Author's Note:
I do not make any claims to ownership of Sherlock or its characters, only this plot line.
Current Timeline: A few months before The Fall
I hope you will enjoy :)
Sherlock sat in the large blue plush chair that helped him think during a long case.
"He paid off the security guard and receptionist, retrieved the flash drive from the safe deposit box and walked out the front door with millions. This whole case was so pathetically transparent but I'm certain I've missed something!"
Just as Sherlock was reaching a break through, John trotted up the stairs and into the apartment.
"Sherlock one of these days you're going to HAVE to pick up your own milk from the market, I just can't get a hang of those damned chip and pin machines. Why did you need two liters of cough syrup, people were looking at me like I was barmy-"
"JOHN! mind palace! And don't be so dull."
John put away the assorted grocery's and sat in his arm chair across from Sherlock.
"Have we got a new case?"
"No, not one. Not a single one." Sherlock replied in absolute anger throwing his hands above his head.
"I can't do this John, I'm not like you. My brain needs to be challenged! They're all so boring once I've solved them, but having none at all is torture!"
"Its only been a few days." John replied rolling his eyes at Sherlock's theatrics.
"I know and I'm suffocating! Check the paper while I phone Lestrade."
"Alright Sherlock alright I'd try to convince you to perhaps take this time to sleep, or eat but I really don't want to hear you go on about all the reasons you're not really human" John stated as he walk over to the pile of mail on the end table.
"Sarcasm on a Tuesday?" Sherlock moaned.
John gathered the newspaper while Sherlock talked on his mobile. He actually couldn't remember the last time Sherlock had slept or eaten. John seemed to go on trips to the market an awful lot and all that food disappeared somehow. John actually couldn't remember that last time he had slept or eaten either, but that's how it was with Sherlock Holmes. Always rushing about from one crime scene to another so Sherlock could solve puzzles and show off. John knew it was all just a distraction for Sherlock but for him it was a way to stay connected to the war he had left. It didn't hurt that it really was a lot of fun to follow around that brilliant bastard.
John often wondered about his contribution to their investigations. Sure he was an exceptional doctor who could determine cause of death with near perfection but other than that he did very little to actually solve the cases. Maybe John could teach Sherlock not to be such a prick to everyone he met, of course he knew Sherlock couldn't help it. Every so often John would catch a glimpse of the side of Sherlock that he hid from people. The part of him that had some shred of compassion and toleration for others. It always puzzled John how he seemed to be the only one that could see it, like Sherlock didn't register him as a person and never felt the need to hide it. And maybe he could use that to his advantage.
John realized that while his thoughts were running on as they do, he hadn't actually read a single word on the paper. He flipped to the obits first to see if there were any unusual or unexplained deaths recently. A few heart attacks, several natural deaths, a couple of suicides but nothing that screamed "interesting". John shuddered at the fact that, as a doctor, he had just thought of these deaths as uninteresting, he worried that Sherlock's influence was wearing away at his empathy.*Nah if anything it was the opposite, I just might be teaching SHERLOCK a little empathy*John thought quickly. He then scanned the rest of the newspaper to no avail.
"Sherlock there's nothing here, did Lestrade have anything that peaked your interest?"
"No nothing."
"Okay, shall i order a take away then?"
"Can't eat now, too busy" said Sherlock returning to his mind palace.
"You've solved that last case this week, no more have popped up yet and judging by the lack of body parts in the fridge and the clean state of the kitchen table you've got no experiments on, so what could you possible be busy with?"
"Things."
"Right."
John knew when he and Sherlock had reached the point in their conversation when Sherlock would no longer be listening to a word he was saying while his brain did what ever it was it did when they weren't on a case. Now might be a good time to catch up on some reading John thought. They'd been going non-stop for a week straight and he'd barely had time to sleep let alone read a book and he was right in the middle of earth infiltrating a mountain that was quite lonely, and he'd really been wanting to get back to it. John picked up his book opened to his bookmark and began to read. Right as he was getting into it a pale hand with long fingers snatched the book from his hand, grabbed his wrist and pulled him off the sofa.
"Sherlock, what are you doing? Don't subject me to your boredom please."
"John, what do women like?"
"What?!"
Had Sherlock just asked him about women, how the hell was he supposed to respond to that.
"Why? Have you finally hit puberty and are now having strangle tingly feelings around girls? He chuckled to himself."
"Just answer the question."
"Well if you mean what do they like in men? I guess I'd say they like them not to be sociopaths first off."
"John." Sherlock said sternly
"...well I'm no expert in women."
"Come on John, you've dated loads of women. Surely you have some sort of insight."
"First of all, I have not dated LOADS of women thank you very much. Secondly, even though I've dated, that doesn't mean I have any clue what they really like or I wouldn't still be single."
"Then just tell me about your experiences. Dates, gifts, conversation. And please use detail."
"That's kind of personal."
John could tell by the confused look of Sherlock's face that he didn't understand why that information could be a personal thing. John figured he'd better give Sherlock something or he'd never get back to his book.
"Fine, um...most dates were at a nice restaurant...I went bowling once. Flowers are nice. Talked about occupations and places to go on holiday...I don't know Sherlock. What are you getting at? Do you have a date with a woman?"
Sherlock stood there in silence obviously lost in thought, of course completely ignoring John now. Just when John was about to break the silence Sherlock walked to the door, put on his coat and scarf and started down the stairs. He was almost to the bottom when he walked back up.
"Coming John?"
"Why, where are we going?"
"A case."
