Disclaimer: Thank God I don't own Sherlock, I ruin everything I touch.
Summary: One day he was just John and the next he was John who followed a brilliant, but possibly slightly mental, man onto crime scenes who invited strangers that appeared out of no where with bizarre, horribly illegal, hacking skills to join them. Or, rather, what if the dynamic duo had started off as a golden trio?
Also known as, I just wanna put Sherlock and John into amusing situations while adding another character to add (hilarious) chaos to the mix. Three friends are better than two. While this takes place during A Study In Pink (those who know me will be surprised how mostly canon it is) I kinda wanna focus more on the moments in between the more serious cases, and play with the dynamic of their relationships with one another. Gaaah. Anyway, blame TheDrawer who was curious about the idea.
Bouncing off the step and onto the sidewalk, Haley Whitman cheerfully sauntered after a pair of men that had just passed her, gray eyes twinkling as an excited grin tugged across her pretty face. With a quick glance at the screen her phone, she dropped it into the pocket of her oversized coat, and kept a three foot distance between her and the two men she was trailing, both who were completely oblivious to her existence, wrapped up in their own excitement.
"Think!" The taller of the two said passionately, mid-rant, his black coat billowing out behind him just as dramatically. "Who do we trust even though we don't know them?" His voice was enchanting, compelling, and Haley thought he was better suited on a stage than on the street. "Who passes unnoticed wherever they go...? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?"
He delivered the last line with such a gusto that Haley immediately decided to forgo her now boring plan of merely trailing and skipped ahead, her wavy chin length strawberry blonde hair bouncing with her movement. She easily slipped her arms through the speaker's and his silent blonde haired friend's. Both men stiffened in surprise, their attention Haley's who smiled charmingly up at the taller dark haired man, his sharp, observant, eyes sweeping across her face.
"Well, that's easy," Haley said happily, the blonde raising his eyebrows at the unexpected American accent. "The police, maintenance workers, taxis, postal services, hmmm, garbage trucks!" Haley untangled her arms from the two, sending a playful grin to the blonde. "Time out real quick, okays?" Wiggling her hand out from under her sleeve, Haley raised a small silver device above her head, which looked sort of like a button, and clicked it. "Okay, I have five minutes to quickly explain and you can either agree or we part ways and I do what I was hired to do."
"Hired?" The blonde injected but Haley kept her eyes on the taller man, who she had been informed was Sherlock Holmes. He studied her, a slight incline of his head was all she needed to continue.
"This disables cellphone service within twenty feet and all your fancy British cameras surrounding us." Haley boasted, answering Sherlock's unspoken question. "I just made it. Anyway, somebody wants to know what you're all about, hired me to trail you, spy on you, the works, in exchange for a sum of money." Sherlock showed no surprise, and to Haley it seemed that it was all so very expected for him. How interesting. "But that's so boooring and you were talking sooo loudly about that murder – oh I know all about it, you guys should really put up firewalls on your phones, I've been listening in all night. Solving a murder is so much cooler than just sitting around and watching you do things! What do you say, boss? I can be an excellent assistant, I can make you nifty little things like this and even fetch you coffee. Or is it tea? Whichever."
"You've, I'm sorry, you've been what?" The blonde frowned, turning Haley's attention toward him. She was fairly sure his name was John. "Isn't that... Isn't that illegal?" John's eyes flickered toward Sherlock and then back to Haley.
"It's so illegal that it loops back around and becomes legal." Haley said pleasantly, her warm attitude softening him bit, despite the absurdity of her response. Sherlock promptly plucked the device from her fingers, turning it about in his hand observantly and Haley grinned widely at him. "Well, boss? What do you say? Have it in you for another assistant?"
John opened his mouth to deny that he was any kind of assistant when Sherlock swiftly cut him off.
"Are you hungry?" Sherlock slipped the device into his pocket, which Haley took as a sign of him accepting her offer.
"No, I'm Haley." The strawberry blonde teased, grinning widely as she bounced after the unamused detective, who utterly ignored her comment. John blinked rapidly, feeling all out of sorts, and sputtered as he followed after the two, cursing his cane more than ever.
"Wait – Sherlock, we don't know a thing about this girl!"
Sherlock swirled around, eyes idly sweeping across her as he walked backwards, hands in his coat pockets. "Don't be absurd, John," he chastised lightly. "We know she's an American, in her mid-twenties, and that she comes from money – lots of money, actually, if her designer clothing is anything to go by and the lovely diamond stud earrings she's wearing." Stunned, Haley raised a hand to her ear, fingers brushing over the earring she hadn't thought could be seen, and Sherlock's mouth curved into a smug smirk. "Not to mention the way she holds herself, with sophisticated ease, which, that, and the absence of any actual accent to dictate which part of America she's from, would suggest boarding school, though if I had to take a guess as to where she grew up I would say either New York, or, mmm, definitely Chicago. Judging by her brightly painted nails and converse, wearing all black isn't something she typically does – she's obviously just been to an occasion that demanded for her to dress for the occasion – but what sort of occasion had she been to before she decided to hop a plane and fly to London? Ah. Funeral."
Sherlock paused momentarily, eyes narrowing a fraction as he examined Haley who was staring at him in a state of complete and utter shock, eyes slightly round, lips parting in her surprise. How on Earth could he know all of this by simply looking at her? It all seemed so... impossible. Never in Haley's life had anyone looked at her quite like how Sherlock was, as though he could see every part of her, knew what made her tick, saw her very essences with such analytical detachment, that it was both terrifying and exhilarating to her. Sherlock was a force beyond Haley had ever known, standing a mere two feet away from her, in a daunting black coat with the collar popped up, scarf, a messy mop of black curls and those all seeing eyes that glinted somewhat from the street lighting.
"A funeral for who? It must have been for an older male, family, clearly, judging by the coat she's wearing which is much too big for her," he continued to drawl on breezily in his richly enchanting deep voice. "Sentimental. An uncle? No... Father. Yes. The earrings, ones which have hardly been worn or even liked, were a gift from him, unquestionably, most likely to buy her affection due to being absent in her life as it's clear they weren't very close, she's hardly distraught over his death, no trace of tears or grief on her face. Now why would she leave right after a funeral, especially if she isn't grieving? The offer of money to spy on me is hardly an incentive, she's plenty of it, and if she isn't broken up over the death of her father, why flee from her home? Maybe she feels guilty about something, maybe she's trying to bury old resentments... No, that isn't it. No, there must be trouble at home she's trying to escape, perhaps a dispute she doesn't want to be part of. Perhaps something over her father's will? Perhaps there's a fight between her and her brothers – obviously she has them, a few of them, I would say, it's all there in the way she behaves." Sherlock slid his phone out of his pocket, his gaze flickering across the screen quickly before pocketing it and returning his attention to the stunned Haley and John. "Typical. Boring. All that's really important to know about her is how useful she can be, and it appears that our new assistant here was not joking – I've no service on my mobile."
There was a beat of utter silence in which Haley simply stared at Sherlock. For the second time in Haley's life, she had been robbed of her ability to speak, completely and entirely speechless, flat out gaping. She blinked slowly, almost disbelievingly, and found herself turning towards John as though she needed some kind of confirmation that what had happened, had actually happened, and she wasn't in some kind of weird altered stated of reality. John was looking equally impressed and Haley's eyes returned to Sherlock who was starting to look impatient, awaiting her reaction. Haley opened her mouth and -
"Oh my God, you're literally the most amazing person I have ever met, that was genius! You're friggin' genius! Oh my God, oh my God! How'd you even do that? That was amazing! You're so cool!" It all came blurting out as Haley sprang back to life, a grin rapidly taking her face as her eyes lit up gleefully, a sort of admiring respect glimmering in them. Sherlock's mouth tugged down into an uncomfortable, uncertain, slightly taken aback frown, his brain scrambling to figure out how to respond to that.
This was new, very new.
"He is, isn't he?" John was instantly agreeing with her, a slight grin of his own on his face, deciding having this Haley girl joining them wouldn't be so bad after all. At least he wouldn't be the only one stumbling after Sherlock in suspended, awed, surprise. He held out his hand to her, his grin growing. "John Watson."
