"Your not still are still mad are you? " Sherlock looked over at John who had insisted on sitting as far for him as possible in the cab. He had turn his body to face the window. John turned to Sherlock a rare expression of anger on his face.
"Yes Sherlock I am still mad. You through a skull at me. Now I actually need this cane." He said wave his cane in his face. John was using his old crutch from his psychosamatic limp. Sherlock shrugged.
"He insulted me. It not my fault you were walking up the stairs as I threw him, and I said sorry."
"No. No, you didnt say sorry." Sherlock looked pensive for a moment.
"Hmm, I didnt did I? Well apologies John. Can you forgive me? "
"Fine." John grumbled. Sherlock smiled. John was always a sucker for when Sherlock said sorry. It might have something to do with how little he said it. He settled back into the seat of the cab. He was looking forward to this case. It was usually something big when Lestrade texted at 1am. Apparently normal *cough*boring*cough* people are asleep by this time. That and the fact that the address was in a high class neighborhood.
"Coming?" Sherlock was shaken out his thoughts to see they had pulled up. The house was nice, very rich. John was by the open cab door waiting on him. Sherlock slid out of the cab, and immediately started of in the direction of the house. Behind he heard John shouting.
"Sherlock it your turn to pay... hey get back here."
John limped through the doorway where Sherlock was standing.
"Took you long enough." He sighed.
"Lets not forget whats slowing me down, and I had to pay for the cab again. If you could just patient for once-"Sherlock tuned him out, and stalked up Lestrade and Donovan who were going over notes.
"What is it?" He directed at Lestrade.
"Hello Freak." Donovan wrinkled like she had smelt something bad. Sherlock didnt have a chance to reply before John spoke.
"Careful Sally, your face could get like that." Sherlock snickered, and Donovan shot them both evil look before stalking off.
"Dear God. One day just one day could you all be civil?" Lestrade pleaded.
"No, now will you show us the body already?" Lestrade rolled his eyes, and lead them through the house reading off a clipboard as he walked.
"Caucasian, male, 46, 511," He was still talking when opened the bedroom door. "Single gun shot to the- FOR GOD SAKES." Lestrade shouted, and stormed off in the direction of a loud crash. Donovan and Anderson were in the corner making a point to ignore them. Sherelock strode into the room. There was a man laying in the large posh bed up against the wall. He was on his back his face looking up at the ceiling. His eyes were closed, he never had the chance to wake up. There was a single gun shot wound the forehead, execution style. The gun was laying across the mans cheast most likely wiped of prints. There must have been a reason the killer left the the bed written in the mans blood was Sig Semper Teranus.
"Sig semper teranus, thus always to tyrants. The motto of every wack job."
"I didnt know you had a motto." Anderson sneered. Sherlock turn to make an insult about his wife not being the only unfaithful one when he noticed John. He was standing in the doorway and hadnt moved an inch. One hand was gripping the top of his crutch till his knuckles turned white, and the slight tremor in his left hand had returned. It wasnt too noticeable, but Sherlock couldnt miss it. John had gone pale and his eyes looked haunted.
"John-"Sherlock took a step toward his friend, but John moved forward and walked past him to the body. He was staring at the gun, and picked it up in his gloved hand. When he spoke his voice was cold and distant.
"Sig Sauer p226, semi-automatic, the basic design of the p220, length 196mm, barrel 122mm, width 38.1mm, height 140mm, 10 round polymer magazine, .357 cartridge , and mechanically locked." John turned to face them. Donovan raised her eyebrows.
"How did you know that?"
"Used by several armys including the British in the Afghan war."There was a moment of silence.
"So the man was killed by a soldier? " Anderson asked. John shook his head and Sherlock sighed exasperated.
"Anderson stop inflicting your stupidity on the world. The gun is a message. "
"Is this man a soldier? The ultimate insult to be killed by your own gun." At that moment Lestrade walked in to the room.
