The Smarter One

The crime scene was a mess. A horrifying mess.

The poor victim had had his neck slit from behind. The force had been so great that it had almost separated his head from his body. Blood was everywhere. On the floors, on the walls, on the goddamn lamps! Lestrade watched with mixed feelings as his team worked around.

They'd been called in just before 7 that morning. The victim, a man in his early 40's, had been murdered sometime during the night. But the security tapes had been wiped by someone who knew what they were doing and there were no witnesses.

And, of course, the location of the murder were a bloody nightmare.

'The house of the goddamn Parliament. On a Sunday..' Lestrade shook his head. The press conference would be a nightmare. A man murdered in the building housing the british government.

And if that wasn't enough, they had no leads as of yet.

That could ruin anyones Sunday.

"Sir, a mr. Holmes is asking to see you." a younger officer, Lauren something, walked up to him. It was her first murder case, and Lestrade couldn't blame her for being a little green around the mouth. He himself felt like vomiting every time he was called to a case like this. Murder was one thing, couldn't they at the very least keep it clean.

He frowned. "Sherlock?" that caused the rest of his team to look up, all with tired looks on their faces.

"Why have you called him? We've hardly even started!" said Donovan, voicing the irritation he knew every person on his team felt when he called in the consulting detective. Anderson looked offended. Apparently his own surprise of this turn of events was evident from his face, because Donovan quickly followed up on her own question.
"You did call him, didn't you?"

"I haven't called him, sergeant Donovan." Lestrade was confused. How could Sherlock positively know about this murder? They hadn't even been here an hour, and none had left the building since they arrived.

"Sir, what shall I tell him?" Lauren asked again, clearly nervous about the word exchange from the older policemen.
Lestrade sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Just get him. Bring him to me, do not let him interrupt the crimescene before I've talked with him."

He watched her walk around the corner before he turned his attention back to the victim.

Why would anybody murder a politician here? It seemed rather risky, considering the amount of people working here. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Lauren return with their uninvited friend.

"Excuse me Sir, Mr Holmes for you sir." she interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up, annoyed.

"Okay, how the hell.." his voice trailed off as he got to look at the man in front of him.

"Good morning inspector Lestrade." Mycroft Holmes sounded amused, and Lestrade quickly stood up, wiping the look of confusion off his face.

"Mr. Holmes. Ah, sorry 'bout that. Thought you were.." Lestrades voice trailed off as Mycroft smiled pleasantly, although a bit cold.

"One could understand why. But that is not why I am here detective inspector." the older Holmes looked at the body next to them. "Do you know what has happened here? Or do you require assistance?"

Lestrade didn't know what to say. "Are.. are you offering to help?" he asked careful and quickly regretted his words. Mycroft looked positively insulted.
"Of course not inspector. I can't waste my time on matters like this. Your men have already taken the statements from both me and my assistant. I don't see how I can help any further than that."

Lestrade sighed. Of course the older Holmes would get insulted from being asked about helping to solve a murder. Figures.

"Then why are you here mr. Holmes? I'm sure you have more important work to do than standing here chatting with me next to my staff and the victim."

The words caused Mycroft to overlook the people working around the victim. They'd all followed the conversation between the – for them – unknown man and their chief. They met his eyes with little kindness, his rudeness against Lestrade already having made up their minds about him.

"I just asked – do you require help? As I could understand from your colleagues, the security cameras have all been wiped and there are no witnesses. But as the CCTV covering all of the exits from this building haven't been wiped there is the possibility that your killer still is among us. You are not letting anyone out of the building because of that very reason so there is no way for you normal source of help to know about this unless you or another among your staff chooses to. None of you seem very eager to do so – can't imagine why – which is why I'm offering to do it. I happen to know that he is bored and not on a case at the moment and therefore most likely to solve this rather quickly. So inspector, I ask again – do you require help?"

Lestrade watched the man carefully. Mycroft Holmes weren't one to offer anything to anyone without it having some value to him. Then again, why not accept the offer if it meant the annoying politician would get out of his hair.

"Yes." he said, already regretting it as he watched Mycroft turn around, walking away while already dialling a number on his phone.

"Make sure he can gain access when he arrives. Shouldn't take more than around twenty minutes." he said as he continued on walking away from the crime scene, with his assistant hot on his heels.

Donovan walked up to Lestrade when their visitor had vanished around the corner.
"Who was that?"