Haley looked both pleased and positively delighted. "Haley Whitman," she reintroduced herself, her smile warm and friendly, her hand soft in his.
"What did I get wrong?" Sherlock demanded with curt impatience, resuming their walk, as he brushed away the feelings that had stirred within him from their gleeful response to his deduction. Haley and John shoved him into new territory, something that left him uncertain with how to proceed from. His words cut between the warm grins the two were aiming at one another. "I always get something wrong, what was it?"
Haley's amused gaze flickered in Sherlock's direction as she played with the idea of either being blunt or remaining mysterious. "My father and I were close, actually, and I took his coat long before he... passed away," she began casually, rolling a shoulder upward. She'd learned from her father that a good business partnership flourished when there was no secrets between people. Her smile turned a little impish causing Sherlock's gaze to tilt toward curious. "If he was really dead, I'd be terribly upset, but I'm the one who killed him, so I know he's alive." Haley's impish smile curved into a full blown smirk and she smashed her hand over John's mouth without breaking eye contact with Sherlock, his attention completely hers. The blonde, who had been about to sputter, flailed slightly at the impact, nearly crashing into a building. Haley tilted her chin upward, straightening. "Among my endlessly amazing talents, killing people and giving them new identities is something I excel at." She boasted shamelessly, proudly, dropping her hand from John's mouth who stared at her in baffled disbelief. "So I'm not running away from home because I worry about my brothers, which, yes, you're correct, I do have. Four of them, actually. I've come to London because they're going to realize what I've done and I needed a head start run." That was mostly true.
Sherlock tapped his fingers against the screen of his phone which was in his coat pocket, his gaze trailing across her face observantly. He didn't pick up any deceit, though she was hiding something, nor did he find any indication that this was some sort of delusion she created inside her head to cope from the death of her father. In fact, she didn't appear unhinged in any kind of way and there was no evidence of being off any kind of anti-psychotic medication. And, there was, after all, proof of her capabilities. He pulled out his mobile that hadn't had service until a moment ago, which meant she was off by fifty seconds about how long her device worked for. Interesting.
"Is that even legal?" John said after a moment, frowning, and Sherlock smirked at the grin Haley sent him. "No, really. You don't do that. No. This whole thing is impossible."
Yes, Sherlock was really pleased how this night was turning out.
John pressed his lips together as his third attempt to explain that he and Sherlock were not together, and that Haley wasn't their friend they'd just came out to. Neither Haley nor Sherlock made any attempts to correct the absurd assumption. And so, with a huff, John settled for sitting silently for a moment, staring at Sherlock, who sat across from him with his head tilted toward the window, then toward Haley who was sitting between them, her back to the window and her eyes on her phone, doing whatever it was that she did with it. Possibly something absurdly illegal.
"People don't have archenemies." John said decidedly, pointedly, feeling the need to suddenly break the silence that stretched on between the three of them. He was feeling a tad awkward, sitting besides two extraordinary, impossible, people.
Sherlock blinked, eyes flickering toward John as though just remembering he was there, confusion flooding his face momentarily. "Sorry?"
"In real life," John continued, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of it all. "There are no archenemies in real life. It doesn't happen."
Sherlock seemed even more perplexed, eyes narrowing a fraction as though he needed to contemplate such an idea. "Doesn't it?"
"What about archenemies?" Haley wondered, not taking her eyes off her phone, her attention half on John and half on her newest project.
"Sherlock, he's got one," John said, in a rather teasing, gossiping, way causing Sherlock to roll his eyes at the doctor's behavior. "Kidnapped me and everything. Was rather rude about it actually. Sort of threatened me, it was strange. Dramatic, really." Pausing, John brightened upon realizing the connection between he and Haley. "Actually, he offered me money to spy on Sherlock as well. Did your employer say he was Sherlock's archenemy?"
Haley shook her head, strawberry blonde tresses bouncing. "No, they said they were a fan, an admirer."
"I've a fan?" Sherlock wondered, eyes sliding toward Haley curiously. He leaned his head closer to her, attempting to peer down at her phone. "Really? What were the exact words?"
Haley paused in her program-coding as Sherlock's head moved into her personal space, bright eyes curious, a pleased, smug, look on his face. He looked a bit boyish, though, there was a sweetness to his curiosity that made Haley decide, maybe, just this once she'd stop in the middle of a project to cater to his wants. Swiping her phone, she pulled up the text and turned the screen around so Sherlock could see it clearly. He reached forward and Haley swatted his fingers away, not backing down from the look he sent her. Haley's phone was her baby, and she was in the middle of a project! She didn't know Sherlock all that well, and even if she did, she certainly wouldn't trust him enough to not mess something up! One wrong touch on her phone could ruin everything. Sherlock, clearly reading her, raised a single eyebrow at her and Haley raised hers back at him. Her phone, her rules.
John cleared his throat and Haley bit her lip to keep from smiling – poor John, feeling left out.
"Pumpkin," Sherlock began, reading out loud for John's benefit, and Haley found it ridiculously amusing how much power John unknowingly held over the detective. "You've been a busy little bee, adorably so, and have caught my attention with how much fun you are. I've something I think you will find to be even more fun than what you are doing now, come to England. I've found myself admiring a man named Sherlock Holmes, he certainly isn't ordinary or boring. Do me a favor, pumpkin? Send Daddy all you can about this man. Here is where you will find him. Though I very much doubt you will need this, here is an incentive. See you in London, pumpkin. XOXO JM."
"That's creepy." John said at once, a flare of protectiveness in his voice. "Why would he call himself daddy?"
"I refuse to believe I'm only worth half a million dollars to this supposed fan." Sherlock scoffed, turning his attention back toward the window, as though this whole thing wasn't worth thinking about. It was. But he hadn't the time now. Later, after the case, he would revisit this. John snorted, shaking his head.
"Archenemies, creepy fans," John muttered to himself. "I can't believe this."
"It must be so dull for you ordinary people," Sherlock said in a wondrous voice, as though he could hardly believe what sort of life John lived. "I don't know how you can stand something so terribly boring."
John furrowed his brow, opening his mouth, to voice his offense, but Haley cut him off.
"You were home-schooled, weren't you?" Haley remarked thoughtfully, gray eyes focused on her phone again. "Yes, it makes sense now. You were home-schooled and you've got a sibling, older, who is probably more brilliant than you, if we dare imagine such a possibility. Being home-schooled, I'd imagine your sibling would've thought you dumb as you've nothing to compare yourselves to – which would explain your need to to show everyone you meet how brilliant you are, by spewing out your impossibly amazing deductions and would also account for your lack of social graces, you've no idea how to appropriately talk to people." She paused, glancing up to meet Sherlock's calculating stare. "Not that I think that you shouldn't do what you do, boss, I'm completely all for the world seeing how positively brilliant you are. It's a fantastic thing." Sherlock stared at her, utterly unimpressed, and she grinned back at him, returning her attention back to her phone. "S'why you're surprised by John and my acceptance of what you say, most people must think you're doing it to be mean."
"Oh great, you do it too." John frowned at her deeply, wondering where the hell he missed the memo to sprout random information like that. He supposed there was a class he never took for it. Clearly.
"Don't look so impressed, John, Whitman is making an educated guess rather than actually deducing, it's hardly the same." Sherlock commented on casually and Haley grinned at him teasingly.
"Whatever, at least I don't have archenemies in my own family." Haley said with a dismissively flick of her wrist.
"You assume my archenemy is a sibling." Sherlock drummed his fingers against the table, tilting his head slightly as he observed her, and Haley dropped her gaze back to her phone, grinning. "You've not made a single real deduction, therefore your theory falls flat."
"Who better than family?" Haley wondered in a sing-song and John sighed heavily.
"But that isn't real! People don't do that sort of thing."
"Sounds like John has lived a dull life." Haley murmured as Sherlock returned staring out the window while John shot her an offended look.
