CHAPTER 3

HIIII! I know it's been a while, but I had a lot to study for school (ugh). But here is chapter three! Hope you enjoy it. xo

"Two days after Amanda Goode's murder, the autopsy is finally released: the young woman died of mutilation. As always, the Chesapeake Ripper took an organ of the victim while he or she was still alive. However, the FBI still hasn't found any clue that could lead to the criminal. Be really careful when you are out of your home at night, especially if you live in the state of Virginia. Now, the weather…"

Sherlock Holmes was listening to the radio and felt a little bit annoyed to hear that the autopsy was released on the radio. He wasn't over his false theory yet and could not believe he'd made such a huge mistake. "Welcome to America", thought the English detective to himself. Though he smiled when he remembered Will's little satisfied half-smile when it was announced he was right. Holmes felt as if there was some kind of sick competition between the two of them like "who would solve the crime first and better". But he didn't care, solving crime was an alternative for him of getting high. He knew that as long as there would be murderers and crimes, he would be whole, he would have a reason to be. Sherlock felt really bored, so he decided to read the rapport on the Chesapeake Ripper again to make sure the next time, and there surely would be one, he wouldn't make such a foolish error. A few minutes later, his phone was ringing.

"Hello, whoever you are, I hope you have a good reason to call me because I was in the middle of an important reflection." He said as he picked up without looking at the number.

"Good morning to you too, Sherlock." It was a rather serious Will Graham speaking. "I hope that this important reflection can be done later. A murder was committed and we need your awesome brain so bring it here. I'll text you the address. Bye." Will ended the call without waiting on Sherlock's reply. He knew that Sherlock couldn't refuse such thing, even if the last time he came, he was humiliated.


A half an hour later, Sherlock Holmes arrived on the scene of the crime. It was a white little house in the middle of a huge forest. Although it was 10 am, the huge trees made shadows and it created an atmosphere of a dark cold night. The air was cold, there was a fresh smell of a lot of kinds of plants which was quite enjoyable. Sherlock recognised them all, as he once wrote on his blog an article on plants and their smell. At the memory of an element of his past life, he felt a pain in his heart and tried to chase away some awfully bad memories. He entered the small house and found five Special Agents in a room that looked strangely bigger than the house did. The walls once grey were covered in blood that seemed "to come from different bodies", as Sherlock deducted. There wasn't much furniture: two old black chairs, one couch and a table on which was lying a lifeless body.

"A woman, thirty-two years old, married but had a secret lover, explains the ring that surely fell of her open bag" Sherlock didn't hear Will greeting him as he was deducing about the victim.

"Well I see someone is quite busy. Her name is Nichole Jackson, in case you haven't deduced yet. Her husband found her body two hours ago, but it wasn't the only one."

"The second one is probably a man, her secret lover. I bet the husband killed them both out of jealousy. Case solved." Sherlock was walking away, followed by Will, from the room to enter the kitchen where there was a man lying on his back, eyes wide open.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes, said Jack Crawford, this looks like a much easier case than the Ripper's one, doesn't it? What do you deduce?"

"This place was known only by the husband and the wife, declared Will at the moment Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, this man was an intruder into this sacred house. The married couple surely did live some magical moments in here and this was theirs."

"But the woman clearly didn't feel the magic anymore, so it became her and her lover's place. The husband discovers them both here and murders them, concluded Sherlock."

"The hypothesis seems coherent, affirmed Jack Crawford after thinking for a minute or two. The husband, Henry Jackson, did seem a bit suspicious. Yet, the weapon that killed Nichole Jackson and Gregory Simpson is nowhere to be found. It was a sharp kitchen knife, but you surely already know it. The point is that… without it, we can't be really sure of anything."

"Obvious, it wasn't a cold blooded murder. You will find it somewhere in the forest really close to the house." Sherlock and Will recited these same words together, as some kind of song that children sing before Christmas break. They stared at each other, feeling surprised but at the same time knowing this would happen more often than they wished.

"Fine, I'm sending two men looking for it. Great job." Jack seemed really satisfied of this astonishing coincidence, because it proved his point that Will could work with the English detective.