"No, but get this his brother-in-law is Gerold Grant." John looked shocked.
"The Gerold Grant?"
"Apparently. "
"What do you think that means? "
"Im not sure I just found out myself -"
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Sherlock shouted interrupting their conversation. Lestrade sighed and began a long detailed monologue which Sherlock abruptly tuned out. He turned to John.
"John summary." He demanded cutting Lestrade off. John sighed.
"The man was in the Afghan war he save a bunch of his men and killed a bunch of bad guys." John spoke with a voice one usually reserved for toddlers. Sherlock threw him a dirty look.
"Well let go have a chat with them, shall we?" Sherlock walked of the door. Behind him he could hear Donovan ask John why he had his crutch. He chuckle and reply that she wouldnt believe him if he told her. It was probably true. Who would believe he was hit by a flying skull?
Sherlock and John had split up, Sherlock taking the wife and John her brother. Sherlock hoped he would relate to a fellow soldier and open up. The wife had dark brown waist length hair. She was small, about 57, only a little shorter then John by about an inch. Sherlock figured she would be what most people would call pretty if it werent for her cold, mean eyes. Every word out of her mouth was about her ; what am I going to do?, How will I every go in to that room again?. A self centered and mean women, yes. Murderer, most likely not. Not that that meant she was innocent. It only mean the blood wasnt on her hands. Sherlock asked what she had done that day, and all the usual and unusual questions. He gathered that that the night went like this ; the wife, Courtney, and her brother had decided to go to the cinema. Her brother, Gerold, who was back from the war and recovering from knee surgery after being shot had been staying with them. The husband, Thane Hale, who had become rich off the invention of dental floss sticks. Thane stayed home saying that he wasnt feeling well. When the brother and sister returned Gerold headed to the guest room, next door, and Courtney to her room. When Courtney screamed and ran out the run she ran into her brother who had heard her scream and ran to the next room. He took her down stairs and tried to calm her down while they waited for Scotland Yard. When Sherlock finished with the wife leaving her crying considerably harder, and Donovan a good deal madder he went looking for John.
Sherlock stopped around the corner, and listened to the voices of John and the brother. He was hoping to hear something useful that John might miss. He could see there reflection in a mirror in the hall. Gerold Grant look a lot like his sister, but where she was cold and mean he was warm and kind. He was tall about 60. Not as tall as Sherlock, but definitely taller than John. He had warm brown eyes and short brown military hair. He had handsome strong feature and a naturally smiling face. He and John were standing in front of a large fireplace.
"Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against Thane?"
"Well last week was in a fight with a friend of his, but hes a nice guy. He introduced me to an ex boyfriend of mine."Sherlock couldnt figure out why he was suddenly so angry. All that he knew was that he didnt like the way Grant was looking at John, like a piece of meat.
"Do you know what the fight was about?" John didnt react to the obvious hint.
"No he didnt say... Im sorry I have to ask. I know its not my place. That guy you walked in with, is he your boyfriend? "Sherlock listened intently.
"Sherlock? No, hes just a friend."Sherlock couldnt explain the rush of sadness throught him in that moment. Sherlock could see Grant lean down resting an arm against the mantelpiece, and flash John a smile.
"So you follow your friend solving murders. Im almost afraid to ask what you do in your free time." He and John both laughed. Sherlock felt his anger welling up in him.
"I dont get much between crime scenes, the surgery, and chasing murderers." Both men laughed. Sherlock cursed himself for send John to talk to the other solider alone.
"So John, what do you say to getting a coffee sometime. Between crime scenes, the surgery, and chasing murderers of course."Before John could respond Sherlock rounded the corner.
"John, coming?"
"One moment Sherlock. "
"Now John!" John rolled his eyes and turned to Grant.
"Sorry social situations, even crime scenes, tend to make he grumpy." The two shook hands.
"I hope to see you around, John." Grant said a bit too warmly for Sherlocks taste. He snatched John by the wrist and drug him from the room.