"Mm. Extremely." Sherlock agreed causing John to scoff to himself. The dark haired detective sent him a glance, feeling some odd desire to defuse the doctor's irritation. "What should I have, if not an archenemy?"
"I dunno, friends?" John wondered, not unkindly, nothing at all about his attitude or stance suggesting such, so Sherlock didn't take it insultingly. "People you like? People you don't..." A pause. "A girlfriend? Boyfriend?" Ah.
The real question. The one that John had really been working up to ask. It always came to this.
"Ew." Haley scoffed, wrinkling her freckled nose, and looking up at John with a frown. "I don't get dating. It's so boring and such a waste of my time."
John raised his eyebrows, completely taken aback by the fact that Haley, a very good looking girl, seemed so opposed to dating, while Sherlock relaxed, his mouth twitching slightly as he tilted his head back to the window.
"You don't date?" John exclaimed, incredulously, and Haley decided it wasn't worth a reply.
"I do believe Whitman has taken the words right out of my mouth." Sherlock murmured, slightly pleased, and John snapped his attention toward the detective.
"You don't date either?" John didn't understand while Haley swayed her feet back and forth, glad her boss felt similarly. That would remove any unwanted advances which would ruin this whole thing for her.
"I'm married to my work, John," Sherlock stated, a bit passionately. "I find myself..."
"Utterly disinterested?" Haley offered.
"Indifferent." Sherlock said firmly. "Dating is so..."
"Dull." Haley nodded her head.
"Predictable."
"Maybe you two should date if you feel the same way about it." John huffed, feeling somewhat insulted.
"Can't. Spoken for." Both Sherlock and Haley chimed, Sherlock in a bored voice, Haley in a gleeful one. The pair didn't seem all that concern that they had spoken at the same time, but John was squinting at them.
Deciding to let go of the fact that they had spoken in stereo, John turned his attention toward Haley. "Which is it, then? You're not dating but you're spoken for?"
"It wouldn't be uncommon for Whitman to be in arranged marriage," Sherlock murmured, eyes fixed on something outside and Haley tore her gaze from her phone to grin happily at John.
"His name is Dexter and he's a forensic blood splatter analyst." Haley practically gushed to John and Sherlock's eyebrows raised ever so slightly. Blood splatter analyst, how interesting. And useful. Simultaneously, both Sherlock's and John's text alerts went off and the two turned their attention toward their respected phones. "It's the best kind of relationship, you know, 'cause he's a serial killer."
John jerked his head up from the picture message. "Sorry, what?"
But Haley acted as though she hadn't heard him, a dreamy grin on her face that John thought was slightly disturbing while Sherlock narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the number that had texted him. "Yep," Haley popped the p loudly. "Isn't he adorable? I sent you guys his picture."
"This is... This is a picture of the actor who plays that – that Dexter from that American show!" John cried, incredulously. "You can't be promised to a fictional character, Haley, that's mental."
"Our relationship would be the greatest relationship." Haley defended with a huff. "I wouldn't have to worry about pesky romance or threatening sexual urges! It would be exactly as it is, just nothing!"
"How did you even get my number?" John continued, dismayed, as he grudgingly added her number to his contacts.
"The perfect relationship until I catch him and send him to jail." Sherlock said, pocketing his phone and Haley gasped theatrically.
"You wouldn't catch him!"
"I would," Sherlock stated seriously, tilting his chin upward, challengingly, and John wondered what part of fictional the two weren't grasping. "And you, as my assistant, would help me. It's a doomed romance."
"It's fictional." John reminded them with a sigh, eyes tilted upward to the ceiling as though seeking a high power to help him deal with these two eccentric people.
Haley looked utterly put out, puffing her lower lip out into a pout. "My one chance at a perfectly happy non-romantic, non-sexual, relationship and my boss ruins it."
But Sherlock was no longer paying attention to either John or Haley, his attention utterly transfixed, like a hound catching the scent of a rabbit. "Look across the street," he commanded in a low voice. "Taxi. Stopped." Haley turned around, she and John peering out the window. "Nobody getting in, nobody getting out... why a taxi?" Sherlock's voice dropped into a whisper, glowing, excited, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"I told you it'd be a taxi." Haley whispered, smacking John's arm with her excitement and John shot her a look.
"Hardly." Sherlock dismissed. "You spouted out ideas without any deduction behind it..." he trailed off and then said in a soft voice, clearly speaking to himself: "It's clever... Oh, so clever... But why is it clever?"
"It's clever because people will trustingly get into a taxi, even with a complete stranger." Haley said, feeding off of Sherlock's quiet excitement, and the dark haired detective tilted his head thoughtfully, considering her input.
"That's him." John caught on suddenly, leaning forward toward the window.
"Don't stare." Sherlock chastised and John sent him a glance.
"What? You're staring." John pointed out, childishly, as Haley spun back around, looking thoughtful.
"We can't all stare." Sherlock tore his eyes from the window, rising, grabbing his coat, and darting from the table. John, alarmed, watched him go and grabbed his own coat, dashing after him without his little cane, Haley noticed.
She turned in her seat, watching Sherlock dart after the taxi, nearly getting himself hit by a car. Snorting, she turned back around, gazing at her empty table. She was hungry damn it. Sighing, the petite hacker wiggled out of her seat and pranced out of the building, watching with idle amusement as her boss sprinted down the street. Like hell she was going to chase after them. Sighing, Haley realized her little project was going to have to wait and activated the GPS for the chip she'd slipped into John's coat. Sliding her gaze about the darkened street, her eyes landed on a stunning woman some feet away by her bike.
Oh, perfect.
Welling fake tears into her eyes, Haley wandered toward the woman.
John's mouth twitched, a few chuckles rising in his throat. "Nothing, just... 'welcome to London'." He said after a moment, Sherlock gifting him with a slightly amused grin, something John had no idea was rare. After a moment, John glanced around them, a frown now on his face. "Where's Haley?"
Sherlock glanced down at his watch. "Should be here in a..."
As though summoned by the thought, a sleek black motorcycle revved toward them, stopping just feet away, and John's mouth dropped at the stunning dark haired woman driving it. A smaller girl wearing a black helmet slid off the bike, and John's eyebrows rose to his hairline as the girl removed the helmet, revealing Haley. He watched as she handed the woman back her helmet, who then leaned forward and kissed her straight on the mouth, before replacing the helmet and giving he and Sherlock a wave.
"Wha...?" John blinked rapidly as Haley came prancing towards them. He turned to Sherlock who didn't look all that surprised. "How'd you know she was on her way here?"
"Simple, I observe." Sherlock stated as Haley stopped in front of them, smiling cheerfully. "Tracking device?" Haley grinned wider at him, and spread her arms out as to say what can you do, glad her boss gave her an approving nod rather than a disproving one. Neither informed John he was carrying it.
"How the hell did you get a ride here?" John demanded, more in awe than anything, and Haley brushed invisible dirt from her clothing.
"I'm an adorable lost American girl, tragically separated from her brother and his boyfriend." Haley explained happily and John knitted his eyebrows together. He opened his mouth -
"No time," Sherlock interjected, and John snapped his mouth shut, glanced at him, and then towards the taxi where the man was speaking to a copper, pointing in their direction. Haley lifted her eyebrows, curiously.
"Ready when you are," John said, grabbing Haley's hand and pulling her along as he darted after Sherlock.
"What? Why are we running?" Haley asked as she followed after John, turning her head back around to glance at the taxi.
"Impersonated the police," John said between breathes and she whipped her head back to him, surprised, but more bummed that she had missed out on that.
The trio stumbled into 221B Baker Street, out of breath, all sharing the same slightly giddy amusement. John let go of Haley's hand, shrugging off his coat, as Haley bent over, hands on her knees as she attempted to regain her breath, giggles building in her throat.
"Whitman." Sherlock's slightly breathless voice murmured in a soft, low, voice and she turned her head, her eyes flickering down to his extended hand, his long white fingers curled slightly, and then slid her gaze up to meet his. Sherlock, unaware that Haley found his actions to be kind, was seeing how sentimental she was about her father's coat and if she'd allow herself to be parted from it.
