Sherlock and John grabbed their coats and dashed out into the afternoon buzz of Baker Street. Sherlock was mid-step into the cab when his phone received a text. Lestrade had someone in for questioning.
Busy. Donovan should be able to take care of it. –SH
Mycroft sent this one. Said it was your case? –GL
On our way. –SH
"Driver, we need to stop over at Scotland Yard," Sherlock ordered, replying to Lestrade's texts.
"We're not going for tea then," John asked, relieved. He wasn't too keen on actually meeting the psychopath behind this case. She seemed to have an advantage in both physical strength and evasiveness, unseen since Moriarty.
"We'll get there a bit late. If Lestrade has actually found something, it could be useful." Sherlock stepped out and entered the newly refurbished Scotland Yard and John trailed behind, leaving John to pay the cabbie. They got through the security bar with Sherlock's new badge.
"It's nice get into this place legally for once," John mused as they passed Donovan's office. Sherlock shrugged; he didn't need his own badge to get in, he could have used one of the many he had pickpocketed from the Lestrade. It was a bit more convenient having his own though. They went straight to the interrogation rooms in the hindmost part of the building. Lestrade was waiting for them at the door, unfortunately with Sgt. Donovan at his side. He straightened up and rested his hands on his hips as they approached.
"We've got a late-30's male employed by a Matthew Mortell? Some big shot CEO in America. This seems to be head of his personal security team." He shifted his weight unevenly and looked behind Sherlock before speaking in a hushed tone. "You haven't got much time in here. I know your brother's trying to pull some strings but this has gone international. The bloody Americans should be here any minute." Donovan was unusually silent, not even bothering to take a stab at Sherlock. John glanced between them and even he could detect the scale of the investigation from the unfamiliar tension within Scotland Yard.
"I'll wait out here then and help stall for as long as I ca-"
Sherlock immediately refused. "No, I need you inside, he's got a military background, correct?" Lestrade nodded. "Besides, I should only need a few minutes. I'm sure you lot can handle at least that much."
The possibility of starting an international war was high but Lestrade let him through with a sigh, unlocking the door to the control room. Several analysts were already inside and they turned when Sherlock entered the room, some grimacing more than others. Beyond the two-way mirror was a rugged military man, but polar opposite to John. He was a towering Hulk, even sitting in cuffs. He cracked a smug smile when they entered the safe room, irking Sherlock. He sat across from the prisoner and John opted to standing with his best possible military stance, hands resting comfortably behind his back.
"Look here folks, I've already talked to the cops here so I've got no beef with you."
"We're not actually from the police and we have no direct interest in your employer," Sherlock added curtly. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his lap.
"Two nights ago your unit invaded a warehouse in a nearby quarrying district, but someone stopped you." Sherlock unfolded a print-out from his coat pocket and slid it across the table. "We need to know who this is."
"Do you now? I believe since you're not cops, I have no reason to even talk to you. And she didn't stop us, we retreated on our orders." The man in cuffs turned his chin up in pride.
"Damn right, you did, we saw the video mate. As soon as you busted in that door you were done," John chided. "I'd say...Second Lieutenant by the looks of it. Couldn't have gone very far wth that mindset." The man began to ball his fists and set his jaw, ready to take a cuffed-swing at John.
"First Lieutenant to you, boy," he seethed at his interrogators.
Obvious anger management issues, Sherlock sighed at his dullness. "Must I explain? You have a military background, yes, but the fact that you were the one that broke in first suggests a minor rank, yet you are the head of your little army. Therefore, your military position in the past was not an extraordinary one, simply a pawn soldier using the same tactics as a new leader. Almost, First Lieutenant." Leaning forward, Sherlock came within inches of the prisoner. "The slight swelling in the veins in your left arm and the purplish tinge suggest drug abuse of some kind. Possibly steroids but I know cocaine when i see it. We could do one blood test hand have enough to keep you in here for a very. Long. Time."
The man seemed to be seething with frustration for a moment, face paling. He finally unwound his fists and broke eye contact with the detective.
"Ok I don't know much, the boss was rattling on about funds on the way there and from what i could understand, some bastard was taking funds out from our bank and investing against us. At first it was all cyber stuff but then some of the real cash started going. Then some of our dealers started getting messages from our network that we never sent, leading the police right to them. This bastard sets up
traps off our company and we get the shit for it."
"Does this bastard have a name, Lieutenant?" John was becoming annoyed. He never liked the military twats that were excommunicated. There was always some unsavoury reason behind it. The man only looked at John with steeled eyes, apparently refusing to give any more. John sighed.
"Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. I am ordering you to reveal any and all intel regarding this case. Understood?" The lieutenant's jaw flexed with uncertainty and Sherlock was growing impatient.
"Refusing to do so will result in your immediate detainment in this country and we will do everything in our power to keep you from your own government," Sherlock sneered, leaning forward with a menacing glare. "I hope it is not beyond you to deduce that by the fact that i simply walked into an international investigation, this power is not terribly hard to come by." Their prisoner swallowed audibly, shifting his glance between his two interrogators.
