This is a crossover between Sherlock and Lockwood and Co. (duh ;-p ) Lucy and the bunch are asked to a murder scene to clean up, when they meet the great Mr Holmes.
The phone rang at 3am. Seriously, when would we get a break? It was Barnes, and there had been a murder. At least that was new. We were being called to clear the site of sources and anything that could bring back a ghost.
"Come in, agents," Barnes greeted us quietly. "I want to introduce you to someone." There were bags under his eyes and his moustache drooped. Clearly, someone didn't get much sleep either.
As soon as we had entered the house, we saw the body, and around it, people I had never seen before. A man in about his forties - he was greying, but retained a youthful appearance - looked up and stood. "Hello, Inspector Barnes. Are these your. . . agents?" He said the word with a kind of disbelief. As if we were just little children who didn't understand what was going on.
"Yes," the men shook hands. "Lockwood, please introduce your agents to Inspector Lestrade. I need to talk with some of the psychics." Lockwood turned to the man and held out his hand.
"Anthony Lockwood, head of Lockwood and Co." Lestrade shook his hand.
"And your agents?"
"Yes, these are my agents. Lucy is my listener, and George is our head of research."
"Ah, nice to meet you three. Anthony, could you come this way? Bring your friends." I could see Lockwood visibly cringe the way he always did when anyone called him his first name. Well, anyone but me, but that's another story.
Lestrade led us over to a pair of men around the body. Oh, the body. It lay in a pool of blood, which was oxidising, into a thick, dark mess. The face was ashen and dry, and the skin looked as if it had been stretched over the skull. The fingers faded into purple towards the tips, and were stiff and straight. The chest had been slashed into a ribbony mess of blood and flesh and fabric. Lockwood pulled me towards him with a strong arm, and I tore my eyes from the corpse to the two men surrounding it.
One was deeply engrossed in the crime scene, bent knees and keen eyes, the other watching him with a humoured expression, arms crossed. Stranger #2 is the first to notice us, and walks over, a coffee in his hand. He has smile lines around his eyes and mouth, which gives him seem kind, and he's just a bit taller than me, but shorter than Lockwood. His fleece vest matches the sandy colour of his hair, which is kind of cool, I guess.
"Are these the psychics?" He asks the inspector. I can't help rolling my eyes a little. Lestrade chuckles and shakes his head.
"Nah, they're the agents, John. They look for anything that could be a source."
"Ah, so they need to look over the body."
"Yes. Sherlock should be able to help." I sigh. If we have to be handed over to different hands one more time I would just go and do my own thing. The first man, Sherlock, stands now, and the first thing I notice about him is his height. He towers over me like a ghost light. The second thing I notice is his long dark coat, with its collar turned up. His frame is thin, and his cheekbones are prominent below piercing blue eyes. Dark tousled hair frames a sallow face, and long, pale, bony fingers steeple together in front of a delicately thin nose.
"Ah, this is Lockwood and Co., I presume."