The cold enveloped her all at once, but she held off the urge to exhale her precious lungful of oxygen. She let gravity suck her downwards before moving her limbs. Don't look down, Ginny, whatever you do. Don't look down. She tried to think back to the Yard survival trainer's advice. "Kick your legs like a dog would, Lestrade. Upwards and outwards." Well, as long as the dog didn't swim against currents. I'm going to murder you, kid. You won't know what came at you. But for that, I need to get out of here alive. She shook off the mental images of tiny feet perched on the floor of a swimming pool and looked up. That's strange. Shouldn't upwards be brighter? Ginny bit the inside of her mouth and used a mossy slippery rock to realign herself. Aha! She felt her head starting to ache as the icy cold caused the capillaries to contract. Ginny kicked harder and let the current take her upwards. As long as she broke the surface before her brain gave out and her lungs let go of the last cubic centimeter of oxygen, she would be fine.
After what felt like ages, her fingertips broke through the water's surface, she kicked upwards once more and gulped a mouthful of cold morning air. Nothing tastes more wonderful. Ginny wheezed and sucked in another mouthful. She continued treading the water as she turned towards the sound of Sally's screams. Huh. The current had dragged her at least 50 meters away towards the scraggy decrepit alcove. From what she had been able to see underwater, there were thick weeds and pieces of junk strewn across most of the rocky bed. The vegetation and junk was so thick it could damage any boat that dared to venture out here. An ideal hiding place, then. Ginny considered her chances. There was no way she could swim against the current back towards the bridge. The cold was making her limbs hurt already as the blood circulation to her extremities slowed down. She could either keep treading the water till a rescue team arrived (God knows whether they'd called for one by now) or let the current take her to the alcove. Even if she went with the latter option, it would mean risking cutting herself on rocks and undergrowth till she got ashore. And then wait for someone to come get her.
Before she could make that decision, she was distracted by something slimy drag against her foot. In the scramble to swim upwards, she had lost a shoe. It's probably a fish. Or an eel, she thought and kept moving her legs, trying not to retch. But a half-circulation later, there it was again, the slimy surface that was definitely not moss or fish and could only be covered by some bristly layer of.. Hair?! Ginny took a deep scorching breath and ducked under the water towards the obstacle. And nearly screamed. Rosita and Dorothy Winchester were tied to a rock, their faces angelic and their eyes wide open as they stared out, unfocused. She recognized the coppery taste from the water that had snuck into her mouth and thrashed back to the surface. Ripping out her scarf from her neck, she waved towards her team. "They're here!", she cried, her voice hoarse. "They're here, I found them!".
Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she suspected she'd die of a heart attack right here. That'd be a pretty picture. Ginny, Rosita and Dorothy, dead at the bottom of the Thames. She held on to the rock under the surface where it was least slippery. Her vision had begun to blur and she prayed to all the gods she could remember that there was a rescue team on the way. It's not a bad way to die, drowning because you're unconscious, she thought as her legs kicked slower on every rotation. I found two bodies, maybe that'll thwart the killer from his next target. Wait a minute. she thought as a gust of wind made her scrunch her eyes closed. Why would he tie them to a rock at the bed of the river if he'd already knocked them unconscious and threw them in? The growing dread spread through her like hot lava and halted her legs mid-kick. She ducked under the water again and moved aside the thicket of weeds that was right behind Rosita. An angry stream of bubbles erupted from her mouth before her head broke the surface of the water. Staring out at her from five feet away was Anna D'souza. Ginny pulled herself back up and held on to the rock with all the strength she could summon. She tried to clutch harder despite the warm hands of the current that pulled her away. The sea god is trying to kill me! she thought, chuckling to herself. No, that's stupid, she was drowning in a river. Who was the river god? Varuna? Ganga? She certainly looked like a goddess, with green eyes and dark brown hair that flew into a halo around her face as they ascended upwards to the sky. What the actual fuck, was Ginny's last thought before she sank into the cloud of brown hair and her head hung limp on the woman's shoulder. Anthea laughed to herself as she clambered into the chopper, taking care not to hurt Ginny's head.