"Thanks, boss," Haley managed between breaths, slipping out of her jacket, pulling her phone into her hand, as she allowed Sherlock to take her coat. She snorted, watching as he carelessly tossed it over the railing. So much for being a gentleman!
"That..." John said just as breathlessly, amusement flooding his voice. "That was ridiculous." He came to lean against the wall before the steps, besides Sherlock, as Haley plopped down on the third step. "That was the most ridiculous thing that I've ever done."
"And you invaded Afghanistan," Sherlock remarked and for whatever reason, Haley and John burst into breathless giggles, finding the entire thing ridiculous. Their amusement rolled off them in waves and Sherlock's mouth sprang upward, laughter slipping from him before he could detach himself from the emotions.
"That wasn't just me," John said after calming down a bit. He paused, eyes sliding from Sherlock to Haley and then back to Sherlock, becoming curious. "Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"
"Oh, they can keep an eye out," Sherlock replied, unconcerned, while Haley frowned down at her phone. "It was a long shot anyway."
"The free food, all for naught..." Haley murmured, sadly, pulling the program back up that she had been working on before Sherlock and John decided to go running through the streets of London like lunatics.
"So what were we doing there?" John continued on, neither he or Sherlock paying Haley any attention.
"Oh, just passing the time..." Sherlock said, eyes tilting towards John smugly. "...And proving a point."
Haley opened her mouth to repeat the lack of food she was promised but then closed it, watching Sherlock and John curiously. Her gaze flickered towards John's leg, wondering why he hadn't needed or noticed the absence of his cane. Sherlock caught her glance with a victorious smirk before turning back to John who was staring at him in confusion, while Haley raised her eyebrows slowly.
"Oh my God." Sherlock either cured John's injury, which was unlikely (though in Haley's secret hearts of hearts she hoped it turned out that the detective was some kind of magical mutant) or John's injury was psychological.
"Point?" John repeated, eyes flickering between Haley and Sherlock, his stance becoming demanding. "What point?"
"You." Sherlock immediately turned away from the confused doctor, pleased that, despite Haley not having heard Sherlock's earlier deduction about John's condition, the girl's brain seemed to have put two and two together. "Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock loudly called. "Dr. Watson will take the room upstairs!" Yes, Sherlock was pleased about how this night was unfolding.
"Says who?" John huffed, a challenge in his voice, despite the fact that both he and Sherlock knew that John had long ago confirmed to himself that he wanted the flat.
"Says the man at the door."
Haley wasn't even surprised when, as though it were rehearsed, there was knocking on the front door. John sent the detective a look of utter shocked awe before drifting towards the door in stunned silence.
"That was epic." Haley said as John slipped outside and Sherlock glanced at her, but her eyes were fixed on John. "So friggin' epic."
"And where are you staying, Whitman?" Sherlock wondered in a low voice, not wanting John to overhear. Surely the kind doctor would insist Haley stay with them. "It's obvious you immediately left home and took the first flight to London. I suspect that's when you made your... useful little invention. You landed in London and immediately sought me out, which, while flattering, isn't much use for you in terms of permanent lodging."
Haley's mouth slid into an amused smirk as she stared up at the tall detective. "I'm sure I'll figure something out, boss." It was ridiculous that Sherlock didn't think she hadn't already travelocity'd that the moment she made her flight to London. Silly detective.
Sherlock nodded curtly, glad the hacker wasn't interested in sleeping on his couch until whenever she found herself a flat.
"Sherlock, what have you done?" An anxious, worried, voice asked unhappily, turning the trio's (as John had just walked back inside with his cane) attention toward an older woman. Haley pulled herself up off the step.
"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock inquired, frowning, concern on the edge of his tone. Haley and John glanced at one another.
"Upstairs." Mrs. Hudson said, utterly distraught, and Haley quickly stepped aside for Sherlock who wordless passed her, easily gliding up the steps, two at a time, with John hot on his heels. Haley watched them go before shifting her eyes towards the woman who was staring back at her.
"Hi, I'm Haley," Haley introduced herself awkwardly, itching to follow the two upstairs but feeling as though she couldn't be rude to the older woman who was so tragically upset. "I'm sort of... Mr. Holmes' assistant. S'nice to meet you..."
Mrs. Hudson dabbed her eyes with her tissue. "Hello, there, dear, it's nice to see that Sherlock and John have friends," Mrs. Hudson said, either haven't heard the assistant part or was ignoring it. She reached out, patting Haley's hand, which was resting on the railing. "Oh, I do hope Sherlock gets this mess sorted out, I worry about him sometimes.." Mrs. Hudson trailed off with a sigh and Haley bounced her weight between her feet, feeling even more awkward, her curiosity now burning.
"I should... probably go help with that," Haley murmured, spinning around and darting up the steps.
"- can't just break into my flat!" She heard Sherlock snap as she skipped the last step and very nearly collided into John. He turned slightly, catching her by the elbow, steadying her, but Haley's attention was on who she assumed were police officers searching the apartment which, to Haley's great surprise, was most likely the same size as her bedroom.
"Well, you can't withhold evidence!" A (sort of dashing) man sitting casually in a leather chair retorted irritably. His eyes slid toward Haley and he raised his eyebrows, turning back to Sherlock accusingly. "Another one? Christ, you're just picking up strays left and right!"
Haley opened her mouth but promptly closed it upon Sherlock's dark look sent in her and John's offended direction, and so settled for exchanging a look with an equally annoyed John. Like hell they were strays! Feeling spiteful, Haley decided to loudly ignore the scene unfolding before her and opted for hacking into the present officers' phones.
"And, for the record, I didn't break into your flat."
"Well, what do you call this, then?" Sherlock raised his arms with his incredulous irritation. Greg Lestrade, as the (foxy) officer turned out to be, glanced about idly before turning his eyes back to Sherlock.
"It's a drugs bust," Lestrade informed Sherlock, rather pleased with himself, and Sherlock stilled.
"Seriously?" John couldn't help it, beyond amused by the sheer absurdity of that statement alone, cracking a grin. He glanced at Haley, but she appeared oblivious, consumed with her phone. "This guy, a junkie?"
"No judgment here, boss," Haley pipped, breaking into a Sally Donovan's phone, while John snorted.
"You're gonna go along with this, Haley?" John asked, teasingly, tilting his eyes back to Lestrade, oblivious to Sherlock who was uncomfortably turning towards him. "Have you met him?"
"John..." Sherlock muttered curtly, trying to get the doctor's attention.
"I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational!" John continued confidently staring Lestrade down as Sherlock leaned closer to him. Haley's eyebrows skyrocketed upon the dirty text messages this Sally chick was having with a Philip A.
"John, you probably want to shut up now." Sherlock instructed quietly, at last gaining John's amused attention.
"Yeah, but come on," John began only to falter, his grin slipping as Sherlock held his gaze, jaw flexing. His brow knitted with his disbelief.
"Holy mother of tits," Haley muttered to herself in surprise, staring at the, well, nice pair that was sent to whoever this lucky guy was. Maybe he was an officer too! Maybe he was here! "Oi, Phil!" She called loudly, sliding her eyes upward hopefully and breaking the stare down between John and Sherlock.
"I'm sorry?" A voice inquired and Haley turned around, only to blanch at the really unattractive cop who looked like he'd be better off as the killer in some crappy B-Rated psycho movie. He was pasty white with dark hair that looked sort of like a badly glued on wig in the lighting. He frowned at her, not sure if they had met, and Haley made a face back at him, wondering how the hell a bombshell like Sally would end up with that.
"Anderson!" Sherlock all but groaned, stepping away from John, who was watching him with a frown. "What are you doing here on a drugs bust?"
"Oh, I volunteered." Anderson purred smugly, dropping his questioning gaze toward Haley in favor of taunting Sherlock.
Haley continued going through the smutty picture messages which had been sent back and forth between the two. The further she looked, the more odd the texts and pictures became, and suddenly Haley had a feeling that this Sally and Philip were into some weird things, sex wise, which was what made them click – oh, hello.
