Sirens wailed like toddlers being stolen from their parent's firm grasp. All tranquilly that had been present only minutes before had been hidden beneath the constant noise and chaos which seemed to control the area. In a flurry of haste the officers selected and Sherlock suited up. Blue plastic overalls and singed yellow safety hats were passed round the cluster of a dozen tall men ready to do their jobs. After several last safety checks of communicators, cameras and an assortment of forensic equipment, the squad which consisted of selfless men and women, was ready for the tedious mission which lay ahead of them.
"Jan will lead Team two, Tony Team three and Sherlock you'll be in charge of team one." Lestrade explained, introducing each leader first to each other, then the rest of their team.
"Stay with your group and collect as much evidence as you can! You leave in two minutes!" he shouted, his command spoken with such a sense of confidence and authority, only Sherlock dared to complain.
"I work better alone. Other people just slow me down." He insisted as he followed Lestrade to a car filled with equipment.
"That's not an option Sherlock. God knows what's in there…"
"But-"
"End of discussion Sherlock." Sighing heavily to show his displeasure, Sherlock walked back over to his team leaving an astounded Lestrade behind him. He had won an argument with Sherlock. He remembered the days where his sharp tongue and quick wit would have convinced anyone to do what he said in mere moments (or made them want to strangle him). But now, those days were long gone and his spirit was broken.
"Sherlock?" a high pitched voice seemed to squeal. After a moment, Sherlock sighed in frustration and spun round to confront his forensics 'partner'.
"Anderson…" he replied with no enthusiasm or kindness. Eyes darting left and right Sherlock examined the specimen which stood before him. New glasses bought two weeks ago with a wrong prescription from the way he squints his eyes; Had a shower earlier today from the slight damp spot on his collar and his body language implying he wanted to go somewhere else but felt the great need to talk. Typical Anderson…
"Are you okay Sherlock?" Anderson questioned like a good friend would if he was truly concerned. He tried to read Sherlock but couldn't as his expression was as hard as stone.
"You do your job, I do mine. Don't get in my way!" he declared trailing off into darkness. Anderson turned to face Lestrade and shook his head. Sherlock was lost to them and his heart had blackened.
Two minutes later, it began. Their torches flickered in the hazy night as if trying to show the way to a brighter day. As one, they began to tread into the unknown dirt and misery which lay in front of them, consumed by darkness, hidden in a clouded veil of grime and desperation
"Shall we?"
A/N - Please review and follow!