"Collected, Sir.", she spoke into her phone's receiver. She felt the weak pulse under her fingers on Ginny's neck and nodded to the paramedic. "Alive but unconscious. Hypothermic, needs immediate medical attention", she reported. As the paramedics took off Ginny's coat and strapped an oxygen mask to her face, Anthea gave the garment a quick survey. "Any major injuries?", said the voice on the phone. "Nothing that cannot be put back together.", she replied, smiling to herself.
When Ginny came to, she was greeted by the cheery smell of formaldehyde. And a blurry pale shape that hovered above her face. She tried to lift her limbs and grab it, but her body would not cooperate. "Who belongs to this face?", she muttered, her voice raspy like she'd swallowed gravel. The floating head disappeared from view. "Your mouth smells like my crime scene, Lestrade", the kid exclaimed and flounced over to a corner. Ginny shifted on the bed and confirmed that:
She was dressed in a hospital gown
She was covered in a heap of blankets that was suffocating the shit out of her
Her right arm hurt like hell
She blinked and struggled to sit up on her elbows. She looked around her, trying to find an instrument tray; anything sharp that would help her in her task. A warm hand on her shoulder made her turn to her left. Blue eyes the color of sapphires looked back at her, sending a wave of heat through her stomach. Brownish-red hair. Sharp features. Attractive in a punch in the gut, knock out your breath manner. Beautiful suit. Black umbrella. The eyes catalogued her appearance while his face worked hard on not breaking into a smile. He ripped away three blankets to the floor before turning back to her. "I would not resort to scalping him just yet, Inspector.", the voice said, its depth lulling her eyelids.
"No?", she asked as she fought to keep them open, to drink in more of the incandescent blue, but she was already flat on her left side, her hand tucked under her pillow.
"No. Good night, Genevieve."
The sound of the slamming door woke her up and reminded her that she felt like utter shit. Ginny heard him rifle through the pile of flower bouquets before his head loomed directly above hers. "What diseases do you have?", he asked, smiling. "Oh God.", Ginny groaned. "You're happy. Where is it? How many people died?" She heard a huff of laughter from the corner and hauled herself up on her elbows to look at the source.
A green eyed, brown haired woman dressed in a pantsuit stood in the corner, typing something into her Blackberry at breakneck speed, her gaze flicking towards Jack once or twice before going back to her phone.
Ginny looked at Jack, who had settled on the sofa and was busy rifling through her charts. "Umm.. hello?", she said to the stranger.
The woman looked up at her for a second and smiled before going back to her Blackberry.
Ginny tried again. "Who are you?"
The stranger seemed to think about that for a moment, before gracing her with a quick glance. "You can call me Emily", she said.
Ginny frowned. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"No."
Jack snorted. Ginny turned to him. It hit her all at once, hard enough that she sprang up to her knees and scrambled to look for her phone. "The case, what happened? Did you find the bodies? There were three where I was, but there might be more. How long have I been out for? I need to call the station!", she cried.
"No need, Lestrade, your murderer is behind bars. We caught him two hours after your little swimming trip", said Jack, still examining her charts.
Ginny sat back on her heels, the air knocked out of her. "Wait, what? How? Who was it?", she asked.
Jack sighed. "So typical of the bureaucracy, it's all a means to an end, there's no interest in the mystery of what led to your crime scene. It's just trying to find someone on whom to put the blame", he said, his upper lip curled.
"It's not a game", she hissed with more conviction than she felt.
"It is to me", he said and smiled.
Ginny wished she could punch the glee off from his face. She gritted her teeth and stared at him, her mouth a thin flat line. "Who was it? How did you find him? And come to think of it, what the hell is your real name? It's about time you told me."
"Why?", he asked and folded his limbs together.
"So that I can arrest you for assaulting a police officer", she said as she moved things on the side table. Where the hell is my phone?
He shrugged and continued to ignore her. Emily stepped forward and handed her a folder from her briefcase, along with her phone. "Inspector, I believe this belongs to you", she said. "And this is Sherlock Holmes. He's a consulting detective." she said, her eyes rolling at the last two words.
Sherlock gave her a baleful glare. Ginny frowned. "How do you have my phone?", she asked Emily.
"I believe you dropped it on the bridge before you fell into the water", said Emily and went back to texting at the speed of light.
