Disclaimer: Yeah, they're still not mine. My magic kidnapping powers must be fading…darn it! I'll think of something though.
The Freak's Flat
Sally couldn't help but think of the Freak, as she'd dubbed him after Lestrade asked her not to call him a junkie anymore, that afternoon as they tracked down the fourth member of the group. She tried not to. She didn't need the reminders of her biggest mistake but he seemed to invade her thoughts every time she turned around.
He had been right about the restaurant and the fourth member of the group. She didn't know how he'd known all that but she was reluctantly grateful for it. The hostess at the restaurant had remembered the four people and had even known the name of the fourth: Dougal McCray.
McCray however had a rock solid alibi for the time of the murder. His mother had taken a fall that night and was rushed to the hospital. McCray had received the call during the dinner and had left immediately to catch a train to Bath. He'd spent the entire night and most of the following day with his mother and family at the hospital. He'd been back in London less than an hour when they'd brought him in for questioning.
He did have information they had needed though. Apparently the thieves from the jewelry store robbery had run through a convenience store where all four of the group had been. At the time they hadn't known each other but they'd all seen the thieves drop the necklace. Etta James had picked it up and startled had placed it in her pocket when the cops ran through the store chasing the thieves. After the excitement they had all discussed what to do with the necklace and had eventually decided to hold on to it for a while until things cooled down. They mutually agreed to put the necklace in a safe deposit box with Etta having the only key, as they all trusted her.
The key was missing.
Sally glared at the report on her desk. Where was the key? Had the killer or killers taken it?
"Donovan!" Lestrade stood in the doorway of his office. "Donovan, I need a word."
Sally almost groaned. What had she done? She rose from her desk and headed to the DI's office, he waved her in and then closed the door behind them. Sally watched him questioningly. "Sir?"
Lestrade dropped into his chair and motioned her to take the one in front of his desk. "I'm going to ask you to do something." He started. "You can say no. But I need a bit of help."
Sally swallowed but nodded. "I'll help in any way that I can, sir." She just hoped this wasn't going to be him asking her to cover for the junk—Freak. She didn't think she could manage that.
"I do believe that our Consulting Detective, ridiculous title but it makes him happy, has absconded with some of our evidence." Lestrade's voice was disapproving but there was an amused light in his eyes. "I need you to round up some of the men and help me get it back."
Sally had visions of breaking into the Freak's flat and sneaking around the place trying to find their evidence. "How are we going to manage that, sir?"
Lestrade's grin sent shivers down her back. "We are going to perform a fake drug's bust."
Sally smiled. "It stops being fake when we find something."
Lestrade's grin faded and he gave her a sharp look. "We won't. Not any drugs anyway. I meant what I said, Donovan. Don't allow your prejudices to drive Sherlock back into the drugs."
"How can you be so sure he won't go back to the drugs anyway?" Sally asked him disgruntled.
"I've known Sherlock Holmes since he was fifteen years old," Lestrade confessed with a reminiscent smile. "In the ten years I've known him I've never seen him break a promise. He'll lie to you with a straight face and never think twice about it but if you can get him to make you a promise he'll stand by his word. He promised several different people he would quit using. He's gone three months and two days since then clean. We won't find anything in his flat except our missing key."
She nodded and went off to find some others to head to the Freak's flat. She didn't believe Lestrade but she hoped his confidence wasn't misplaced.
SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW
The Freak lived in a borderline neighbourhood. Sally couldn't understand that. His clothes were of a very good quality, high-end tailor made stuff but he lived in a building that was one mishap from being condemned. If he had money for clothes like that why did he live in a dump?
Lestrade knocked on the front door when the bell brought no response. Finally the door cracked open and a brown eye peered out at them from about waist height. "May I help you?" A young voice asked.
"Hello," Lestrade gave the child hiding behind the door a friendly smile. "We're looking for Sherlock Holmes."
"Whatcha need him for?"
"Oh for God's sake!" Anderson growled. "Just let us by, boy!"
The brown eye widened in fear. "Anderson!" Lestrade reprimanded sharply. "Be quiet! Now then, I'm Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade and—"
"Mr. Sherlock said you'd come!" The boy exclaimed and opened the door wider. "You did come, just like he said you would."
Lestrade looked taken aback but then he shook his head and sighed heavily. "Of course he did."
