Chapter 1: The bloodthirsty Beast
It was the second crime scene Sherlock was visiting without John this week and the third victim the newest serial killer of London had left behind. He couldn't understand why it was more important to work at the surgery than to come with him to a crime scene. It wasn't the prettiest of sights either: the killer's murder weapon was, as strange as it sounded, a wolf or a big dog. Sherlock and the police couldn't name the exact species. The only thing they were sure about is that it was a dog/wolf with a jaw strong enough to tear pieces of flesh from the bodies; but the paw prints were fare too big to belong to a dog or a wolf.
The lab results of the DNA found on the victims was not significant. The only thing that was clear was that the fur was black, it had sharp teeth and claws and it was at least the size of a pony, a big pony. But nothing neither the bodies nor the crime scene were able to tell Sherlock why John didn't want to accompany him.
He focused his mind again on the latest victim, a young woman not older than twenty. One of her arms was missing or better the arm was found 50 meters further away. Blood was everywhere between her body and where the arm lay. Traces of claw prints could be seen on her torso and it looked like the weight of the beast (Sherlock couldn't find a better name for it) had broken her leg as it stepped on her.
There wasn't any new clue, he couldn't find anything useful or different to the other crime scenes. There was no evidence for the presence of another person. The killer must have cleaned behind him but then the question was 'why not getting rid of all the evidence'? Why leave behind prints and fur when you could disappear completely? But the even better question was 'how does one tame such a big, strong and apparently wild animal to kill for you'?
Lestrade and his team were not really helping, that was the reason he was there. Because the police wasn't able to solve it alone. Not that Sherlock had shown much success so far. But without John next to him Sherlock couldn't really enjoy it. No John meant no praise, no friendly touch on his shoulder, no helping hand or a strict voice telling Sherlock when he was 'a bit not good'. He took a last look around, checking that he had seen everything and left without saying goodbye to the DI. These social things were 'dull', a waist of time. Why should he then?
Before he could go back to Baker Street he had two things to attend to.
The first one was at Bart's, where he wanted to ask Molly if she had found anything new. She was in the morgue where she was examining the second victim again. She looked up as he opened the door. A quick flash of red ran over her face but disappeared as fast as it had appeared. Molly straightened up and gave Sherlock a shy smile.
"Oh, hello Sherlock. You are here for the case, right? Sorry to tell you this but I couldn't find anything new or helpful. I just finished with the second victim. But maybe when the new one arrives I will be able to find something. I will let you know." She said quickly and nearly without babbling. She had changed her behavior around him in the last few months. Not that Sherlock would give her more or less attention. He thought she had finally overcome the crush she had on him.
"Thank you, Molly. I will keep in touch." To her he would always be nice, not only because he needed her to gain access to the lab, but also because Sherlock liked Molly even if not in the way she would have liked.
"Sherlock, where is John?" She again looked a bit unsure. Molly knew that he hated useless questions and small talk but this time it hurt him a bit. John was missing. He missed John and the people around him too.
"At the surgery, he had to go to work this morning." And with that he left not looking back.
The second stop was at the university; where he met two professors for zoology. After showing them the food prints, the fur, a blood sample and a dental imprint they couldn't help him.
So they sent him to expert of extinct animals. What was already a bit of limit for Sherlock and after the 'expert' had examined the evidence he was sent to a crypto zoologist.
And at that point Sherlock was no longer interested to listen to a so called expert. He didn't like to listen to the tales about wolf-like creatures that were man and wolf. Oh, come one, werewolves! He already had to deal with the incompetence of the police almost on a daily basis and his clients were most of the times idiots but a werewolf in London? Enough was enough. The cases Sherlock worked on often had many strange and at a first sign mystical causes but werewolves, no. There had to be another explanation for this.
Discouraged and without another idea where to go next he went home. He hoped enlightment would come when he reread the case files. Or maybe a comment from John would direct him in the right direction. Something like that.
John was already at home sitting in his chair with a tea in his hand and watching the news. For someone who wasn't Sherlock it could look like a normal day in the life of the doctor. But Sherlock was Sherlock and could see the slightly shaking hands which held an already cold tea, the white face, the fearful eyes fixed on the screen and the generally stressed aspect of his friend.
The news was a report about the serial killer case Sherlock was working on. The reporter had already found out about the killer with the beast. Sherlock took the remote control and turned off the television. It was then that John noticed his flat mate standing right beside him. He sat down opposite John in his own chair, eying his friend and waiting for a reaction. After a moment where John managed to somewhat collect himself, the doctor got up and walked into the kitchen.
"Would you like a tea? I came back just a few minutes ago." Sherlock knew it was a lie but he said nothing and accepted the offered tea.