Ginny gaped at the blatant lie. She unlocked the phone that was identical to hers, minus all the dents and chips on the body. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she swiped through her contact list and documents. It was all there, intact. Who are these people? How did they get access to my data?
As if in answer, the phone buzzed with a text.
Mere mortals, Inspector. Well-wishers, too.
She stared at the text, her stomach roiling in discomfort. Number unknown, it said. She gulped. A glance at Emily's pantsuit revealed exactly how well-armed she was. Ginny made up her mind when she spied the strategic position the younger woman had occupied right in front of the door.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Holmes?", she said as she looked him up and down. His skin was still pale, but not as much as the first time she'd met him. It was possible that he had not shot up since then, but Ginny was wary. He looked comparatively calm, despite the manic glee in his eyes.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I want to be on your other cases. I want to consult", he said.
"Do you now?", Ginny asked, surprised. The phone buzzed again Ginny squinted at it.
Hear him out.
"Of course, why else would I be here, trying to participate in the banality that is this conversation?", Sherlock asked, irritation furrowing his brow. He shot her phone an angry glance.
"I'll show you banal", she muttered under her breath and opened the folder. A flicker of irritation passed through her and she turned to Emily. "Why do you have my reports? My emergency contact is my husband. No-one else should have access to these. Speaking of which, where is my husband?"
Emily looked pointedly at her phone. "When the hospital contacted Andrew Bishop, he was indisposed. You had severe hypothermia and someone had to sign off immediately on the ECMO procedure. So I did. And here you are". It was all said in a nonchalant manner that was chilling at its best.
"Why, thank you!", Ginny said, wishing she sounded as sarcastic as she felt. It's you lot's fault I had hypothermia in the first place, she itched to say. Before she could even see him from the corner of her eye, Sherlock grabbed the folder from her arms and flopped away. He skimmed over the report, his eyes feverish. "Your WBC's are a little elevated, but there's no complications. You have no diseases, Lestrade!", he said and threw the folder on the sofa. "This is useless!" he declared, annoyed. "There are numerous studies linking the Thames to a spate of gastrointestinal diseases in water sports enthusiasts. I was rather hoping I would get some bacterial subcultures for my collection from you".
Ginny gaped at him. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Also, hang on, don't you owe me an apology for throwing me in the goddamn river?", she asked, dissolving into a coughing fit as her voice rose to scream at him.
A glass of water materialized in Emily's hand. Ginny took it and gulped down the liquid in two seconds.
"Hardly", said Sherlock. "I had a reason".
"Oh yeah? What would that be, eh?"
"Data, Lestrade!", he said, throwing his hands in the air.
She stared at him, nonplussed.
"What?"
"Data! How else would I know where the bodies drifted? None of them made it out of the river, they were all tied to the bed like the two girls. We would have never found them if you hadn't volunteered. That part of the river is so polluted that no diver would agree to stay there for more than two minutes. No wonder we never found his stash!". He was talking at the top of his lungs now, pacing around the room.
She took a deep breath and planted her arms on the cold, steady hand rests. "Wait, back up", she said. "Who's all of them? What stash? The Smith girl was found on the bank under a bridge, she had never drowned. Also, I did not fucking volunteer, you pushed me in, you psycho!"
Sherlock sighed. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. It was either you or me and I think we both agree you can withstand the two hundred and forty-three water-borne diseases sixteen times better than I can".
His gaze wavered under the glare she subjected him to. "Besides, I solved your case. We apprehended the killer and put him behind bars".
Ginny gaped at him. "You solved it?", she asked.
"Obviously", he said. "Did you think Donovan did?"
"And why wouldn't she?"
"Because she's an idiot, you're all idiots!", he said.
"Watch it, Sherly, just because you have a brain and ego the size of Mars doesn't mean we have to take your insults lying down. You will refrain from calling my team idiots. You can forget all about consulting on my cases if you want to continue being an arsehole", she said and veered off into another coughing fit. Her throat hurt like it was being clawed from the inside. She accepted another glass of water from Emily and gulped it slowly.
Sherlock frowned and looked at his feet. It reminded her of her four year old nephew when he didn't want to apologize for spilling orange juice all over her coat just as she was about to leave.
