The Forgotten
Chapter 1-
"Why can't he leave us alone? Surely he has something better to do?" The first voice moaned.
"Sherlock, you may think you know a person, but in truth, you don't know them at all" A second voice said.
"Hm. Why waste time thinking you know anyone. It is better by one's self." The first voice chuckled.
"Cold as ever I see." The boy in front of them stared, wide eyed like an insect caught between window wipers. Someone sneered.
"Get out of here rat face. Go find Mummy- Oh wait! You can't. She's six feet under with maggots in her fat mouth. What a shame. That's exactly where you belong." The Second voice laughed, chuckling madly, his voice echoing away.
()()()()
The mutilated body of Rene Winters lay, hands entwined, on the cold concrete. Blood dribbled from the dark mess in her chest, impaled from behind and stabbed through her abdomen, some of it splattering the pale skin of her face, forever frozen in a look of pure terror. Sherlock frowned. Not at the bloody mess staining the floor crimson, but at himself.
Police surrounded her peaceful yet dark murder case. Taking photos of blood splatters and checking the body of the recent deceased girl. Sherlock felt that he knew her, but he couldn't recognise her. His frowned deepened, etching thick lines in his skin. John nudged him.
"Hmm?" The detective mumbled, stapling his hands together. The army doctor nodded at the corpse.
"Oh right." Leaving the army doctor to try and keep his lunch down, he knelt down beside the mound of ripped flesh and began searching the torn clothing.
"She obviously died from multiple puncture wounds to her chest" Sherlock announced. "The weapon seems to be a blunt butter knife, the multiple puncture wounds caused her to bleed out in a matter of minutes. Going by the yellow under her nails, she was a smoker, a heavy one at that. There is an empty packet in her pocket, one she bought today going by the receipt. The animal hair on her trousers suggests she has a cat. A large one, going by the length, but the traces of toothpaste on her top suggests he lives alone: no one there to point it out.
Sounds very ordinary. But someone wanted her dead, painfully. What was she mixed up with?"
()()()()
"Worthless pig. You should know better than to approach me. My family owns you, it holds a power you can only dream of. Isn't that right darling?" A boy said, his voice laced with poison.
"Yes. Leave him alone. You're nothing! Nothing. Even Sherlock Holmes agrees. So shut your ugly face and leave us alone." Another voice snapped, a girl.
"Go away. You're distracting me from my work." Came another. It seemed familiar somehow to Sherlock. A dark tone chipped with menace.
"Nothing can change what actually happened. It was your idea….."
()()()()
The voices ceased, Sherlock was released from the dream world and did not let Sherlock hear the name. He shook his head. Useless information. Likely an overheard conversation somehow linking itself to this case. Sherlock stuffed the information to the back of his mind palace. John came over to kneel beside him.
"Dreadful." He stated softly. The detective tried not to roll his eyes. What was the use in moping around? It would be even more dreadful if the killer wasn't apprehended. Why couldn't people see that? He watched John as he examined the wound.
"Why would anyone kill her and place her in this peaceful position, her dead was far from peaceful." John mentioned
"John, you may think someone is innocent, when really they are a murderer, waiting to stalk and kill" Sherlock articulated.
"Geez, Sherlock. You think everyone is a sociopath or a murderer."
"Everyone is a suspect. Guilty until proven innocent."
Sherlock eyed John, slightly shaking his head before turning back to checking the corpse.
"So, what've you got?" Asked a very pale Lestrade, with a take-away coffee cup clutched between clammy hands. Sherlock smirked.
"Not much." He stood up and whipped his mobile out.
"She's engaged to a business man, likely for his money rather than love. Going by the badge on her clothes, she worked for a local supermarket, in the centre of town. She's divorced once, and has three children, but in the divorce, the children went to live with their father."
"How the… never mind."
"Her workplace might be a good starting point." Sherlock stated, flipping through the markets website, and walking away to catch a cab. John scurried behind.
"Wait up!" Lestrade called, running to catch up.
"Is that it?" Sherlock glared.
"Well if you can do any better, I'm open to opinions. Though going by your past of unsolved cases, I doubt it'll be any help."
"What now?"
"Question her family. See if they know anything. I'm going to her workplace."
Lestrade sighed as the doctor and Sherlock left in the cab.
"So nothing was troubling her? Any arguments, annoying customers or odd behaviour?" Sherlock quizzed the manager of the supermarket.
"Nothing out of the ordinary but…"
"But?"
She swallowed.
