Pack your bags, John.
-SH
What? Why?
-JW
New case. Serial killer. My favorite.
-SH
But where?
-JW
United States of America. Special request from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
-SH
I'll be home soon.
-JW
Good.
-SH
The consulting detective sat motionless in the leather armchair of 221B Baker Street. The afternoon light seeped through the window, illuminating a few tiny specks of dust. It was completely silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock on the mantle. Sherlock blinked. He heard a car door shut outside. John, obviously. He heard the door slide open and didn't lift his eyes from the page he was on.
"Better hurry, John," Sherlock called.
John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm hurrying," he muttered, already climbing up the stairs to his bedroom.
He emptied his drawers of clothes and folded them quickly. He was ready about half an hour later. Sherlock had already hailed a cab and was pacing impatiently.
"Someone's excited," John said dryly.
Sherlock scoffed. "Well, yes, it is a serial killer after all. This case is different than all the other killers I've seen before. Whoever this killer is, he doesn't leave behind a hint that could be used to track them as well as the fact that he extracts the organs and presumably sells them on the black market," he said, already debating between a few possible theories.
John settled back in the seat of the cab. "Erm-that's pleasant. But why do they want you?" John queried.
"Well obviously they can't solve it and it seems as though this killer, who they have christened as the 'Chesapeake Ripper' is on a killing spree. Apparently this killer is now maiming the corpses. Why am I going you ask? For one, I've never been contacted by the FBI, so I find this rather engaging, and two, this case is interesting. Very interesting. I only concern myself with intriguing cases. You should know that by now, John," Sherlock continued, nudging John.
They rode the rest of the way to the airport in silence.
John tried to catch up to Sherlock's longs strides as they entered the crowded airport.
John's eyes scanned the various suitcases and bored looking people standing in the queue. Sherlock huffed as a scrawny man in a suit pushed past them. John rolled his eyes. "It's an airport, Sherlock, what did you expect?"
Sherlock remained silent as they made their way to the security checkpoints. John checked his watch. "We'll be in line for a while, it seems," John sighed, observing the large amount of people ahead of them.
"Passport?" the exasperated man said gruffly half an hour later. He held out his hand to John and Sherlock after they had moved through the sluggish security checkpoint. John's was stamped and he moved ahead. The man squinted at Sherlock's passport. He swallowed.
"Are you- are you really Sherlock Holmes? The detective?" the man inquired, looking hopefully up at Sherlock.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously I am if this is my passport," he sneered.
John frowned at Sherlock as he rejoined John with an emotionless composure.
They were immediately chauffeured to the terminal and onto the plane.
They arrived in Virginia about eight hours later.
The duo sat in Head of the Department of Behavioral Science: Jack Crawford's office.
"My name is Jack Crawford and I'll be the overseer of this investigation," Jack said, shaking their hands. (okay so let's do a deduction of Jack Crawford)
He sat down at the desk.
"Tea? Coffee?" he offered them.
He received a call from the secretary a few seconds later. "Please excuse me. This is an important call. Hold on, I'll be back." he said, shutting the door behind him.
Jack Crawford came in with another, weary looking man a few minutes later.
"Meet Special Agent Will Graham. He's our criminal profiler for this case," Jack said, stepping back.
Sherlock surveyed Will.
He had a face that constantly appeared troubled.
He observed as the man fiddled with his glasses. Will gave off a soft aura of innocence.
Sherlock immediately gathered that this man had seen more than just a few crime scenes. He'd faced several traumatic events and was deeply scarred by them. Receiving counseling, obviously. Sane? For the most part.
Will put out his hand for Sherlock to shake. Sherlock complied. "Hello, I'm Will Graham. I hear we'll be working together," Will said.
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Graham," Sherlock said, studying his expression.
John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's slightly surprised expression. Will shook John's hand as well.
"Doctor Watson. I see you're an army man," Will remarked.