"They all did." Lestrade was saying, all proud of himself, as Haley nudged John with her elbow, trying to get his attention back. "They're not, strictly speaking, on the drugs squad, but they're very keen."
John shot Haley a look before letting his eyes drop down to her phone which was tilted toward him. For a moment, John wasn't sure what he was looking at. He leaned closer to her phone, brows furrowed, staring at the picture of the man in the red skimpy lingerie.
"Wait." John muttered, quickly glancing over towards Anderson, then back to the picture on her phone. "No... No, really?" Suddenly realizing how Haley must've attained that picture, John sent her a reproachful look. "Haley!" He hissed, raising his fingers to his forehead, as though to shield himself, causing Sherlock to tilt his head toward the two. "You didn't!"
"Are these human eyes?" A woman, Donovan, demanded, stepping into view as John's hand slid down to cover his mouth, his amusement outweighing his disapproving shock at Haley's blatant disregard for privacy. The hacker grinned mischievously back at him.
"Put those back!" Sherlock commanded, tearing his eyes from both John and Haley, narrowing them on Donovan who flicked her eyebrows upward, challengingly.
"They were in the microwave." She retorted coldly and Sherlock nearly rolled his eyes at her, disgusted by the sheer idiocy he was surrounded by.
"It's an experiment." Sherlock shot back acidly, sneering at her as he turned away, not finding her presence worth acknowledging anymore. He was surrounded by idiots who were trampling all over his stuff, ruining his experiments! And for what!
"Keep looking, guys." Lestrade ordered lightly, rising to his feet to intercept Sherlock who was starting to pace, every inch of him on fire, antsy. "Or, you could start helping us properly and I'll stand them down."
Sherlock shot the Detective Inspector a cold glance as he brushed past him. "This is childish."
"Well, I'm dealing with a child." Lestrade countered, hands on his hips, as he watched Sherlock pace back and forth. "Sherlock," he tried, attempting to appeal to Sherlock's logic. "This is our case. I'm letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?" He felt like he was lecturing a disobedient teenager, not a wildly brilliant adult. Who needed to have children when he had to deal with Sherlock Holmes?
"So what?" Sherlock turned around, half between a sulky pout and anger, his eyes blazing down at Lestrade. "So, so... So you set up a... a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"
John's amusement was falling away as he watched Sherlock and he slid his eyes toward Haley, not liking sitting back and not doing anything. Haley and John glanced at one another again, both feeling slightly anxious over staying silent.
"It stops being pretend if they find anything."
John nodded towards Haley's phone and then flickered his eyes towards Sherlock, hoping Haley would catch on. He should have known that she would, she was quick like that. Her eyes lit up, a wicked grin forming across her face as she quickly saved the picture of Anderson to her phone.
"I. Am. Clean." Sherlock stated firmly, his gaze quickly flashing toward John and Haley, slightly guarded. But neither was looking at him with any negative expressions. ...In fact, John was looking a little... amused? John's eyes pointedly flickered to Haley's phone and then back to Sherlock, who narrowed his eyes in confusion.
Sherlock's phone ping'd, alerting him to a text message and he hesitated, glancing back at Haley and John before sliding his phone out of his pocket, eyebrows raising upon seeing a picture text from his new assistant. His eyebrows drew together upon seeing the picture, his head tilting as he brought the phone closer. That was – Sherlock's eyes flitted over to Haley who was shrugging innocently, John scratching his nose and looking elsewhere, as though he had nothing to do with it. A small, amused, grin slid across Sherlock's face, his frustration and rage fading from him quickly, a quiet appreciation for his choice in assistants rising. His gaze locked with Haley's, his eyes lightening with his mood, and gave her an approving nod which caused a delighted smile to sprint across her face. Did she really think he'd be disproving? How absurd!
"Is your flat?" Lestrade was saying, turning Sherlock's attention back towards him. He didn't miss the glint of mischievous amusement in Sherlock's gaze. "All of it?"
"I don't even smoke," Sherlock answered with a casual, bored, drawl, now feeling back in control of the situation. He unbuttoned his cuff, pulling his sleeve upward to show his patch.
Lestrade copied him. "Neither do I." He said, showing off his own patch, and Haley turned to John, muttering: "Death Eaters showing each other their Dark Marks."
John only managed to keep back the sniggers with a loud snort.
"So let's work together," Lestrade continued, acting as though he hadn't heard Haley, though Sherlock's eyes were sliding back to her. "We've found Rachel." And suddenly, nobody but Lestrade existed, Sherlock's complete attention solely fixed on Lestrade.
"Who is she?" Sherlock commanded, buzzing, alive with this new prospect of information!
"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter - " Lestrade began but Sherlock cut him off.
"Her daughter?" Sherlock repeated, mouth dipping into a puzzled frown, eyes narrowing. That just – it didn't make sense. "Why would she write her daughter's name, why?"
"Never mind that," Anderson began, stepping forward, out of the kitchen area. John snorted, quickly averting his eyes, while Haley grinned wickedly, eyes still on her phone. Anderson didn't notice and Sherlock's mouth threatened to burst into a grin of his own. It seemed their amusement over Haley's discovery became fresh the moment Anderson reminded them of his existence. "We found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath."
"Anderson, you dolt, I'm not a psychopath," Sherlock began, attempting to sound heated, but the longer he stared at Anderson, the more he could see him dressed indecently. Giggles started to erupt from Haley causing John to shake with his own laughter, and soon Sherlock was trying to shove down his own. Anderson flushed, though wasn't sure why he was being laughed at. "I'm a high f-functioning sociopath!" Sherlock couldn't contain the laughter from his voice as hard as he tried.
"What have you said about me?" Anderson demanded, irritably, and an actual giggle escaped John who tried to cover it up with a cough. "Why are they laughing at me? There's nothing funny about a murder investigation!"
Sherlock promptly spun on his heels, facing Lestrade, who had been furrowing his brow, looking towards Haley and John curiously. "You need to bring Rachel in and you need to question her," Sherlock was focused again, his excitement growing once more. "I need to question her!"
Lestrade tilted his head back, trying to quell Sherlock's excitement. Rachel was a dead end. Literally. "She's dead."
"Excellent." But Sherlock's excitement and glee only increased and John drew his eyebrows together at the reaction, his amusement dissipated completely. Sherlock was entirely in Lestrade's space, intense gaze locked with Lestrade's. "How, when, and why? Is there a connection? There has to be!" He was gesturing with his hands, and probably had a dozen or so ideas swirling around in that odd head of his. Lestrade knew they were reaching the Danger Zone, as Sherlock was becoming manic, his speech rapid.
"I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years." Lestrade didn't mind bursting Sherlock's bubble and slamming him back down to reality with the rest of them. He saw himself as a bit of an expert of it, now. "Technically, she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter fourteen years ago."
Sometimes it was a bit amusing watching Sherlock flounder in his confusion. He drew back, eyes slightly unfocused as all his theories and ideas sizzled up and burned before him. "That's not right..." he murmured quietly, unable to grasp and understand the information presented. "How... why would she do that...? Why...?" Frustration rang in his tone as he attempted and failed to understand.
"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?" Anderson cut in, snidely. "Yeah, sociopath, I'm seeing it now."
Sherlock turned, sneering at Anderson's utter idiocy. He was beyond help. "She didn't think about her daughter," Sherlock informed him haughtily. "She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort, it would have hurt." Sherlock relished in the look Anderson was sending him and stalked past the useless Detective Inspector, searching, searching for meaning behind all of this!
Sherlock's words tugged a thought in Haley, whose fingers paused against her on-screen keyboard as she pondered it thoughtfully: if she had been Jennifer, why would she be scratching a name into the floor? Sherlock was pacing, becoming increasingly frustrated, and Haley stared at her phone – her phone. Her life line... If she was dying, knew she was being killed, what would she write – Oh. Oh! Oh, oh, oh, oh!