"Fine", she said after a minute had passed. "Tell me how you did it".
Sherlock's limbs sprung to attention. He walked to her side and clasped the arm rest so tight his knuckles shone white. "Aurelia Smith's body showed definite signs of prior cocaine use but she didn't die of an overdose; she had a cardiac arrest. What normal eighteen year old dies of a heart attack without taking drugs? No alcohol or opiates in her blood and your forensics ruled out any injected poisons because they couldn't locate a puncture mark on the body".
"That's correct", said Ginny. "There were no marks on the body anywhere, apart from the strangling marks that were imprinted on her skin.. Oh!"
"Exactly. He gave her cocaine, then injected her with a poison or drug that did not leave a trace and then he strangled her with such force that the bruises from choking covered the puncture mark. Untraceable for your forensics idiots, but not for me", he said.
Ginny ignored the jibe. "But there were no signs of struggle on the body. She must have taken the poison by her own will. Why would she do that?", she asked aloud.
Sherlock tilted his head and looked at her, his gaze intent.
"Fine, what would I do if I'm dying of an overdose? Well, I'd try anything to stop dying. A reversing drug?", she said and looked up at him. "Did he somehow confuse her into thinking it might be able to reverse the overdose?", she asked.
Sherlock stared at her in surprise. "You got there quicker than I thought you would. Yes, I thought so too. That is how he convinced his victims to go on a cocaine binge with him at the outset. A miraculous antidote that leaves no traces of the drug you took or the antidote itself. The promise of no consequences after bingeing on the drug of your choice. Isn't that enticing?", he said, eyes glittering. "However, the overdose drug that he gave them ended up paralyzing them, enabling him to strangle them or knock them unconscious. When I followed the Winchester girls, they accepted free cocaine from a stranger at the party they attended at the riverside pub. I couldn't identify the man but I know they followed him to the parking lot. From there, I lost their trail. He likely took them to the bridge where they shot up with him. He gave them the antidote disguised as a precaution. They took it, naive and clueless that they were. Then when they were paralyzed, he bashed their heads on the outside of the bridge's railing and threw them in the water. Rosita was thrown first while Dorothy lay on the ground, unable to move. She followed soon after and then he jumped in".
Ginny stared at him. He'd had the same to go on as her team, but all she'd deduced was that Aurelia was a cocaine addict who had died of a cardiac arrest and that the Winchester girls were somehow related because they'd been the same age and had been seen near a pub infamous for hosting three drug busts a month. But something didn't fit. She held up a hand. "Wait a second, why did he strangle Aurelia and leave her to die on the river bank and throw the Winchester and D'souza girls into the water? That seems inconsistent", she said.
"Now you're asking the right questions, Lestrade", said Sherlock and continued pacing back and forth as he explained. "I think Aurelia was left on the bank because he made two mistakes. One, he messed up the cocaine dosage. She started screaming for the antidote, so he quickly injected her. He panicked and strangled her on the spot before she could scream again and attract attention. He could have just let her die of an overdose, but instead he finished what he had set out to do. Two, he did not drag her into the river because he thought people might have heard her screams. So instead, he fled the scene. With all the other girls, he went through with his ritual until the end. This brings us to motive. Why would a man deliberately seek out drug addicts and give them a mystery antidote drug, only to then strangle them and throw them in the river?", he asked and looked at her.
Ginny shrugged. "Seems a convoluted way to kill someone. If he really only hated junkies he could have just lured them into a corner and shot them", she said.
Sherlock nodded. "Precisely. Instead, he's enacting out a specific scenario each time and the link is the untraceable antidote. Before you arrived on the crime scene, I took samples of Aurelia's saliva and blood and tested them out. I found the products of reaction of an overdose-reversing drug that was banned only six months ago. The pharmaceutical company that invented it was forced to close the project because they mislabeled the dosage of the antidote, making it even more addictive than cocaine. A couple of poor addicts died of an overdose but the CEO, Bertram Kent, refuted the claims, saying instead that the antidote dosage was a matter of choice and adhering to a specific dosage was akin to infringing on basic freedoms. He even tried to make the case through some newspapers about the importance of choice when it came to dosages instead of adhering to specific recommendations. When the court ruled to shut down the project, he got out thanks to a hung jury but underwent considerable financial ruin and public shaming. He struck some kind of deal with newspapers not to publish details about the traceability of the antidote drug or the two addicts who died, which is why no-one on your team knew what they were looking at. If they were looking for it in the first place", he said.
