I don't own Sherlock!
The room fell to silence as everyone stared at the army doctor. Lestrade and Sherlock had a hard time picturing anyone hating the doctor, but hating the doctor enough to kill someone was even harder.
"So do you have a name?" Lestrade asked awkwardly pulling out his notebook.
"Captain Connor Westly, retired American Army." John replied. "Last I heard he was still living in Afghanistan."
"Alright, I'll see if we can find him." Lestrade commented pulling out his phone.
"I doubt it," John replied. "He is very good at staying under the radar."
"Well, he's staying near 40th street or frequents it often," Sherlock replied moving out of the bathroom.
"I suppose you can tell from the way the furniture is moved," Anderson snorted.
"No, the tobacco ash," Sherlock replied pointing to a small pile of ash. "That is from a special brand you can only by from Jim's Smoke Shop on 40th Street."
"Of course," Anderson snorted.
"It's the color," Sherlock snapped back. "That brown is only produced by 2 brands, on that is only used by Natives of the Amazon forest and a brand from the Middle East. Seeing how he used to live there I figured it's the 2nd." He explained to Anderson. "Now if you'll excuse us we have a man to find." He added with a nod as he stalked out of the room.
John followed him with a sigh. "So what is our first move?" John asked.
"Simple we get lunch," Sherlock replied.
"Pardon?" John asked.
"Lunch," Sherlock replied.
"That's what I thought you said." John replied cringing. He nodded to Sally who was laughing over what she had just heard.
"I need to know everything you know about Captain Connor Westly." Sherlock replied. "Then I can narrow down where to find him."
"Everything?" John protested.
"Everything," Sherlock replied. "I was told that people find it comforting to eat while talking about tense topics, or is that not true?"
"No it's true," John replied shocked. "There's a fairly good restaurant about a block away,' He added pointing.
"Good," Sherlock replied with a nod as they took off. Neither one spoke until they ordered food.
"So where should we start?" John asked once they had sat down.
"The beginning," Sherlock replied. His eyes narrowing, picking up the John didn't look too thrilled about sharing. "Where did you meet? You said he was a retired American."
"Yha, he had fallen in love with a woman in Afghanistan. So when he retired he settled over there with her and found work as a translator." John told. "He actually taught me enough Farsi to get by." He added.
"You were friends," Sherlock commented as the food arrived.
"We were," John replied his gaze falling to the plate in front of him. There was a silence as he took a few bites.
"So, what does he look like?" Sherlock asked noting John's 'I'm not comfortable' stance.
"He's 6'2 but he always is stooped over. Brown hair, scar on his left arm," John replied.
"Habits?"
"As you guessed he's a smoker," John commented.
"I never guess," Sherlock protested.
"Deduced," John corrected himself. "He smoked the rankest cigarettes; we all tried to get him to quite. We joked that the enemy would smell us coming because of him." He added with a laugh.
Sherlock listened to John tell him stories from Afghanistan involving Captain Connor Westly. Shockingly he didn't find himself bored at all. He watched as John's food slowly disappeared.
"So how did he," Sherlock paused not sure how to go continue his sentence.
"Turn into a murder?" John finished for him. Sherlock nodded. He watched John sigh, leaning back into his chair. Sherlock slowly pushed his untouched plate towards John.
"There were a lot of people over there who didn't like Connor and his wife being together." John stated. "In turn, their son was hated as well. Connor had sent his son to the market to pick up a few things. While he was there a bomb went off, there were some un-friendlys there and they took most of the hurt civilians off for medical attention. They didn't take Connor's son, instead they shot him twice to make sure he was dead."
"That sounds awful," Sherlock commented slowly. He studied John's grief ridden face, it always astounded him that the doctor had been through so much, but still remained open, happy and friendly.
"The kid didn't die there," John replied looking up for the first time. "He was found and brought to me, but by then there was nothing I could do." He continued. "The kid had lost a leg; shrapnel had torn apart his right arm making it almost unusable. He had severe internal bleeding, and burns everywhere. The bullets went into his left shoulder and tore it apart. Even if we replaced it he would only have a small window of movement. I still wanted to try, but I was ordered not to."
"So he blames you for not trying to save his son." Sherlock breathed. John nodded. "But the letter said them," He added as an afterthought.
"His wife died a few weeks later," John replied. "She died on my table," He stated simply. A silence settled over their table until Sherlock's phone rang.
"Sherlock," He answered. "Right, we'll be there." He continued. "They found another body." He replied shrugging on is jacket.
"Right, were is it?" John replied snapping out of his thoughts shrugging on his jacket.
"We are headed to Scotland Yard," Sherlock replied paying for the meal.
"Something must be wrong if you're paying," John replied eyeing the money.
"Come on," Sherlock replied heading for the exit. He hailed a cab and slipped in.
John followed watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. He could tell Sherlock was thinking, but every now and then his eyes would flicker over to study him. It was because of that John knew something horrible was waiting for him at Scotland Yard.
"Freak," Sally greeted Sherlock. "John," She added regarding him with a sorrowful look.
"What happened?" John finally asked annoyed with the delicate silence.
"I'll let Lestrade tell you," Sally replied softly avoiding John's gaze. John only sighed as they stepped into the elevator, wishing it could go faster.
"Sherlock, John," Lestrade greeted as they came out of the elevator. "Have you told him?" He asked Sherlock.
"No one has told me anything," John snapped annoyed.
"Let's do this in my office," Lestrade commented softly. John only growled in anger as he followed the Detective Inspector. "Sit," He motioned. John only replied with a hard stare.
"We found another body," Lestrade commented awkwardly.
"I got that part," John replied rolling his eyes.
"It's one Lisa Hale," Lestrade replied. John froze feeling for the chair as he sunk into it. "You know her?"
"She's a girl I was dating while in Afghanistan." John replied with a sigh rubbing his eyes. "It didn't really work out." He continued his heart sinking. He barely remembered the girl, but now he might have had a part in her death. "Was there another note?" He asked.
"No," Lestrade replied shaking his head. "We did find out who the first victim was," He continued handing him a file. "A Joseph Addams," He added handing another one to Sherlock.
"Damn it," John swore looking down at the smiling picture.
"You know him?" Lestrade asked. John nodded.
"I needed some extra case during med school, so I got a job as Joseph's tutor." John replied. "He was still in middle school, so he kind of looked up to me. We became friends."
"Have you had recent contact with him?" Lestrade questioned.
"No, I wrote to him for a while." John shook his head. "But we started having less and less to tell each other until the letters just stopped."
"Connor Weslty did he know about the correspondence?" Sherlock asked curiously. John shook his head. "And the one with Lisa?"
"Everyone talked about their letters over there," John replied. "What do you think he is doing? Going after my old friends?"
"You told me that he lost his son and his wife," Sherlock said slowly. "It could be possible that he was trying to take similar people from you. In this instance a young boy you mentored and a woman you had romantic ties to." He explained.
"But those were ages ago," John replied.
"He probably just remembered the names," Sherlock replied. Their conversation was cut off as Lestrade's phone rang.
"Detective Inspector Lestrade," Lestrade answered. John watched as the man froze before reaching out to put the phone on speaker.
"Who is it?" John questioned staring at the phone.
"It is me, my dear doctor."
First contact! What does the Captain have to say? Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next one might take longer to put up because of the on coming school week.
Anyway! Hoped you enjoyed and I always welcome reviews!