"Sherlock..." Haley's voice shook, quiet, snapping Sherlock's attention towards her. Her eyes were lifting from her phone, realization flooding her face, her excited, bright, eyes finding Sherlock's. "Oh my God. Oh my God! Oh my GOD, Sherlock!" Suddenly it was all so clear and Haley couldn't believe that Sherlock hadn't seen this, hadn't gotten it! Her mind was rushing ecstatically. "Rachel! Rachel, Sherlock!" Haley fluttered closer to him, bouncing on her heels, as she held her phone up. Sherlock's eyes flickered to it, then to Haley's gleeful face, very nearly swept up in her reaction and taken aback by it simultaneously. And then it clicked, it all clicked into place, and suddenly everything made so much sense!
Sherlock's eyes lit up, his grin almost manic, matching Haley's, as the rush of her excitement filled him. "Of course! Rachel! How could I have not realized?" Sherlock swooped down, grabbing Haley by the shoulders, seized by the euphoria of understanding that he swept her about the room in a mock dance, very nearly lifting her off the ground. "Smart, clever, useful little assistant!"
Sherlock promptly let her go and Haley staggered as her feet landed on the floor unsteadily, not the least bit deterred from her rapidly growing excited mood. She turned gleefully to John only to be taken aback by the look of complete confusion on his face. "Rachel?" John prompted, eyes sliding from hers, to Sherlock's, and Haley's once bright smile dimmed as she realized that John hadn't connected the pieces together.
But how could that be? Didn't he see how obvious it all was now? Haley's frown grew as her she turned around, to the equally confused Lestrade, and then around them to the on staring cops, all frowning in confusion, or staring at her and Sherlock like they were nuts. Never in her life had Haley ever felt so... isolated. How was it that nobody else made the connection when it all seemed so... obvious? Haley's eyes met Sherlock's, slightly rounder than before, her lips tugged downward, needing him to explain why they seemed to be the only ones who understood. Sherlock's observant eyes were locked onto her, giving nothing away to this odd predicament.
"Yes, will one of you please explain?" Lestrade cut in impatiently and a sliver of understanding flickered in Sherlock's gaze as he regarded Haley. How interesting... he had missed something in his earlier deduction about her, something that was becoming clearer and clearer.
"Enlighten them, Whitman," Sherlock instructed almost lazily, looping his arms behind his back.
"Oh no, I couldn't, boss." Haley shook her head. She wasn't one to steal the spotlight Sherlock clearly loved. That and she was feeling slightly... self-conscious now, for whatever reason, something the young woman never really experienced before.
"Go on," Sherlock encouraged with a slight smirk, delighted that he could show off his clever assistant to a room of fully trained professional idiots. "You managed to make the connection before I. It's yours to explain."
"It's your case, boss, I insist!" Haley refused again with a grin. She had only figured out a fraction of what Sherlock had, she was sure. He'd make a much better show of it than she would, anyway. "The way you go off on your deductions is pure brilliance, I couldn't rob us of that."
"Oh God," Anderson groaned, in a stage whisper to Donovan. "Is this their version of flirting?"
"Hardly, Anderson, neither of us are wearing a lacy pair of lingerie." Sherlock quipped before gliding around Haley who – after a beat – burst into hysterics, John doing a terrible job of disguising his own laughs. Anderson went red, sputtering angrily. "I'll explain, but Anderson must leave – he's distracting my assistants!"
"Not your assistant." John corrected quickly, though nobody seemed to hear him at all. "Not his assistant." He said again, to Haley, who merely shook her head at him, grinning, and returned to her phone. After all, she was busy and itching to continue her newest project.
"Anderson, step out for a moment," Lestrade instructed, waving his hand toward the door as Mrs. Hudson popped into the room.
"Isn't the doorbell working?" Mrs. Hudson wondered with a frown, looking from Sherlock, to John and then to Haley. Only John acknowledged her presence.
"Jesus Christ, you can't be serious?" Anderson protested angrily, shock and anger flashing across his face.
"Your taxis here, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson told the excited detective in a doting manner, eyes trailing across the room as her frown grew, but Sherlock acted as though he hadn't heard her, gleefully pacing back and forth in front of John and Haley, rubbing his hands together.
"Out." Lestrade sighed and Anderson released a huff, loudly stomping towards the door, muttering. Lestrade rubbed his forehead in aggravation, turning to Sherlock pointedly, who began to chuckle to himself. "Well? On with it, then."
"Oh, dear, they're making such a mess," Mrs. Hudson continued on with a concerned frown, looking to John for answers. "What are they looking for?"
"She was clever, oh so very clever, yeeeees! And it's lucky you have me leading you to the truth, otherwise all her clever work would have been wasted!" Sherlock boasted smugly causing Lestrade to roll his eyes.
"It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson." John informed her quietly, so not to disturb Sherlock's ranting, and Mrs. Hudson looked rather alarmed, gesturing to her hip.
"Get on with it, Sherlock!" Lestrade snapped impatiently, releasing a long breath through his nose. "We haven't all night!"
"But they're just for my hip," Mrs. Hudson explained, as though that would sort this whole mess up and John shifted awkwardly, turning to Haley but she was consumed, yet again, with that blasted phone, utterly oblivious to her surroundings. "They're herbal soothers."
"Yes, yes, now go away," Sherlock commanded distantly, distractedly, making a shooing motion with his hand and Mrs. Hudson looked rather offended.
"What about your taxi?"
But Sherlock wasn't listening to her, caught up in his glee. "It hadn't occurred to me, as such sentimental things don't, that she would use her long dead daughter's name for a password!"
"Password?" John questioned raising his eyebrows as he glanced toward Haley then toward Sherlock. "For what?"
"Her phone, John! Think! She hadn't lost it, someone clever like Jennifer wouldn't have! She planted it on him! She knew she was going to her death, she left the phone in order to lead us to her killer!"
"Why would we need her password, though?" John continued with a frown and Sherlock stopped mid-pace to simply stare at him incredulously. John stared back at Sherlock, wondering what he had missed. "I mean, yeah, it's nice to know what she had meant by carving that name into the floor, but we have Haley..." John slid a glance to the hacker, uncertainly, before looking back to Sherlock. "She obviously doesn't need a password to get into a phone. She doesn't even need the phone to get into the phone."
A beat of silence passed in which John shifted his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, Sherlock and Lestrade staring at him (Lestrade more like squinting while Sherlock's was just blank). He nudged Haley's elbow with his own, trying to gain her attention and maybe, dunno, back him up on this! An 'oh, yeah, I can do that!' would work wonders right now! Haley merely nudged him back, her eyes never leaving her phone.
"What?" Lestrade was the first to break the silence which sprang Sherlock back into awareness, snapping him from his daze. Stupid, stupid, of course! He'd been so slow, so very slow, how could he have overlooked Haley's usefulness? "What d'you mean she doesn't need her phone to get into her phone?" Lestrade continued, turning to Sherlock with a demanding, accusing, look, but Sherlock was already springing upon the oblivious Haley.
"Whitman!" Sherlock commanded loudly, slinking behind the hacker, long fingers curling around her shoulders as he sped walked her across the room, towards the table with the laptop.
"Hold on." Haley mumbled distractedly as Sherlock shoved her down onto the chair. Her fingers stilled, the program disappearing before Sherlock got any real look at it (not that he was trying), and she tilted her head upward to meet his expectant, impatient, stare. "What can I do for you, boss?"
"Don't be dense, Whitman, locate her phone!" Sherlock shot off with impatience, bouncing a little on the balls of his heels, as he rattled off the number to Haley. "We locate the phone, we locate the killer!"
"Oh, please, I can do so much more than just that." Haley said with a roll of her eyes, removing her earrings quickly. They were starting to get heavy, and Haley didn't much like wearing jewelry. It made her feel weighed down.
"Great, so you have yourself a hacker." Anderson growled from the doorway, obviously putting two and two together on why Sherlock's freak friends giggled whenever he spoke and how Sherlock came by that unfortunate bit of information. "What are you going to do? Read her texts?"
"Anderson, don't talk out loud," Sherlock drawled quickly, not even bothering to turn around to face the irritated man. "You lower the IQ of the whole street."