"But there was this man that always went to her till, he kept pestering her. It seemed that he knew her but she refused to answer any leading questions, she mentioned that she did not know him, although it was clear that she did" She answered.
John nodded. The woman in front of them fumbled with her name tag that read 'Kelly', her blonde hair brushing the plastic. Her nervous energy was directed towards the strange detective beside him, who narrowed his grey eyes and watched the scene unfold. John couldn't blame her. He didn't look welcoming.
"Can you describe him" Sherlock asked.
"I'm sorry I can't. He may be on the CCTV. I'll go and check." The woman said, walking away behind a 'Staff Only' door. She beckoned them with a finger. John followed, with Sherlock examining the store behind him, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.
The door closed behind them, leaving them in a room of six T.V. screens, all showing parts of the store in black and white. A chubby man sat behind the desk, sipping coffee, his many chins flopping over his jacket. The cashier signed on to the computer, flicking through the recent recordings.
"That is him, stop the tape." The screen flickered to a pause. Sherlock leaned closer.
"Zoom in." the man enlarged the image. John frowned. On the screen was a lanky dark haired man in a sharp suit. His face was a jungle of sharp edges and harsh angels, cheekbones sticking from his cheeks like metal structures. He looked sickly. Like just carrying the carrier bags dragged down his entire world.
Sherlock blinked. He looked familiar somehow…
He felt that he knew this man, but he could not place the man's face. Sherlock wondered if he had seen the man around London, but it felt more personal.
"Recognise him?" John asked. Sherlock didn't answer. The woman beside them continued the video, showing the interaction between Rene and the man. He seemed to be talking to Rene, even after she had finished serving him, he gave in to her and left. Sherlock noticed that he barely showed his face, as if he was trying to hide his face, but show himself not to be suspicious. John raised his eyebrows at Kelly.
"And this wasn't brought to your manager as a potential safety risk?" She rubbed her neck and bit her lip.
"Well… It sort of was but…."
"But what?" Sherlock said. She swallowed, looking at the floor as if it would swallow her whole.
"I didn't want her to get into trouble for complaining so I um… Stopped her…"
"What!? That man posed a threat to her safety and you stopped her from telling anyone!?" John said.
"No no no, you don't get it. Her boss is… Strict, and extremely anti-feminist, if she'd gone to him he would've undoubtedly blamed her for wearing the wrong clothes or something. She might have even lost her job for showing prejudice to a customer. I tried to stop that…"
"And got her killed in the process?" Kelly's eyes filled with tears at Sherlock's comment.
"No. I- I didn't mean to. It- I never- There's no way he killed her-" a soft sob choked her sentence. John, nudged Sherlock and shook his head. The detective rolled his eyes.
"Thank you, you have been helpful" Sherlock said, turning to the door.
Kelly grabbed John's wrist.
"Please. Find Rene's killer, I loved her like a sister."
"We will" John promised.
"So she was harassed at work." John said, sitting in the back of a taxi.
"Well done John!" Sherlock remarked, flicking through a phone.
John looked out of the window, sighing at Sherlock's sarcasm.
"Hey, that doesn't look like your phone"
"That is because it isn't" Sherlock said.
"Then who does it belong to?"
"Rene."
"You stole a dead girl's phone! You took evidence from a crime scene!" John said.
"What the police do not know about, will not miss. They will believe that she doesn't own a phone."
"Phone records Sherlock" John almost screamed in frustration, almost turning his anger into a full blown temper-tantrum.
"Police will only look through the records if they have the phone to go with it. Relax John. I also stole her house keys!" Sherlock's eyes glinted with mischief.
"Jeez, Sherlock" John complained.
"John, if you want to break into an apartment, feel free to, but I have the keys."
"Okay, the police will defiantly notice the lack of house keys."
"Unlikely. They're far too busy chasing their own tails to pay much attention. Besides, I sent Lestrade to research her family history and connections. Seeing as the others are his sheep, it's unlikely they'll do much on their own." John frowned.
"I always wondered how they got to be detectives, with their shortage of knowledge." John said.
"You're learning John! I taught you well." Sherlock smiled.
London roared by in a blur of tyre screeches and engine groans. As the world flew by, John couldn't help but wonder how the coming events were to play out.
If he had known, perhaps he wouldn't have endeavoured to be a part of them.
Disclaimer: We don't own Sherlock L If we did, I would be holding Moffat hostage and releasing the special episode much quicker!
Also, this is set directly after the great game in case ya wondering J but they did not meet Moriarty!
Until the next chapter! J