"Sherlock, don't lie," John said, almost the instant Sherlock returned from the stairwell. "I know you know who that man is."
John realized now that he probably shouldn't have brought it up. Sherlock's face held emotions that he had never seen or even thought to associate Sherlock with. He looked exhausted, but more than that, Sherlock looked regretful. Regret was not something that Sherlock ever did, even after all the years that John had known him.
Sherlock's response came, not in the argumentative tone John knew but in a tired voice. "I do not."
John was half way between wanting to strangle Sherlock for lying and comforting him, none of which would have good an effect, so John opted for the option of leaving the room. He left the now silent living room, leaving Sherlock in the same position he had found him, lying on the couch staring at the ceiling.
John returned to his room, trying to decide if he could just finish his tea now that he had time to himself, but he decided that would be inconsiderate to his friend laying shocked downstairs, not that Sherlock ever cared about anything like proper courtesy to friends. Still, John decided just to sit there, which turned out not to be the best idea either. He kept thinking of that boy, but that brought back the image of Sherlock's reaction and that was something that John didn't want to face.
John was just picking up a book when his door swung open. Sherlock appeared in front of John, as pretentious as ever.
"John, There's been another murder. We're leaving, now. God knows that Lestrade already managed to mess up the crime scene," Sherlock said in his rapid tone of voice that almost seemed forced.
Sherlock didn't wait for John to follow him, which he supposed would make any normal person mad, but John had lost the notion that he was a normal person years ago. So John came hurrying down the stairs behind him, coat and cane in one hand.
The bright lights of the crime scene came into view. He fell behind Sherlock as he walked, the routine familiar to him, not necessarily boring just familiar. The crime scene was centered around a coffee shop that would have been quaint if it wasn't surrounded by police cars and had all it's window's smashed in. He supposed it would have been something he would've enjoyed going to himself.
As he struggled to keep up with Sherlock due to his insistence at walking way quicker than the average human being and to their unfair height difference, Lestrade moved easily to walk beside them.
"It's clear to go in, but I'm warning you. It's a little gruesome," Lestrade said, leading them through the glass door to the coffee shop.
The coffee shop turned out to be considerably bigger on the inside then it appeared on the outside. It was furnished with light wooden chairs and tables and doused in warm brown colours. Behind the polished wooden counters was a scene that contrasted so drastically with the rest of the room around it that it would have made any normal man cringe in disgust, but as John had come to acknowledge many times, he was not a normal man.
Staring at the bodies, John understood why Lestrade had called them. The first body was surrounded by scorch marks, and the body itself, well what was left of it, was almost completely burned down to the bones. The two other bodies were a little less gruesome, but their bodies were mangled as if the bones were broken. The way they were positioned made it look as if they were thrown into the wall, but even a full grown man wouldn't have been able to throw them hard enough to produce that much damage.
After looking over the bodies himself, Sherlock turned to John from his crouched position next to the second body.
"What do you think, John," Sherlock said, following the pattern of their typical investigation. John knelt down beside Sherlock, leaning over the body. He carefully touched up and down the legs and neck, feeling for any breaks or fractures.
"The right arm is completely shattered, as well as the collarbone," John said, turning to lock at Sherlock. He turned back to the task at hand and slowly flipped the body over. "The back is broken in several places, and it looks like a breakage across the spine is what killed him." The man had the typical signs that you would see if he was exposed to high force such as a car crash or in this case being thrown against a wall, but the damage shouldn't have been this severe. He stood up, standing next to Sherlock, who had his face drawn in concentration and a hand under his chin.
"Sherlock, there is no way this man was thrown. His bones would have had to have been broken before," John said to Sherlock. He had meant it to come out firmer, but the statement ended up sounding like a question.
"Right but wrong, John. You never see anything, do you?" Sherlock looked at John, his 'I am surrounded by idiots' face very evident on his face.
"How do you survive?" he muttered. "Nothing was done to the body before.
"There is no bruising of weapons or hands that would've been required to fracture bones that badly. Infact, there is no evidence that anyone touched this man at all," Sherlock said his pace rapidly increasing.
"Which of course means that he couldn't have been thrown either. Unless our killer took specific time to hide and avoid leaving marks, which didn't happen because they were obviously in a hurry," Sherlock walked over to the counter followed by John and then Lestrade.
"The killer wasn't here to kill these people. They were here to do something else."
"But we already checked. Nothing was taken. It wasn't a robbery," Lestrade interrupted Sherlock. Sherlock in return glared at him.
"Yes, I know, but look at the sink. There is still water in it. If that was left in there at 10 o'clock when the last employee went home, it would have dried by now." John looked at the sink Sherlock was gesturing at, and wasn't surprised to see that water droplets were still spewed across the metallic surface.
"And look at the cupboard. A few of the lids to these herbs aren't screwed on. They're placed, like the person didn't have time to fit them back on properly. The killer must have been doing something with the ingredients in the coffee shop, but what could a simple coffee shop offer someone that they would kill for it?" Sherlock looked up. Though his face showed no signs, John knew that Sherlock had just come to a revelation.
"John, check the mens' jacket," Sherlock said. He was facing away from John, deep in thought and didn't bother to explain anything despite the fact that John knew he was dying for the chance to show off.
John walked over to the bodies, searching through pockets and patting down the surface to look for what Sherlock was referring to. He gave up and was prepared to just let Sherlock rub it in his face when he noticed what he had missed about the jackets; the logo on the pocket was the same on both jackets. The symbol was a simple red and gold lion, but it looked professional, meaning it was probably from an organization or company.
"Okay fine, go ahead, Sherlock. How did you know that?" John said sounding disinterested as always, but really, like always, very curious.
"It's simple really, John. Think about it. Why would there be three men in a coffee shop after it was closed?" A question that John didn't bother attempting to answer.
"Maybe, they were working with the killer? No, if the killer was trying to get rid of their colleagues, they wouldn't have left evidence, so they men had to have followed them in. But why did they follow our killer in?" At this point Sherlock was pacing around the room, not exactly talking to himself but not talking to John either.
"The answer to that is also the answer to why our killer was here in the first place," Sherlock paused for a second, which John thought was just a tad dramatic.
"Its because this place isn't a real coffee shop, and those men are here to make sure no one figures that out. Come on, these spices aren't something you find in a coffee shop," Sherlock said, sniffing some of the spices he had grabbed in his hand.
"It's a front for something -"
Sherlock's rant was stopped by the door shutting rather forcefully.
"I thought I told you to stay away from this," A familiar and slightly aggravated voice came from the doorway. Both Sherlock and John looked up only to be met with the same boy that he hoped never to see again.
So how was it? I know there was no Merlin in it, but don't worry. There will be lots of Merlin in the next chapter. So I'm thinking of updating on Mondays, but it may change to Tuesdays. I'll try to post on schedule cause I know how annoying it is when people don't. So yep. Please review, tell me if you like or hate it, and feel free to ask questions. Bye