"You should write fortune cookies for a living." Haley murmured offhandedly to Sherlock, tugging out a long chain from under her shirt. It was rather simple, a small silver flower pendent hanging at the end. She twisted one of the pedals, revealing a USB port which she plugged into the laptop. "John, c'mere, I need you."
John straightened slightly as he approached Haley dutifully, wondering what she could possibly need, and feeling slightly excited about being useful to someone who seemed to be able to do it all, while Lestrade screwed his face up in disbelief. "You two are joking, right?" Lestrade wondered incredulously. "A hacker? Really?"
"As though I would employ those without extraordinary abilities." Sherlock muttered haughtily, both John and Haley choosing to keep quiet that neither of them were being paid. Haley turned to the doctor, dropping her earrings into his hand.
"I can't work with those things in my ear, give them to the silver haired fox." Haley instructed before turning back to the laptop, fingertips gliding expertly across the glossy black keyboard fluidly and John deflated somewhat, frowning at the earrings. "Is that all you want? The phone's location? I can do so much more –"
"Yes, yes," Sherlock said quickly, impatiently. "Before the battery dies! Just get the location and then dazzle everyone with your amazing abilities..." Sherlock's voice was loaded with sarcastic ire while John sighed.
"The silver haired fox?" John wondered irritably, annoyed that he hadn't been needed. "I thought these were important earrings? The ones your father gave you?"
"Yes and now he's dead so what's the point of wearing them?" Haley murmured back distractedly, pausing in her typing to lift her hands above her and doing obnoxious air quotes. "And who else but that foxy cop with the silver hair? Have him give them to his wife, that'll sure fix all their issues!"
"Me?" Lestrade looked rather flattered, unfolding his arms as John handed him the rather nice pair of diamond earrings. "Detective Inspector, actually..." he murmured, eyebrows raising as he held the diamonds up. "Are these real?"
"I thought you didn't date." John huffed, annoyed, though he wasn't sure why he was annoyed, and Haley rolled her shoulder upward, though Sherlock wondered why John couldn't see what Haley was obviously doing. She was hardly interested in Lestrade, but she was clever enough to get on his good side, butter the Detective Inspector up which would clearly have him more lenient about allowing her onto crime scenes with them. Clever assistant, indeed!
"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate." Haley muttered much to Lestrade's flattered happiness, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly, as he confirmed his suspicions. With the ease Haley had given away her earrings and how disinterested she was of her father's coat, that only suggested one thing: she hadn't been wearing either for sentimental reasons. Then why wear them?
"Your father went to his own funeral." Sherlock deduced, unable to help himself.
"That doesn't make any sense." Lestrade was entirely ignored as Haley hummed.
"Wouldn't you?" The hacker asked distractedly, not giving Sherlock her impressed stares, as she zeroed in on the location of the phone. "Daddy is a rather egoistical jackass with a lot of exs who were very distraught over his sudden death."
Sherlock bounced on his heels, feeling antsy, having all this energy and nothing to do with it! How long would this take her? He wanted the killer's location now! Instead, Sherlock focused all his attention onto Haley, having nothing else to deduce but her. Hmmm. How interesting. Yes, it was making more sense now, he was connecting pieces he had initially missed about Haley – things she hadn't bothered to correct him when he first made his deductions. Oh, Sherlock had been so very wrong about his first deduction about her! She hadn't gone to boarding school – she was home-schooled, privately tutored, which was what brought her to the conclusion that Sherlock had been home-schooled for a period. Shared experience. Trapped with a bunch of brilliant children explained her confusion earlier, there had never been a time in her spoiled little life in which Haley wasn't surrounded by smart, quick, clever people who kept up with her easily. But what was the likelihood that Haley had four siblings who must have been seen as prodigies? Very, very slim. And Haley's willingness to kill her father off suggested many things – but the most obvious for this case, was to impress him, to show off... No. It was because she felt she owed him. Yes, that made much more sense. But what would make a child feel like they owe their parent something? A parent with five brilliant children?
Conclusion: "You're adopted."
"Sherlock." John groaned, disapprovingly, and Sherlock turned to look at the doctor, puzzled by John's reaction. "You don't just announce that sort of thing!"
"SHERLOCK!" Haley exploded in a fit of rage, slamming her hands down on the desk and ripping her USB port from the laptop. She screeched his name with such fury that Sherlock, flickering his gaze back toward her, found his grin stretching at the amount of power his deduction held over the hacker. He watched, with amusement, as Haley angrily turned around in the seat to glare at him. That had been information only a small handful of people were privy to – most being herself, her brothers, and their father! Furiously, she whipped her phone out threateningly and Sherlock's complete indifference to her reaction only fueled her rage. "That is one of – I don't know how you even..." She sputtered incoherently, her cheeks flushing, and it only brought Sherlock even more silent amusement. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you in a room full of cops and not one of them will be able to find any evidence at all that it was me!"
"I heard nothing." Anderson quipped darkly from the doorway but chose not to say anymore at Lestrade's look.
"Oh, do be creative about it, Whitman." Sherlock drawled idly, appearing unconcerned. Her threat did nothing but intrigue him. Surely there would never be a moment of boredom with Haley's useful little skills, and Sherlock wondered how far he could push her, and what drastic reaction would be the result. "Give the Scotland Yard something to really puzzle over."
Mrs. Hudson hovered, slightly anxiously, in the doorway. "Sherlock, dear, this taxi driver..."
"I'm destroying you financially." Haley hissed at Sherlock, her elbows propped on the back of the chair, her fingers flying away at her phone, and Sherlock merely smirked challengingly back at her. It was good to know Haley's pressure points. Neither paid Mrs. Hudson any attention.
"Could we have this domestic later?" John wondered loudly, trying to quell the potential blow-out between Haley and Sherlock. "It was a bit insensitive of Sherlock to point that out, yeah, but..."
"Is she serious about these threats?" Lestrade honestly was torn between amusement and attempting to take this hacker stuff seriously. John quickly shook his head despite not being too sure himself.
"Kill me after you've located the phone, Whitman, honestly." Sherlock said dismissively, stepping aside as Haley flung the closet thing to her – which happened to be a book. It soared past Sherlock, very nearly hitting Anderson, who gave an irritated huff.
"You screwed up, the phone is here, you jackass!" Haley said angrily, heatedly, and Sherlock was no longer hearing her, swept up in his thoughts – here...?
The phone was... Here? How could it be here...? Unless... unless...
Who could hunt in the middle of a crowd? Who was universally trusted...? Who could come and go, unnoticed, as they pleased...? Of course – of course. Taxi. Taxi, taxi, taxi! Haley had unwittingly told him the answer! His phone ping'd, going unnoticed by everyone but Sherlock, his gaze dropping down to it, before shifting toward the cabbie hovering in the doorway. The murderer had come to him. This was new. John and Lestrade were speaking quietly to one another, their words rolling unheard over Sherlock, who tilted his gaze toward Haley. Her silly anger had faded from her, thoughtful curiosity replacing it as she followed his line of thought just by watching his expression shift. He watched her gaze slink toward the doorway, watched as understanding bloomed across her expression, before she quickly glanced back toward Sherlock. Their eyes locked, his order easily read: say nothing. Haley's eyebrows slowly slid upward as her gaze fell back to her phone, and Sherlock, consumed with every single possibility as to why the murderer would come seek him out, drifted toward the doorway.
"Sherlock?" John's voice nearly snagged Sherlock's attention, who merely tilted his head toward him, eyes unfocused slightly as his thoughts swirled. John, noticing the change, glanced between Sherlock and the now silent Haley. "Sherlock?" He repeated. "You alright?"
"What?" Sherlock murmured distantly, distractedly. "Yes. Yes. I'm fine."
John hardly looked convinced, eyes flickering between Sherlock and Haley. He had missed something, damn it. "How can the phone be here?"
"No... It's not." Haley said in an odd voice, lifting her head from her phone, watching Sherlock in a strange way. "Made an error."
"Ah, okay." John said, not believing a word she said, turning back to Sherlock who was drifting toward the doorway. "Where are you going?"