"Politician." Lestrade avoided the question and thankfully she didn't pursue it. He was pretty sure none from his team knew about Sherlock's brother and he preferred to keep it that way, for the sake of law and order. Having to deal with one Holmes could be bad enough.

The forensic team continued their work and just when they were about to deliver the final statement of the crime scene a deep voice they all recognised drifted down from the nearby hallway.

".. so sulky John. You've been complaining ever since Thursday. I'm getting fresh air, just as you've been telling me to do."

Sherlock Holmes came into view, followed by a less than pleased looking dr. John Watson.

"All I'm saying is that this isn't what I had in mind." he replied, but Sherlock had apparently lost interest in his opinion as the police and the murder victim came into full view.

Sherlock looked around, spotting Lestrade walking towards them.

"Ah, Lestrade. I heard you were having trouble with a case?"

"Who let you in?" Lestrade demanded, eyeing the consulting detective with a questioning look in his eyes. Sherlock could be a damned pain when he decided he wanted something. Especially if it meant breaking into a top political institution. Which had all exits guarded by the police.

Sherlock looked as if he was about to answer, but instead his focus landed on Anderson. His face fell.

"I hope you haven't messed up all the leads Anderson." he said, ignoring Lestrade as he knelt down beside the victim.

Anderson opened his mouth, but a look from Lestrade caused him to shot it again. He did however send a murderous glare at Sherlock as he retreated, allowing the amateur detective to work.

"Who is he?"

"A Daniel Morgan." John supplied, looking at the papers handed to him by Lestrade. "41. Have been working here for about 15 years."

Donovan walked up beside Lestrade and John who were both watching Sherlock work around the body.

"I thought you said you didn't call him." she said icily.

"I didn't." Lestrade replied. She looked at him, frowning.

"Then who did? That man you talked to half an hour ago?"
Lestrade didn't answer, which caused Donovan to scoff and wait for the newest insults from their favourite detective.

A few minutes later Sherlock stood up, turned around and walked up and down the corridor for a few times.

"You know where his office was?" he asked, turning to Lestrade, demand in both voice and eyes.

"Of course." Lestrade replied, a little insulted.

"Show me."

Sherlock poked around the office for a few minutes, before vanishing out the door, going back to the crime scene. He took one final glance at the dead man, then turned to Lestrade.

"That was rather dull. Next time Lestrade, don't call me on a Sunday unless it's more interesting." he announced, causing John to shake his head, the forensic team to look insulted and Donovan to step forward. Lestrade lifted his hand, stopping her."

"If you would just tell me what you've gathered that would be most helpful."

Sherlock looked like he would refuse for a second, just to spite them. Then he turned towards the body.

"The man is a late night worker. He's in politics which of course requires him to stay late sometimes. But this man, he works almost every night at his office, why not at home?" Sherlock, turning around. Lestrade shrugged. "How'd you know that?"
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "His clothes tells you everything – neatly cleaned and dried, that's a dry cleaner, not his wife. Here, why not at home?"

"Maybe he needs something he can only access here. This is our government you know." Donovan pointed out, clearly not impressed so far.

"Also, he's not married." Anderson shot in from the sideline.

Sherlock shot him a look, a mild surprised look on his face. "Maybe there's hope for you after all." he remarked, returning his attention to the body, pointing out his deductions.

"No wedding ring. A man in his position and no wife? That's unusual. Maybe he haven't found the right one yet. Maybe he can't have the one he loves. Or it's the more obviously fact that he is gay."

"How can you know that?" asked John, eyeing the dead man with interest.

"The books in his office, his manicured nails, the type of products he use in his hair – catch up John, when was the last time you had your nails done?"

John shook his head, and muttered under his breath, causing Sherlock to look up. "What?"

"Oh nothing." John answered, his tone little too calm. Clearly even Sherlock noticed this as he stepped back. "Did I say something?"

"Look, never mind that!" Lestrade cut in, drawing Sherlock's attention to him.
"So he's a late night worker and he's gay. Who killed him?"

"Why, his lover of course. That is why he always works late at night. Few people in, they could spend time together without getting caught."

"Then why would his boyfriend kill him?" asked John, looking at the dead man with sadness in his eyes. Poor sod.

"Oh, I don't think the other one ever considered mr. Morgan here his boyfriend. The murderer is most like married to a woman, has a few children and most likely on the step of a major promotion."