"I remember hearing about this antidote. What was it called? Entel? Ettol?", she asked.
"Ekthel", said Sherlock. "Expensive, effective and addictive. All in the extreme". He looked out the window for a few seconds, his jaw clenched. Emily's unflinching eyes were on him, her fingers paused in the middle of a lengthy report to her handler. "Stand down", Sherlock muttered to her and turned back to Ginny.
"Kent was now penniless and alone. Even his family deserted him. No-one knew that he had made off with vials of the antidote before the factory was seized. He festered with rage for months until one day, he knew what he had to do to avenge himself. He began seeking out cocaine addicts and offering them the antidote for free, even 'demonstrating' it himself once with controlled dosage. Of course, they fell for it. Hook, line and sinker. The police found the first two he killed and dismissed them as junkies who had died of a cardiac arrest. It would have continued this way, but a man who had lost so much wanted a shrine to himself, a constant reminder of his handiwork. So now, once the addicts were paralyzed from having taken the antidote, he began throwing them into the river and then tying them to rocks at the bed. He even tied them to the rocks in a pattern that loosely resembled the logo of his former company. I only had to wait for your blood reports to show the same signs of Ekthel contamination as Aurelia's to confirm that it was indeed the disgruntled former owner of the company who also happened to be an expert swimmer capable of underwater diving for long records of time. We found him living in a shack about 500 meters from that alcove. A quick examination of his car revealed a set of thermal scuba diving gear that was still wet. He confessed on the ride back to the Yard", he said and sat down next to her. He picked up an apple from her bedside table and took a bite, his expression thoughtful.
Ginny stared at him for thirty seconds before he looked at her face and spoke again. "Six bodies, including the Winchester girls. The two people he murdered before can likely be found in your missing persons list. Look for cocaine addicts who died of a mysterious massive cardiac arrest", he said.
He spoke as fast as Emily typed. Ginny considered the information for a moment before she addressed him. "Well, thank you for your assistance with this, Sherlock. Of course, I need to verify the evidence and coroner's reports for the bodies, not to mention the alleged conviction, but that was brilliant work. I wish my people were half as good as you".
He shrugged. "We all wish for impossible things", he said, taking a large bite.
She regarded him carefully. He was dressed better this time; he was even wearing shoes. The garbage scent had disappeared and there was a nick behind his right ear from a recent shave. Expensive, effective and addictive, he'd said. Ginny gulped. "You've taken it", she whispered. Her peripheral vision registered Emily giving her and Sherlock a long, careful look. Sherlock's face remained impassive but he went very still.
"That's how you knew for sure", she croaked. "How many times?"
"Once because I had to. Twice to study its effects and time its traceability", he said as he checked his fingernails.
Her eyebrows shot up. "Right", she said and nodded. "Thank you for all you've done, but I'm sorry, I can't have you on any crime scene ever again", she said.
Sherlock's face fell and her stomach lurched as he fixed sad grey eyes on her. "Lestrade", he said, but Ginny held up a hand.
"Sherlock, you're good at this. I know that's an understatement, but now that I know you take serious drugs for recreational purposes, I can't have you on, I'm sorry", she said.
"But.. but", he spluttered and twisted the sheets in his hands. No-one has to know, was his unspoken plea.
"I can't do that, Sherlock. I won't lose my job over this. I could make a recommendation if you promise to stay clean and share regular test results with me", she said.
He clenched his eyes shut and his body trembled. "I can't, I need them to think", he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"No you don't", said Ginny. She put a bruised hand on his shoulder. "You haven't taken drugs the entire time you were working on this case, have you? You just have to stay clean from now on. Think about the murders you can stop!", she said.
But Sherlock frowned, stood up and whirled around, coat billowing around him. "Fine!", he said, his back to her as he put his gloves on. "I wish you luck as you blunder around London with your bunch of half-wits trying to catch murderers who are always ten steps ahead of you", he spat.
"Hey, watch it!", said Ginny.
