Author's note: This is a Geography AU – Sherlock and John are not British. They are Austrian and living in Vienna. I couldn't resist.
Written for a tumblr challenge.
Being an army doctor is not as exciting as he pictured it, but he supposes it goes with the territory when you live in a neutral country.
He's been on a few humanitarian missions, of course, and is aware how important his work was. And he does a good job at the Rossauerkaserne. He tells himself he is ungrateful, but the truth is that he's bored.
He's typically Viennese. Never satisfied.
He supposes it could be so much worse. He could live in a country that actually participates in wars. He could get shot.
Still, he's bored.
He resigns himself to it. And, really, it's not that boring, with trying to get Harry to quit and explain his name to people ("My grandfather was British. He settled down here after the war. He had met someone. And John – My father just liked it better than "Johann") and cleaning wounds. He'll never understand how someone manages to cut himself during a training manoeuvre.
It all changes on a day in June.
Now and then, two recruits fight. It's not surprising. Most don't want to do their stunt in the military, and they are young. So when he hears shouting, he thinks that he might have to put a plaster on someone soon.
Instead, one of the professionals comes running, a young Korporal.
"Doktor Watson – there has been..." He has to stop, breathing heavily, and John quickly brings him a glass of water because he might be about to faint.
"There's been a murder."
"What?"
It's unheard of. Vienna is a safe city in general, and why would anyone want to commit murder in a Kaserne? It doesn't make sense. John runs anyway, and sure enough, another Korporal is lying at the bottom of the stairs. He has obviously been stabbed in the chest a few times.
John searches for a pulse; there isn't one.
"Has the police been notified?" he asks.
The Korporal nods.
"Good, then. Inform your superiors".
He isn't really a part of the hierarchy – he's the doctor. But there are still those who pay him respect, and the Korporal is one of them. He does as John tells him.
He moves back and waits for the police. While he is waiting, he tries to remember the name of the man. He's seen him a few times, but never as a patient.
Kaiser. That's it. Korporal Kaiser. He was polite, as far as John remembers, and didn't call attention to the fact that he came from a line of Gerenals. It was a welcome deviation from the norm.
It's Menschein, the young Korporal who found the body, who leads the police to the staircase. He's still pale but in possession of himself. The Kommissar nods at John.
"Kommissar Huber."
"Doktor Watson".
He sees the old question in the man's eyes. Nobody pays attention to Easter names, but an English name always causes some curiosity.
Huber doesn't ask, though.
"When did you arrive?" he asks.
"14:34" John answers because he looked at his watch as he entered the staircase because he knew he would be asked. "He was already dead, and the body was cold. He must have been dead quite some time".
The Kommissar nods.
"What can you tell me about him?"
They are just passing the time until the medical examiner and crime scene guys arrive, but John doesn't mind. He can feel excitement coursing through his veins, and he's a little ashamed at the fact, but not so much that he would excuse himself.
"Not much. His name was Kaiser. He came from a line of soldiers".
"Good relations then."
"Yes. But he didn't use them to further his career. As far as I know".
Huber nods, and soon afterwards John is free to go. He walks back to his office, his head full of questions.
He doesn't have any way to answer them, naturally. The police will do their best and he'll have to find out through gossip and newspapers.
At least that's what he thinks until the late afternoon, shortly before he can go home. The police left an hour ago and took the body with them. He hasn't left his office. Right now, there's nothing he can learn from gossip. Everyone will have his own theory.
And suddenly a stranger stands in his office.
He wouldn't be surprised if he was a member of the Bundesheer, but he clearly isn't. A soldier moves and stands in a certain way, and while this man is tall and stands up straight, he never had any training. John can tell.
"You found the body" the man begins, and the first thing that John notices is how German he speaks. Not that he uses the hard pronunciation of their neighbours, but there is no hint of a dialect in his voice. He speaks Hochdeutsch – more perfect than anyone John has ever met.
Kommissar Huber spoke Viennese, and John while he tries his best, often finds that he can't help but use certain expressions, pronounce words soft enough that it's obvious where he was born.
The second thing he notices is the arrogance of the man. His name stands on the door, and seldom people address him differently than "Herr Doktor". This man doesn't address him at all. Just stands there and expects him to answer his question.
"Who are you?" he asks, and thankfully he's irritated enough that his words come out clear; he has often been told that he speaks Hochdeutsch when he's angry. He never thought he'd be happy about it. A moment later, he asks himself why he should care. It's not that he's ever been ashamed of where he comes from.
"Sherlock Holmes" the man says, and for the first time, John finds himself thinking about a name instead of the other way round. "And you are Doktor Watson" he states; he obviously wants to say something else, with the way his gaze sweeps up and down his body, but John interrupts him because he feels the urge to gain control of the situation. It's just too strange to be told "You found the body" and expected to be holding a conversation afterwards.