He finally leaned in towards Sherlock with a solemn frown, uselessly trying to face away from the mirrored glass beside him. "Fine but we've got a deal alright? No blood work is going anywhere near my feds." Sherlock gave a quick glance to John, who nodded in agreement.
"Find, do go on."
"We never got a name but whoever these guys were, they had the nerve to start bidding against us. After a few months, our client list started dropping like flies. We got our techs to look into the company and apparently it was a corporation called Cell Hero-Kohls." The lieutenant shifted further away from the mirrored glass. His fists balled with frustration as he continued. "But get this, a buddy of mine was doing the search and after a bit more digging, he came up with dead ends. No paper trail, no official business listings, nothing. Hell even our company has some sort of trail if you know where to look. These bids were coming from a freaking dummy shell corporation. Some punk with a laptop managed to take away over half of our client interest. Now that didn't really sit well with Mr. Mortell you see. Even he has a boss that's got all his profit in this. He got the order from the higher ups to find the little shit and take them out. We never expected them to have hired a hitman...woman though."
Sherlock finally leaned back in his chair, seemingly solving the mystery already. John pulled up a chair and sat beside him, confused. "What is is Sherlock?" Sherlock kept his eyes on the lieutenant.
"Let me see, you recieved a random signal from the shell company's servers and were able to trace it to the warehouse by the Thames," Sherlock questioned.
"Yeah how-"
"Come John, we're finished here," Sherlock rose with a flourish of his coat and walked out of the interrogation room only moments before a group of what he assumed to be American federal officers burst through the doors. Sherlock and John casually slipped out of the room and met Lestrade outside. After a quick look around, Sherlock discreetly whispered, "You might want to do a blood test if you plan on detaining him."
"What, you're not staying?" Lestrade was evidently exhausted from the shitstorm of legal work this case had brought about and was desperate for even a little relief.
"We're late for tea," and with that, Sherlock rushed out to hail a cab, a confused John trailing bewildered behind him. Once they were safe inside the cab John began to reprimand Sherlock for leaving Lestrade in such a compromising situation.
"Oh relax, he'll be fine. Besides, we have far more important business to attend."
John sighed and leaned his head back, "How could 'tea' be possibly more important than this." Sherlock whipped out his pocket book and scrawled "cell hero-kohls" large enough for John to read. "Um, ok Sherlock these are one of those times where you have to do a bit of explaining."
This time Sherlock was the one sighing. He rearranged the letters on the adjoining page and John let out a small gasp. The company name was an anagram that formed HELLO-SHERLOCK. The cab stopped at the edge of a collection of warehouses by the Thames and as John paid the cabbie, Sherlock dashed towards the one in the video. It was grey and plain, just like every other one in the area. When John caught up to him, the detective was already examining the grass around the entrance.
"Sherlock," John whispered cautiously, "what if she's still here?"
"Don't be daft John, she left ages ago. Now be useful and look up the weather for yesterday night at 7:30." He continued to scamper around the entrance with his magnifier, occasionally stopping to mutter to himself. John complied and searched up the weather on his phone.
"Um, it was around 17 degrees and dry around the Thames area. It's been the same for the past few days, what exactly are you looking for?"
"Hm," Sherlock stood abruptly and walked slowly up and down the pathway. "The weather's been too neutral for fog then," he turned to John with hands gesturing at the trodden grass at the ground, "How come there was fog in the video?" John examined the unusually big patch of bent grass beside him.
"Too big for a footprint? Wait, are you suggesting something like the Baskerville case? An aerosol of some sort?" John had taken out one of his own pocket books and flipped to his notes about the Baskerville case. Hallucinogenic drugs.
"Precisely, it explains why she was able to overcome twelve grown men. This one seems to be more potent, they were only exposed for a moment, so it should be able to show up in a blood test." Sherlock had made his way to the door and found it unlocked. He carefully opened it, only to find the entire warehouse was empty. John instinctively stepped in front of him, gun drawn and ready.
"Oh please, you can put that away Doctor Watson. Unless of course you want to use my speaker for target practice." The undoubtedly female voice came from a small black ball beside the door frame. Sherlock picked up the wireless speaker, no larger that the palm of his hand, and examined it thoroughly. The voice continued, "You don't know how difficult it is to contact your brother when he's angry at an entire country. You on the other hand, little Holmes, are much more reasonable." John put his gun away and couldn't help a quiet chuckle at the 'little Holmes' comment, earning him a disapproving glare from said party.
Sherlock finally spoke directly to the black ball in his hand, "What would a hired gun possibly want with the British government?" The speaker let out a surprised laugh and sighed.
"Is that what your brother told you I was? A hitman of some sort? Looks like he's using you again, little Holmes." Sherlock creased his brow at the comment but stayed silent. "Your brother doesn't realize that we're both looking for the same thing."
"Oh? And what would that be? Mycroft knows I can't theorize without all of the facts."
"Haven't you noticed there are a whole lot of facts missing? He gave you an impossibly thin case file for this issue, little Holmes. About 7,000 tonnes of high grade uranium was supposed to be exported last month to several nuclear plants around the world."
"And?"
"It's missing."