Gregory arrived at the Vauxhall Arches a bit later, not in a particular rush. Although, he was looking forward to seeing who this mystery man who had been helping them out for the past year was. His team walked in, consisting of himself, Sally Donovan, Michael Dimmock, and a few other officers. They shined lights on a few of the homeless people as they were wrapped up in blankets and laying on the dirty floor.
"Excuse me?" Lestrade called out. "I'm looking for... Who was the one that called us here?" He said, looking around at all the people staring back at them.
"It was me." A deep voice said, coughing slightly. Sherlock stood up with Raz next to him, graffiting something on his wall with his stolen spray paint. He took a long drag of his cigarette he had in hand and walked to where the officers were.
Gregory looked the man up and down. He had dark, blood coated, knotty, curly hair. He was quite tall, but very lanky. Greg wasn't sure there was any sort of body underneath what was hanging off of him. "And you are...?"
"Sherlock Holmes." He nodded, looking around at the officers. "I've been the one helping you all out for the past..." He stopped and took another drag, thinking. "Ten months, Two weeks, and five days." He said quickly, letting his arm dangle from his side, twisting the cigarette back and forth through his fingers.
Sally raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. "Sherlock Holmes." She repeated, nodding. She tried not to look too judging.
Sherlock looked her up and down as well. "So you're new in Scotland Yard. Four months it would seem. Oh, and you've already got yourself a little crush." He nodded simply, looking back to Greg. "And you've been there... What? 26 and a half years? Slowly climbing the totem pole. Very slow." He added.
"27, actually. How did you-"
Sherlock groaned slightly, rolling his eyes. "I didn't know. I saw. Simple observation." He said, looking around at all the people staring at them. "Would you rather we move this to a more... Private location?" He asked with a slight cough, already walking away.
Lestrade looked around to his team, baffled. He had no idea how he just did that. Dimmock shrugged, taking another look around. He saw Raz spray painting the already paint covered section of wall, narrowing his eyes and trying to figure out if that was the same pattern he saw on the Scotland Yard building-
"Let's go." Greg said, cutting off the officer's train of thought as he followed the tall figure into the darkness.
{=-=}
Sherlock leaned against another cold, concrete wall, the sound of car engines faint above him. He took another long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the air above him as he watched the police officers trying to find their way to him in the dark with their torches.
"Practically got night vision." He called out to them, their heads turning his way slightly. "When you live down here, you learn to see in the dark." He coughed slightly before lifting his cigarette to his lips once again.
Greg let his team follow him to this 'Sherlock' as they found their way, following the small flame of the cigarette using their torches. "If I may ask, why have you been helping us with our murders?" He asked, his hand on his gun. Always be prepared.
"No need for the gun, Detective Inspector." Sherlock shrugged, turning towards the people. "Mostly because I am bored. And also because I know things that you don't. You see, down here in the homeless network, we see everything. We are the eyes and ears of the city. Things get seen, things get talked about. I am just the one to put everything together. Mostly second hand. But undoubtably, you've seen me at a few crime scenes, trying to get a look." He trailed off, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to hold back a loud cough. "This will be my seventeenth time helping you. I thought it was time for you all to know who your mystery source is." He shrugged, looking Dimmock up and down.
Dimmock furrowed his brow, watching the tall man. He didn't seem very trustworthy, nor very friendly. He wondered if it was a good idea to come down here in the first place.
"Officer Dimmock." Sherlock said frankly, reading the sewn on patch on his jacket. "Please tell me what you already know about the murders that occured here last night."
Lestrade nodded at Michael, telling him to explain what he knew.
"Well... We know that four people were shot-"
"Five." Sherlock said briefly, looking at Dimmock like he said nothing.
Sally furrowed her brow, glancing at Greg who was bewildered by his small statement. "How do you know that?" Lestrade asked quickly, staring at Sherlock.
Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Officer Dimmock, please continue." He nodded slightly, letting his ciggie fall to the ground and he stamped it out. He lit a match from his pocket on the wall behind him, pulling another cigarette from one of his coat's pockets. It took it a bit to strike, then an equal amount of time to light.
"Um- Welll- Er... The murderer cleared off quickly, running by the spance of the footprints. His destination and identity, we don't know-"
"We don't know?" Sherlock laughed, huffing out a puff of smoke. "From the footprints left in the dirt and grime of down here, he was running north. We only know... You know... His height, his approximate weight, the size of his shoes." He started with a shrug. "Oh, and you have me. So, you know that he is about 6'2, sandy blonde hair, was carrying Derringer, shooting five people, clearing off, carrying a man over his shoulder." He said quickly. "Obviously some sort of bounty hunter. I would have done something... But... Well, you don't need to worry about what I was doing." He said, taking a deep breath and sighing slightly. That share of Raz's score was not enough. He craved, wanted, needed more.
Greg watching Sherlock, his jaw slack, shaking his head slighlty. He ran a hand over his gaping mouth, thinking. "Um... Excuse my asking, but why are you down here when you could be... Working for the force? You could be very useful."
Dimmock's head sharply turned to Lestrade. He didn't like this guy, and now, he was practically giving him a job. He walked over to Greg and pulled him away, out of earshot.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He whispered harshly.
Greg shrugged, looking at Sherlock who was staring at them. "What? I was wondering if he'd join Scotland Yard." He said calmly with a shrug, looking back to Michael.
"Are you insane?! We don't know this guy. We don't know what or who he is working for. How do you know that he's not one of our killers? What if he knows all of this because he's part of it?!" He asked, the obvious panic in his hushed voice.
Sherlock still had an eyebrow raised at them before looking back at Sally. "You have questions." He said, taking a long drag.
Sally crossed her arms, looking at him with a confused expression. "How do you know this? If you hear things second hand, how do you put them together? What if they're not correct?"
Sherlock sighed, looking away from her. "So you're dressing up nicely for not just your job, but your secret liking as well. You may want to impress your head DI, but you want to impress him more." He said calmly, huffing out a puff of smoke.
"Excuse me, w-"
"Alright, alright. Settle down, everyone." Gregory said as he walked back over, standing in front of Sherlock.
Dimmock had an annoyed look on his face with his arms crossed, looking at Sherlock with a glare.
"Sherlock." Greg said with a nod. "How would you feel about working for the force?" He said hopefully. They needed this guy. He was better than all their officers in one. Multiplied by two.
The tall, lanky man thought for a moment. "Hm. No."