"Yes" he says, "I've been working here for ten years". In the next moment he feels stupid. Why did he add that? Maybe because after he said Yes, the man simply stood there and he needed to fill the silence.
"21st or 22nd?" the man asks, and John stares.
"22nd" he finally replies, because that's the district he comes from. "How – "
"The way you pronounced "Here"" the man says. "Only people from Transdanubien use it like this – it was clear that you didn't mean the office, but the part of town, and that you saw it as a strange country".
John wouldn't go so far, but he's always been proud to hail from Donaustadt, one of the two districts across the Danube, where the air is clear and he doesn't need much time to drive into the city regardless. He still lives there. He doesn't expect to move.
"Your name is Watson, so you have an ancestor who's British – your family has been here long enough to integrate, so a grandparent. Parental grandfather, most likely. You have been on a few humanitarian missions, and you are obviously bored. Now would you please answer my question?"
"You didn't ask a question" he points out, because the man's comment when he entered the office can hardly be called that.
He sighs.
"Did you find the body?"
His politeness is obviously faked, but John answers anyway. He suspects the man doesn't have a permission to be here, much less to investigate the murder – he would have shown him a badge or introduced himself if that was the case – but he doesn't care because he's curious.
"No, but I was first to take a closer look at it".
Sherlock nods. "I know. Menschein is an idiot".
John looks at him.
"Did you notice anything strange?"
"He had been dead for some time" John says, because it is strange. Someone should have found him before he'd grown cold. The staircase leads to the offices in the first floor, and there's always coming and going.
Sherlock almost looks impressed, and John uses this to ask, "Sherlock?"
The man rolls his eyes. "I assumed that with a name like yours you wouldn't be interested."
"I get the Holmes part – probably another grandparent" and Sherlock's smirk told him that he was right, "but Sherlock?"
"My parents are eccentric" he says and John mumbles, "Can't imagine".
This earns him another curious look, but it's not hostile.
"What about Menschein?" he asks, "Why is he an idiot?"
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Because he thinks he can deny his affair with the victim."
John didn't see that coming. He never heard any rumours about them, and that means they must have been discreet.
"It could be a motive" Sherlock muses, "but he's innocent".
John doesn't ask how he knows. It's obvious he does.
"Then, of course, Kaiser was embezzling money. He was responsible for ordering supplies, and he always wrote down a much higher price than it really cost" Sherlock says. "I have no idea why nobody noticed."
"He had a name" John replies automatically while he looks at the man and tries to understand why he's here and knows everything.
Sherlock shakes his head. "Really, a name will get you everything" he sneers.
"What are you doing?" John asks.
Sherlock looks at him. "Solving the case".
"But you are –"
"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. Sadly, the police don't appreciate my help. Therefore, I have to – "
"Break in?"
"Use other means to gain information" he says so seriously that John chuckles.
Sherlock's eyes glitter.
"As a matter of fact, I could use help. Interested?"
John should say no, which is why he's somewhat surprised when he's running across the Stephansplatz a few hours later, the cathedral looming over them. And that General Mesiner is the killer, of course.
A bullet wheezes past them and he wonders why no one ever seems to be around when these kind of things happen.
"Do you have a plan?" he asks. Sherlock answers, "Don't worry, I know where we are going" and that would be a comfort if John didn't recognize the route, because he leads him down Rotenturmstraße to the Schwedenplatz, and it isn't until they're past the church of St. Ruprecht that he finally runs a way that John doesn't know. They're soon lost in a maze of small streets.
They finally stop to catch their breaths, and Sherlock texts Huber.
"With the evidence I left at his office two hours ago, it should be clear to him that he has to arrest the General".
"You said you had to look at a file" John says, because that's what Sherlock told him when they stopped at the police station and he flirted with a woman who apparently has a crush on him to see the evidence.
"Yes. I also left the letter from Kaiser that informed Mesiner that, should he be brought to justice for his embezzlement, he would make sure that the police knew the General had a hand in it as well."
"Letter? What letter?"
"The one I found in Mesiner's office before I visited you."
"Then why did you take me with you, looking at the staircase and Kaiser's office?"
"I needed an assistant. Plus, it was fun".
It was. John hasn't felt this alive in a long time. He swallows because he realizes this is it. He won't see Sherlock again.
Then, suddenly, the other man says, "I live at Kärtnerstraße".
John blinks, because flats there are expensive and he'd never have thought that Sherlock could afford it, and the man seems to feel his surprise because he adds, "I need a flatmate."
John knows what he's asking, and he realizes he doesn't mind leaving his district one bit, if it means he gets to see this madman every day. The thought should scare him, but it doesn't.
"Alright" he says, before he's aware he's about to speak.
Sherlock smiles and he knows something's beginning.
Author's note: I had a lot of fun writing this.
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