The taxi pulled up in front of the latest crime scene, a small red brick building that looked like a run down corner shop.
"Sherlock, I though you said Lestrade didn't have anything for us?"
"He didn't, but after thinking over our talk earlier I decided he did."
"So you're telling me we've got a case where you need to understand women, and you came to me?"
"What? no, I'm talking about the bank theft."
"I don't remember talking about that today, it was days ago."
"Of course you do, it was right after you came down from your room."
"That's when I told you I was going to the market."
"Oh."
"Do you often have conversations with me when I'm not there?"
"I don't know, when aren't you there?"
Sherlock opened the cab door and stepped out.
"Pay the man will you John."
Sherlock walked over to the police tape and was unwillingly greeted by Sergeant Donovan.
"Freak."
"Sally."
"We don't need you."
"Must we do this song and dance every time I show up."
"Yes."
"Just direct me to the victim."
Sherlock ducked under the tape and was reluctantly escorted to the body.
Immediately Sherlock could smell an overwhelming aroma of gasoline and burnt flesh the cause of which became quite clear as he approached a half-charred corpse.
"Hello Sherlock" greeted DI Lestrade.
"Recognize this bloke?"
John joined the pair after a chat with Sergeant Donovan.
"Do you know this man Sherlock?" asked John
"Yes. So do you John. This is Kreig Hamilton, the bank thief we caught last Friday."
"Yes I remember, how did he end up here?"
Lestrade chimed in.
"He was being transferred after processing. However, the car was run off the road before it reached its destination. The constable was knocked unconscious by the crash and Hamilton was gone by the time EMS arrived. There were no witnesses to the crash and Constable Avery only remembers a black SUV with no plates. The area search turned up nothing and we had no leads to go on. Now we have a witness that says he saw a black SUV with no plates drive down this street, slow down, drop a body out of the trunk, and speed off. What do you think of all this Sherlock?"
"I think you should have notified me when he disappeared, I knew something was off about that case."
"Off?"
"Why would an up and coming yuppie suddenly decide to steal millions of dollars of software design from a company he would have had no prior dealings with. How did he learn about the flash drive, the company, the people to pay off. It was too neat. I should have know then."
"Known what?"
"He was just a middle man looking for a payout."
"A middle man for who?"
"...I don't know yet." *Someone with deep pockets and a vast network. A competitor of the security software company perhaps, but what reason would they have to risk a murder. A vicious murder at that. Tortured for information? Why would his employer need to torture him? Killed by a third-party? Too many variables.*
"May I examine the body now?"
Lestrade gestured for Sherlock to proceed and stepped away to speak with Sergeant Donovan.
Sherlock studied every inch. The legs, torso, and face were severely burned. He was only recognizable by the unique tattoo on his forearm bearing a crest with a lion and the name Hamilton.
John watched Sherlock deducing every bit of information possible. It was a marvel to watch the man at work. Sherlock's focus and observation was precision. His eyes got a look of excitement and mystery. John always liked that look. He always felt a sense of pride when Sherlock would reveal the how, who, and why with perfect accuracy. He was always completely amazed no matter how many times he saw it. Sometimes John's amazement was audible by accident but Sherlock never seemed to mind, he actually seemed to enjoy the praise.
'''''''
Sherlock would be disappointed if his faithful companion failed to compliment his skills. He didn't know why it bothered him but he always aimed to impress to be sure John would react accordingly. Which is why he was so frustrated that he could discern no definitive reasoning for this murder and body dump. Sure he now knew where Hamilton had been held, that a woman had been his torturer, and where he had been prior to his capture, and it would be sufficient information for the DI, but it wasn't enough for Sherlock who disliked not knowing everything.
Despite this, Sherlock was becoming more and more pleased as the case became more complex.
Sherlock went through all his findings with Lestrade, as did John after examining the body himself and determining that shock was the most likely cause of death (due to the torture).
"Keep me in the loop this time will you, this isn't over." said Sherlock obviously still annoyed with Lestrade.
"Will do"
The two men exited the crime scene and walked along the street to hail a cab.
"Finally! A brutal murder, a behind-the-scenes conspiracy, and an idea for a new experiment! Oh, its christmas!"
"Do you hear yourself when you speak Sherlock?" John quipped
A cab pulled over and they hurried in out of the rigid cold.
"221b Bakers Stre-"
"No," Sherlock cut off John. "I need to make a stop first. This address." he handed the driver a pink slip of paper.
"Where at Sherlock?"
"I need to speak with a contact, won't take more than a minute."
"What contact? Has it got to do with the case?"
"In a way."
"Do I know them?"
"No."
"Okay I guess." John could tell he wasn't going to get anything more out of Sherlock.
They sat it silence until they reached a lux looking apartment building. Sherlock exited instructing John to wait in the cab. He walked to the front door, exchanged some words with the doorman and disappeared into the building.
John wondered what sort of contact Sherlock could be meeting with in the upper class of London, and so late as it was half nine already. Sherlock had obviously gone up to their flat which seemed odd. He wondered if it could be related to their talk about woman earlier. Before he could give that anymore thought Sherlock emerged from the building with a woman, whom he hugged and waved goodbye to.*Maybe not so far off, but what business would Sherlock have with a woman who wasn't a victim or a witness. Why had he referred to her as a contact? And what does she have to do with this case?* thought John.
Sherlock entered the cab and noticed the puzzled look on John's face.
"Something on your mind John?"
John would have asked about the woman if he though Sherlock would give him a straight answer. So, he settled with a head shake. "Nah."
And back to Bakers Street they went.
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