"Need air." Sherlock muttered, floating from the room, with John frowning after him. What the hell...? He had been talking to Lestrade for half a second, what could he have possibly missed?
"You sure you're alright?"
"Fine," Sherlock called back to him and John turned to Haley with a look. Something was going on, and they needed to include him!
"What was that?" John demanded, turning to Haley, but she was furiously working away on her blasted phone. "Haley!"
"Shh, John, I'm busy!" Haley snapped back at him, a slight urgency in her voice that caused the doctor to pause a bit.
Given the fact that her boss had just walked away with a murderer, Haley felt that she now needed to get all the irrefutable evidence that this cab driver was, in fact, the murderer. Which meant Haley needed to multitask, and quickly. It wouldn't take much to break into Scotland Yard to figure out who the other victims were – but from there, she'd need to access all information surrounding the times near their deaths – needed proof that they had gotten into his cab. She could hack into the CCTV cameras easily enough, but Haley needed more than that. Pulling her lip into her mouth, she rolled it uneasily between her teeth, recalling the cab number.
Feeling frustrated, John watched Haley completely ignore him, and then turned toward the window, watching Sherlock speak to the cabbie for a moment before... was he leaving? Where the hell was he going? They were in the middle of a case! With Haley completely out of it, Sherlock gone, and the Lestrade deciding that they were done here, John felt his frustration rise. Muttering to himself, John stomped across the room, to the pink case, taking one last look at it before one of the coppers decided to snatch it up. A label caught his attention and he tilted his head, reading the email address.
Is that why Sherlock was giddy over figuring out the password? Could having the email address and password mean that he could... what? Locate the phone? ...Haley had said the phone was here, but then why would Sherlock leave...? Had she been lying and given Sherlock the real location? Perhaps... there was a way to locate a phone without hacking skills? John sighed, frustrated, and stalked to the laptop, pulling up the website and entering the information. He considered himself a patient man, but Christ, this little clock swirling on the web page was testing this.
It had taken the little pretend drugs bust an all of ten minutes to clear out, Lestrade have given some kind of speech about how Sherlock could be, one day, a good man and John waited a beat in silence before he spun around to Haley, ripping the phone from her hands.
"What is going on?" John demanded as Haley snapped her head up, mouth opening to protest. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "You'll get it back after you explain."
"I'm in the middle of gathering evidence that the cab driver is the murderer, John!" Haley screeched back at him urgently, holding her hand out for her phone, and John blinked back at her.
"The cab –" he began, confused, before understanding broke across his expression. "The one Sherlock went off with?!" John burst out heatedly and Haley had the decency to look a bit ashamed. "Why – you – you didn't say anything!"
"The boss said not to!" Haley defended, sliding off the chair, trying to get her phone back but John merely held it over his head. "John!"
"When did he say that?" John demanded incredulously, swatting away all her attempts at grabbing the phone. "I don't remember him saying a damn thing about running off with a murderer and us to just sit here!"
"He said it with his eyes, John! He looked deep into my soul and commanded me to not say a word! I'm legally bound to obey!"
"Legally – ?" John cut himself off, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Both Haley and Sherlock had an addiction for the dramatics! Before he could say another word, the laptop ding'd and in his momentary distraction, Haley snatched her phone back. John shifted closer to the laptop, eyes widening. "The address! I know where they are!"
Haley, realizing what that meant, glanced about the apartment. "Where are the police!" Shouldn't they be here? When had they left? And why? Shouldn't the police be the ones to be heading out instead of them?
"Gone." John murmured, racing toward the door and Haley scrambled, following after him. If he was going after the murderer and Sherlock, than so was she!
They burst into the chilly evening air, John hailing down a cab within minutes. He had all but shouted the address to the cabbie who was a little bit more than annoyed at their brisk, rushing, attitudes.
"He's been receiving money," Haley muttered, the light of her phone illuminating her face, and John, who was trying to get a hold of Lestrade on his, shot her a glance. "There's large deposits of money that went into his account that correspond to the dates of the murders... Were they random, or is there a hit list?"
"Can you figure out who's sending him the money – Lestrade! It's John! Ah – Sherlock's... assistant." He grimaced at the title, but he didn't have the time to explain or remind Lestrade as to who he was, while Haley began working on trying to trace the money back to the source. "It's Sherlock – he's with the murderer, right now. Yeah. Yeah." John quickly rattled off the address and promptly hung up, determination flickering across his expression as frustration grew on Haley's.
The cab was slowing down and the two were tumbling out of the cab before it fully stopped. The cabbie shouted at them – but his words were lost in the rush of their adrenaline, and the two stared at the twin buildings looming before them.
"Which building? Which building?" John was muttering as Haley glanced between the two, worrying on her bottom lip.
"Left, go left!" Haley hissed, shoving him toward the building and as though spurred on by a thought, the two suddenly burst into running, an urgency to find Sherlock jolting through them wildly, as though time itself was speeding by and every second of it could be his last.
Haley lost track of the halls they bolted down, the doors they'd torn open, each time they rounded a corner, or burst into a room, only to find that Sherlock was no where to be seen, their anxiety and urgency grew. John was swearing under his breath and suddenly skidded to a stop, snatching Haley's hand, snapping her attention towards him and then towards the window he was gaping at. Her pulse skipped as she realized that it was Sherlock, in the other building, with the murderer!
"Sherlock!"
"What... what the hell is he doing?" Haley wondered in a slightly hysterical voice, anxiety flooding, consuming, her expression while John's shifted into one of concentration, trained eyes quickly sweeping across Sherlock and the cabbie, assessing the potential threat level. Every inch of him became focused, zeroing in, as he expertly read the body language. "What is he doing?!" Haley repeated, more to herself, as John pulled his gun out with steady hands, determining where to shoot the cabbie if need be. "What – is that... are they doing... are those pills? Are they doing drugs? John?" She turned to him, anxiously, and jumped, her eyes widening as they focused on the weapon in his hands. "Is that a gun?! John! What are – where did you get that gun?!" Her voice rose a few octaves in her hysteria.
"Haley, breathe." John was very much in control, voice leveled and calm. Somehow it transferred over to Haley who took in a staggering breath, trying to slow both her heart rate and her breathing. "Good. Now, I need you to open the window, alright? Can you do that for me?"
She stared at him incredulously, so completely out of her element. But John was so calm, so collected, that she clung to that – he knew what he was doing. And so she thoughtlessly followed his direction, nodding jerkily as she stumbled forward, fumbling with the latch. He took a step forward, aiming his gun with meticulous precision, not taking his eyes off the target while Haley scrambled backwards. He paused, his head tilting slightly in Haley's direction.
"Cover your ears, yeah?"
Haley scrambled to comply, clamping her hands over her ears tightly. But the resounding BANG caused the hacker to jump, releasing a startled yelp, only to find herself being hurled to the ground seconds later by John who had grabbed her by the elbow. A moment passed in which Haley's mind fell blank and she stared at John with wide eyes, not seeming to be registering that they were crouched under the window. John frowned back at her, realizing that Haley was probably in shock. Lovely.
"John...?"
"Mm?"
"Did you just shoot someone?"
"Uh. Yep."
Haley gaped at him, eyes large and round, face pale. "Is he... is he, you know..." her voice fell into a whisper. "Dead?"
"Ah." John's eyes tilted upward, as though thinking it over, before giving a curt nod. "Yeah. Pretty sure." He tugged her elbow, forcing her to follow him as he pulled them back to their feet, hurrying her down the hall. "Now we're fleeing a crime scene."
"Crime – ?"
"Yes, Haley," John said in an oddly light voice as he dragged the stunned American down the halls before Sherlock had a chance to catch up with them. "Crime scene. I've shot a man and now we're making a run for it. You're an accessory to a murder. I hope you have a fantastic lawyer for us."
"What the fu –"
"Welcome to London!" John quoted Sherlock sarcastically, not seeing the look of sheer incredulous dumbfounded shock Haley was throwing his way.
If anyone actually read this, thanks! And sorry. I cut the chapter in half because, lord, those who know me, know I just can't stop writing monster chapters and I don't want to be overwhelming. Review, maybe?