Will Graham and Sherlock Holmes were alone in the tiny kitchen, well almost, there was still the body of Simpson on the bloody floor which made the whole situation even more awkward for both of them. Will was observing his new colleague carefully, he wanted to know every detail of him, from his dark messy hair to his black clean shoes. He wanted to understand Sherlock's soul, just like the mind of a serial killer; that mysterious detective attracted every bit of Will's curiosity and interest. The Special Agent felt around Sherlock in a way he'd never felt before: he finally knew how it was to be observed, he knew how the people, the scenes of crime felt when he stared at them. He wondered what Sherlock was thinking about him, what kind of information he was deducing about Will Graham, though he already knew the principal about "doggy man". They remained in this position of observation for at least an hour and none of them said a word until Jack came back with an even more satisfied look on his face than he'd had when he left.

"You were both right about the knife, we sent it to the lab for an analysis and took Henry Jackson to the station and take his deposition once again. Though we had some kind of half confession when Jackson saw the weapon. I think, gentlemen, you've just solved your first crime together. See, Will, it isn't so horribly insurmountable after all. I have to go. Goodbye."

The two men still didn't say anything after Jack Crawford left. After another few minutes of silence, Will Graham felt it was time to break it, yet not to leave the detective.

"As I think we're done for today, would you like to come to my place for lunch? You could meet my dogs."

"Why not, I have nothing else planned anyway. Let's go." Sherlock didn't seem that much enthusiast over the invitation. Will was confused; one day Sherlock was friendly, the day after he acted as if he hated Graham.


When Will and Sherlock arrived at the Agent's home, at least six dogs ran towards them and moved happily their tails to their master. Sherlock couldn't believe that a man who seemed to enjoy loneliness so much like Will could have such a lot of dogs. Then he understood: these animals were Will Graham's stability and happiness. They were what maintained him to feel emotions, as long as he had something to care about, he wouldn't become what he tried to understand. The vulnerable side of Will provoked a sentiment of sympathy in Sherlock, feeling he hadn't felt in years. But he refused to make a new friend, he couldn't afford to feel again. He knew what happened to the people he cared about. For the second time of the day, he had to chase away from his mind some bad memories he never wanted yet to completely forget, to always remind him that he can't have friends. Both of them walked in the kitchen and Sherlock sat at the table while Will prepared some food. After he finished making his meal, he walked towards Sherlock, quite awkwardly.

"I'm warning you, Sherlock Holmes, I am not such a good cooker."

"Then, why inviting me if it weren't to show off your culinary talents?" Sherlock had a malicious smile.

"I guess I just wanted to 'celebrate' our first case solved together, and also, as hard as it is for me to admit it, I want to know you more than I do." Will was slightly blushing, which surprised Sherlock more than the content of his sentence. Will Graham wanted to know him? After showing hostility and reject to Sherlock. He wasn't outraged or anything because he was rooting to know more Will too. He actually felt relieved to know the feeling was mutual.

"Fine. What delicious meal are we eating?"

"Pasta with vegetables… Don't look at me that way! I told you I'm a bad cook."

Will was very amused by this situation, a few days ago, he couldn't stand this pretentious English and now he wanted to know everything about him. "Human nature is the most and quickest changeable matter in the universe." Will was thinking while eating the pasta.

Afterwards, Will proposed Sherlock to fish together but this last one replied that he wasn't psychologically ready yet, though he'd like to another time. That was actually an excuse, Sherlock wanted to spend the rest of his day with Will, but he knew it was his duty not to become fond of his "doggy man".


When he came to his small, messy flat, Sherlock made himself a tea and sat on his armchair, a place where he always sat when he needed to think. He tried to figure out why, of all the places in the world, his brother Mycroft Holmes had sent him here to continue with his life, at least for a while. He had a tough, sad past in London and wasn't ready at all to go back there. Sherlock Holmes spent the rest of his evening working on the rapport on the Chesapeake Ripper. He had the presentiment that he and Will could find the murderer, but only if they learn to know each other by heart. Therefore, the criminal could enjoy of his freedom for a little while.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or anything of the Hannibal world. Please follow/favourite the story if you like it and don't forget to review, comment, give a suggestion or just express yourself about the story. Thank you!