"How..?"
"How I noticed? Well, for starters some of the items in his office were of high value but they didn't match with most of his others belongings. Therefore bought by a spouse or a lover. I believe that mr. Morgan here wanted to come out and show the world the real him. His lover, who couldn't risk both his family and career did the only thing he could think of. Waited one night for the hall to be empty and then he ended Daniel Morgans life." Sherlock finished, looking pleased with himeself.
"The evidence is all here. You should pull in mr. Oswald Laurens, his office is just down the same corridor as mr. Morgan."

They all looked surprised at this.
"How'd you know it was him?" asked John.

"Simply. I saw from the hallway that he had similar objects as the ones found in mr. Morgans office. Not to mention the fact that he looked absolutely terrified when I walked by."

Donovan frowned. "How would he know you?"

Sherlock turned his attention to her, a calculating look in his eyes. "You need'n worry abo.."

"Ah, Sherlock! Very good." a new voice interrupted Sherlock and they turned around to look at the newcomer.

Mycroft Holmes strolled down the hallway, with his assistant in tow. He was now dressed in coat and umbrella in hand.

"I trust you've cracked the case dear brother?" asked Mycroft as he started to put on his gloves.

Anderson and Donovan gaped, as did the rest of the police staff.

Sherlock regarded Mycroft with a cold stare. "Of course, Mycroft. It was easy. I'm surprised you even bothered to call me in the first place. You could just have told the police yourself."

"Ah." Mycroft regarded the body before turning his attention back to the people in front of him.

"While is was rather obvious how and why he was killed I couldn't really waste my time on such trivial matter now could I?"

Lestrade stepped forward, getting angry. One thing was to deal with one Holmes, now he suddenly had two! "Now, wait just a sec! Are you telling me you knew the whole time who've done this? And you didn't bother telling us?!"

Mycroft frowned, clearly not understanding his anger. "Of course I knew. But such things require evidence and while I do enjoy.. watching people like my dear brother I must admit that I find the whole ordeal of actually proving my observations quite.. tiresome." he sighed, raising his umbrella.
"But, now that the case is cracked and you have your murderer I assume that the rest of us are free to leave the building?"

"Well.. yes I suppose." Lestrade could feel a headache coming on and the fact that he had a smugly looking Mycroft Holmes, an offended looking Sherlock Holmes, an amused dr. Watson not to mention his staff who were all gawking like fish didn't exactly help.

Mycroft nodded. "Sherlock, would you be good and walk with me? I have some questions to you regarding our mother's upcoming birthday." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but stepped up beside Mycroft, walking beside him as they headed for the main exit, Anthea walking right behind them. She hadn't looked up from her phone even once.

"Does she require a present this year too?" they heard Sherlock ask before the two brothers disappeared out of sight.

"The hell just happened?" Anderson breathed, disbelief in his eyes as he turned his attention to their boss.

"Tell me.." Lestrade said, looking at John ".. did he call you and Sherlock in, to solve a case which he already knew the answer to, so he could be allowed to leave the building?"

"It would seem so. He does take the phrase 'lazy' to a whole new level, doesn't he?" John looked quite amused by the situation before he caught a glimpse of the dead mr. Morgan. He coughed, suddenly embarrassed.

"Well, I better get going to. Good luck with the court case. Greg, always a pleasure."

John stared to walk away just as Donovan seemed to find her voice, causing him to stop.

"Are you telling me that the freak has a brother? Who does the same freakish thing as he do? And that he works here, in Parliament?" the police officers all felt an involuntarily shiver – a Holmes, in government. Now, that's a scary thought.

John looked at her, smiling. "Mycroft's the smarter one. He is the oldest after all. Not that Sherlock very much enjoys to be reminded of it."

"We could, should arrest him on charges of hindering police work!" Donovan supplied, almost sounding desperate to at least lock one Holmes away for good.

John shrugged. "You could. But Mycroft Holmes doesn't work in the government Sally. He IS the british government. He could have you all relocated to another country before lunch if he wanted to." and with that he walked away.

The shocked policemen all turned their attention to Lestrade, as if begging him to say that of course John was pulling one on them.

Sadly, he couldn't do that. Truth and all. He did what he did best when the Holmes played tricks on the minds of the lesser humans. He shrugged.

"Can't argue with that. Well, we better go pay mr. Laurens a visit."

All in all, it had been a quite exhausting Sunday.

Just an idea. I love Mycroft and don't think there's enough stories out there about him.