear fresh."
Marcus frowned. "An abusive relationship, maybe?", he suggested.
Sherlock shook his head. "Well, the injuries don't appear to be severe. I haven't found any older injuries. I doubt it."
He took one more look around the room before walking to one of the closest photographs on the wall, showing Mandy and her boyfriend posing on a hiking site together, then turned to face Thonas and Marcus, pointing at Mandy's sneakers (featured on the photograph).
"Look at this photograph. And many others." Thomas and Marcus walked over, frowning as they did so. "At her sneakers, to be exact. She always ties them in a very particular knot." He turned to look at the windows, his face blushed with excitement. "The same one used to tie all the curtain cords in this house." He quickly turned towards the body again. "It is a shear opposite to the quite common and potentially unstable knot used to tie the noose around her neck and to tie another end to the luster."
Before neither Thomas nor Marcus were able to comment on that, he moved over to the writing desk, looking down at the drinking glass and running his fingers over the circles on the surface of the desk, around it.
"I have smelled traces of Cola on her lips", he explained. "The smell of Cola in this drinking glass on the writing desk near the computer is fading, but still noticeable. I think that it has been sitting here for the last four or five hours. The still wet and sticky rings on the desk show that it had been raised up and put back down on the table a few times recently. She was drinking it at around the time of her death, probably while sitting at this writing desk. She was likely working on the computer shortly before her death too."
"Probably writing a suicide note", Thomas concluded, kind of cynically.
"Or something else", Sherlock mused as he leaned over and studied the surface of the desk closely. He even smelled it. Eventually, he straightened himself up and took a moment to sort his thoughts before speaking.
"Traces of smeared sweat on the surface of the desk near the keyboard", he exclaimed, pointing to the stains on the desk. Thonas and Marcus walked over, trying hard to see what he had spotted. "Wiped away pretty well, but not well enough. Transfered recently, judging by the odor. The position seems to be consistent with... well, a human forehead and there are also spreckles of make up that were applied to her, on the desk as well as on the chair."
"Somebody slammed her head against the desk?", Marcus theorized.
"The injuries don't seem to be consistent with that", Sherlock said determinedly before a curious look sparkled in his eyes. "But if somebody were to knock her unconsciousness or drug her, and her body would fall forward..."
"But you've examined her neck and head and found nothing suspicious", Thomas pointed out.
Sherlock's face fell. "That is true." He then leaned over and quickly examined "My Documents" program before turning to face Thomas and Marcus again. "According to her computer records, she saved a draft of an essay shortly before her death. Shortly before "writing" a suicide note. Why would somebody do such a thing before killing oneself?"
He looked around some more, noticed an MP4 on the table near by, picked up, quickly examined the data.
"Her MP4", he exclaimed and quickly checked the data one more time before looking up at his friends. "The records show that she was listening to the music at around the time of her death. Pretty cheerful one. Even less consistent with the suicide theory." He put the MP4 down on the table, his voice lowering, almost for a dramatic effect. "But if she was listening to the music and working on her computer with her back turned to the back door, that would make it easy for somebody to sneak up to her from behind and knock her unconsciousness. Especially if he, or she, were to sneak in through the back door."
He moved toward the chair again and studied it, as if visualising something. "Taking in the account her height and the height and the position of the chair in front of the desk, her neck would have been completely exposed", he deduced, gesticulating in the process. He bent over and examined the keyboard, running his finger over some of the buttons and then examining the residue on his latex glove. "An expert karate blow to the back of her neck would have certainly done the trick. The subsequent hanging and death due to a broken neck or a lack of oxygen, or combination of the sorts, would have concealed any previously caused injuries to the neck or the brain."
"So, our killer knows karate", Marcus said sarcastically, writing that down. "That is a clue, I guess."
"There are some scratch marks on almost every button on this keyboard", Sherlock explained, raising his hand. "Fresh, judging by the traces of paint dust around them. They seem to be consistent with the tip of the pen, but don't match, in shape or size, to any pens that I have found inside the house." He furrowed his eyebrows. "They are positioned close to the middle and most consistent on the buttons containing the most common letters in the suicide note. I think that the killer typed it with his or her pen in order to avoid smudging Mandy's own fingerprints. Using an USB on this type of computer would have left an electronic trace."
"So, our killer is good with computers too?", Marcus wondered.
Sherlock nodded his head. "Very interesting person, it would appear", he replied before turning to examine the lock on the back door, inside and out. He used a cotton swab to swab the lock from the inside. He then disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind. He remained there for a while.
"What are you doing?", Thomas asked just a moment before Sherlock returned, closing the door behind.
"The killer must have gained access to the victim's home", Sherlock explained, not looking up. He soon moved to examining the lock on the back door. "You were right, there are no traces of breaking in. At least in the way of locks being damaged." He ran over to Gregson and Marcus, showing them both the cotton swabs. They both contained a brown groundy material on them. "But I recovered small traces of modelling clay on the victim's house key, inside one of her coat pockets, and inside the lock on the back door." He began storing the swabs in the plastic containers, still giving the summation. "The killer must have stalked her, managed to steal her house key, make an impression into the clay and then put the key back in the original place before she could notice. He later poured some melted iron inside the impression, thus making the copy of the key. Some traces of clay remained on the copy. He used that copy to get inside today. Interesting thing: one of the inner pockets on Mandy's coat, that I found in the closet in the bedroom, is more worn out than the others, and there are traces of ink inside, but no notebook or pen in there or in any other pockets."
He handed the containers to one of the near by forensic techs and gave him some quick instructions before continuing. "The killer sneaked inside through the back door using the copy of the key, sneaked up to Mandy while she was listening to the music and working on her computer with her back turned to him or her, knocked her unconsciousness with one strong but precise blow to the neck. He found her make up and applied it on her face in order to conceal the injuries that he had created while assaulting her, did his best to clean up any suspicious traces, put the make up back where it was, probably put on a new pair of gloves, took one of the certain cords, dragged Mandy to the place under the luster, and hanged her. He dragged the chair from the kitchen and positioned it on the floor near the body, wrote a fake suicide note, printed it, probably made sure that the victim's fingerprints will be found on it, left the note on the writing desk, and left through the back door, closing and locking the door behind, after making sure that every other window and door in the house had been closed and locked too. To perfect the illusion of suicide.
He walked back over to the writing desk and started searching the drawers.
"A bottom drawer. A magazine on the top. Another one underneath. Impressions on the bottom magazine that seem to be consistent with the laptop or a tablet. Yet, I have found no such piece of technology in here or anywhere else in the house, or even a matching charger."
Marcus sighed. "I don't know about any of you, but all this is only making me more suspicious od the boyfriend."
"Yes", Sherlock agreed. "But he wouldn't have needed a copy of her house key." He stood up and started flipping through the date book, his eyes quickly scanning the information that it contained.
"Nothing suspicious in her date book", he explained. "Nothing relating to the day of her death..." He suddenly stopped, having noticed something interesting on one of the papers near the end. A blank one. He frowned and ran his fingers over it.
"There are some impressions here", he said, pulling a pen out from his pocket. "On a very smell area of the paper, even though the previous page is completely full."
"Maybe somebody had ripped the final page", Marcus suggested while Sherlock started running the pen over the page, making the impressions visible. Soon enough, the lost note was recovered.
""Outnumbered" incorporated", Sherlock read. "A new, successful computer company."