"You know I'm right!", he said and turned around to her.
"Mr. Holmes", said Emily in a warning tone, but Sherlock ignored her. "I wouldn't expect better from a woman who ignores her husband's transgressions merely because the thought of being alone scares her. Tell me, Lestrade, is the police force made up of invertebrates or is it just you?"
Ginny gaped at him.
"You know why your husband isn't here, Lestrade? It's because he's off in Leeds with the gym teacher, knocking her up! Oh, but you already suspected that, didn't you?"
"How?", Ginny stammered, her right eye twitching rapidly.
"How?", he howled, incredulous. "The state of that coat reveals exactly what you want to do to your husband when you see him. It is the same brand as the one you wear but too long and too broad for you. Before it made contact with the Thames, it smelled like that sickly generic women's perfume unlike you who smells either like a giant coffee bean or cigarette stub depending on the time of the day. Conclusion, it's your husband's coat, the thought of him makes you want to strangle someone and instead of confronting him you take out your fury on his cashmere coat", he said and clapped his hands together, mocking her.
All thoughts of strangling him went out the window when Emily's hands on her shoulders held her down. "You'll rip out the IV from your arm, Inspector", she said, calm as a cucumber. Ginny swayed as her ears pounded, the blood rushing to her face. Emily turned to Sherlock. "Get out", she barked. They stared each other down before he turned around and left the room, the door slamming in his wake.
Emily turned back to her. "I would pay to watch you wrestle him to the ground, but you're not at your strongest right now", she said and laid Ginny back onto the mattress, covering her with the soft down blanket. She opened her mouth but Ginny interrupted her. "Yes he did, he meant every word", she said, trying not to notice how fast the ceiling spun above her. Her whole body ached with the shame of having it laid out in the open. She'd had her suspicions, even told Andrew once that she knew, but he had always dismissed it. Before the screams from their argument had stopped echoing off their apartment walls, she had usually left to chase another murderer.
"Here, this will help", said Emily as she pressed something into her hand and continued typing. Ginny looked down and was surprised to find a roasted almond chocolate bar. It was her favorite brand. It was opened (she noted gratefully), so she broke off a piece and stuffed it in her mouth, grunting in satisfaction at the sugary chocolatey goodness.
Her phone buzzed.
I apologize for his outburst. It shall not happen again.
She banged the phone face down on the metal side table with whatever force she could gather. "This employer of yours, Emily", she said. "Who would that be?"
Emily ignored her and continued typing.
Alright then. Ginny squinted at her formal attire. She was carrying a Browning L9A1 on her hip and a second on her ankle, plus a taser. And was that the outline of a pepper spray canister? Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "Putin? CIA? Colonel Excelsior Black?", she said and chuckled.
A corner of the younger woman's mouth twitched up at that. "Something like that", she said, texting away.
Emily's phone beeped twice in quick succession. Ginny thought she looked chastised for a second, but the look disappeared quickly. "Inspector, I should warn you that my employer has taken the liberty of reinstating your mother as your emergency contact", said Emily.
Ginny stopped chewing. "Wait, what..", she mumbled. Emily pushed her down again with one hand when she tried to sit up. "You'll find that staying flat helps with the blood circulation, Inspector".
Ginny hissed through a mouth full of chocolate. "Who gave you the authority to do that? My mother has no idea of.."
"She has been informed of your accident and she will be here in.. Oh, here she is now", Emily said, still looking into her phone and walking to the door that led to the nurses lounge instead of the lobby. "Good-bye, Inspector", she said before turning away and out of sight.
Ginny stared after her and lay very still as she heard a booming voice approach. She cringed as she heard a receptionist argue with someone who seemed determined to wake up every patient in the vicinity with their shouting. "Why wasn't I informed yesterday? Do you know how long it takes to get here from Aylesford? I want to see her now!", she screamed.
Ginny gulped. I wasn't this scared when I was surrounded by dead bodies underwater. She sighed. There was only one option. As she grabbed the blanket above her head, her phone buzzed and she glanced at it, frantic.
Well chosen, Inspector. I would do the same.
Ginny cursed and put her phone down. She hid her half-eaten chocolate bar under her pillow, turned her head away from the door and closed her eyes.