Disclaimer: Sherlock and his friends (well I say friends…) do not belong to me. Nor do I make any money from entertaining you. That's why my kids still go to public school.

A/N: I waffled for days while writing this on whether to tack it on the end of 'Homecoming' like I said I would or make it a story by itself. I finally decided to post it as its own story as I worked really hard on it. So, here you go. The next installment of the Honey 'Verse. Takes place immediately after 'Homecoming'. Let me know what you think of it.

The White Room

The scene inside what used to be a white-walled room was in a word, gruesome, Sally decided. Even to her jaded cop sensibilities the room was something she'd only expected to see in second rate horror films. After being on the homicide division for nearly seven years she thought she'd seen it all but this was beyond her experience. And that fact nearly made her lose her lunch, again.

To quell the nausea rising as it had the other two times she been called to a similar scene in the past week she catalogued the scene in her mind. The room was bare, no furniture, no pictures on the walls, totally bare. It had only the one door and no windows. Every single wall, the floor and the ceiling were covered in blood. Not blood splatters, but completely covered. As though someone had taken a roller and painted the room with the blood of the victim.

The body of the victim itself lay in the middle of the room. As far as Sally could tell it was in the exact middle of the room. The other two bodies had been so it followed that if this was the same killer then this body would also be placed carefully in the exact center. In the only spot that wasn't painted in blood. The carpet around the body was white. Shockingly white. As was the body itself. It had been completely drained of blood. What was that word? Exsanguinated. The whiteness of the carpet and the body lying on it drew her eyes to them as soon as they had unlocked the door.

Though unlocked may be the wrong word. Sure the janitor had the key but there had been a chain across it that could only be opened from the inside. How in God's name had this person been murdered? It made no sense. She hated cases like this. Complex beyond belief and nearly unsolvable. Which meant calling in the Freak because he loved cases like this. She hated calling in the Freak, even if he did help out and usually solved the case and caught the killer he was still a jerk that enjoyed airing her personal business to all and sundry.

From beside her she heard DI Lestrade sigh heavily. "Third one in less than a week," he mumbled. "Dammit!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose to prevent the oncoming headache.

Sally nodded and wondered briefly if he'd let her run out to the car for the paracetamol she kept in her purse for just this purpose. Hell, she'd give him whole damned bottle if he let her get away for the overwhelming stench of blood. "Don't you think it's time to call in the Freak, sir?" She asked instead.

Lestrade turned his entire body to look at her in surprise. "You're advocating in his favor?" He asked her incredulous.

Sally had never been more glad that her skin tone didn't lend itself to reddening. "Not advocating really. Just…he's good at this kind of thing. I look in here and see blood, lots of it and a body but he'd see…I don't know, the patterns in the blood that point to the killer. Why didn't you call him before this?"

Lestrade sighed again. "Dammit!" He cursed. "I can't call him. He's going through some stuff at the moment." His voice was low and reluctant as though he didn't want anyone else to hear him.

Sally felt her breath catch and her heart drop. "You mean that after five years clean he started using again?" She fought to keep her voice as low as his had been but she knew it didn't work well.

Lestrade's shoulders stiffened. "Why is that always your first thought? No. He's not using…at least I don't think he is." He glanced around for a moment and then pulled her to the side of the room away from the technicians and constables. "I swear as far as I know Sherlock is not using again…though he came close." He drew a breath and let go of her arm. "John was shot not too long ago." He told her plainly. "Sherlock's at the hospital with him and will be for a while yet. He was injured badly and it's going to take time for him to recover."

"Bad?" Her voice wavered. She'd never met the doctor husband but Lestrade spoke highly of him and the Freak was definitely in love with him. It was plain every time he spoke of Dr. Watson.

Lestrade only nodded with an audible swallow. "Very bad. Sherlock hasn't given me all the details but I have a friend that sent me some information that even Sherlock isn't privy too. John's heart stopped at least twice."

Sally covered her mouth to stifle the gasp.

"DI," Anderson called to him and he turned to face the other man with a grimace. "Where do you want us to set up?"

"You'd think he'd know the answer to that question by now," Lestrade muttered. "Wherever Anderson." He waved a hand dismissively as Sally snickered wanly. Lestrade turned back to her. "I don't want to call in Sherlock but I'm going to have to aren't I?"

"I think so, sir," Sally confirmed slowly. She didn't think it was a good idea either. Even if the Freak came he'd be distracted and worried about his husband.

"Dammit!" Lestrade cursed again and then started as the phone in his pocket buzzed. He pulled it out, opened the text message and then grinned. "Finish securing the scene and send me any information you get, Anderson. Donovan and I have something to do." He called over to the technician.

"What?" Anderson squawked.

"You heard me," Lestrade called back as he grabbed Sally's arm and pulled her through the PC's and techs. "We've got a meeting."

"Sir? Is everything all right?" One of the dark haired PC's called out.

Lestrade waved him off. "Fine, Davis," he answered. "Stay with Dr. Anderson. We'll be back later."

Lestrade let her arm go after they were through the crowd. She could still hear Anderson's grumbling and his orders but she gamely followed the DI to his cruiser. "What meeting?" She asked as she buckled the seatbelt.

Lestrade only grinned again, started the engine and tossed his phone into her lap. "Send him what I've got on there," he instructed.

Curious she checked the messages herself and then grinned and did as Lestrade had ordered.

Bored. Bring case files to Sister Agnes Military Hospital. And Donovan.

-SH