Sally eyed the DI and then the bruise decorating the boy's face. She knelt down and smiled at him. "So what happened here then?" She asked gently. "Bigger boys pick a fight?"
The boy eyed her warily. "Mr. Sherlock said to only tell the DI when he came," he stated and turned big brown eyes to Lestrade. "He said you'd help if you weren't too busy being an idiot. But that everyone's an idiot so I should just make you listen."
Lestrade sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. "Of course he did," he said again. Then he hunched down to be on eye level with the boy. "So what's the problem then?"
The boy looked over his shoulder and then back to Lestrade. He drew a deep breath.
"For fuck's sake, Lestrade, we don't have time for this!" Anderson swore. "Move out of the way, boy, and let us pass."
The boy's eyes widened again and Sally grabbed Anderson's arm and pulled him backwards so that the other officers were between them and the now furious Lestrade. Lestrade nodded at her and turned back to the boy. Sally missed whatever the boy told the DI since she was busy listening to Anderson grumble under his breath.
"Oi! What're you doin' boy?" A voice from inside the house yelled. "Lettin' all my expensive heat out to warm the street? Close that goddamned door and git in here!"
Lestrade smoothly stood and suddenly the boy was standing in front of Sally and Anderson. He looked up at them considering and assessing them. "The DI says you can be trusted. Mr. Sherlock says you're idiots, but he says that about everyone. C'mon, Sgt. Donovan, you're supposed to come to my mum's flat with me and you're supposed to go with the DI to Mr. Sherlock's." He pointed his chin at Anderson. "Don't know why. He won't be happy you're there. He's in a foul mood today anyway; you'll only make it worse."
Anderson scowled at the boy and then stalked off to join Lestrade. Sally gave the boy a smile and motioned him to lead her to his flat.
SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW
Sally supervised the two officers that were carting Mr. Henly, the landlord, to the police van before going back into the building and finding Lestrade. She had apparently missed most of the action as Lestrade was sitting across the kitchen table from the Freak with the missing necklace and the safety deposit box key in front of him.
Sally glared at the Freak for stealing evidence and he simply rolled his eyes at her with a small frown. "Henly's off, sir. We found kiddie porn tapes in his flat." Sally paused and swallowed. "Some of them have him in them, sir."
"Christ." Lestrade nodded. "Don't do this again, Sherlock. If you have a concern then just call me and I'll take care of it. You don't have to lift evidence to get me to investigate your landlord."
The Freak snorted. "I didn't 'lift' evidence," he retorted. "And I didn't want you to come here. Now I have to move, again! I hate moving, Lestrade."
The DI only snorted and rolled his eyes. "If you didn't keep all this junk, then you wouldn't have so much to box up. And if this place wasn't such a mess then it'd be a lot easier, wouldn't it?"
The Freak only stared at him for a moment. "Put that down, Anderson!" He suddenly called out without ever removing his eyes from the DI's.
"What's in it?" Anderson moved into the room with a large wooden box in his arms. He was struggling under its weight and only narrowly missed smashing the necklace as he set it on the table. "It's locked. If the psychopath doesn't give us the key I think we should break it open."
"I will not give over the key to that trunk and you will not break the lock," the Freak hissed. "There is nothing in there that would be of interest to you."
Lestrade gazed upon the box for a minute and then turned back to the Freak. "Leave it, Anderson. The box isn't important to us."
"But what if he stashes his drugs in there, sir?" Sally felt compelled to speak up.
Lestrade shook his head but didn't say anything else.
"Put the box back where you found it, Anderson. Besides even an idiot like you can see the dust collected on the top. It's obvious that it hasn't been touched in months," the Freak sneered.
Sally learned that day that there were three things in the Freak's flat that were never to be searched for drugs or even touched at all if the cops knew what was good for them. The skull that always seemed to be close to the Freak. The violin that always shined in the sunlight. And the box with its coating of dust and lock that seemed to have no key. It wasn't until years later that she learned why.
The skull was the Freak's wedding present from Dr. John. The violin was the last present his father had ever given him. The box, the most treasured item in his flat at least until Dr. John returned, was full of Dr. John's favorite things, a stuffed penguin, an ivory dagger, letters, and other detritus that Dr. John had collected over his lifetime and left in his husband's care while he was gone.