Chapter Three

The next day, John was swamped with an intricate autopsy on a corpse that apparently was the third in a string of similar suicides. Poisoning was suspected based upon an empty pill bottle found with each victim, and each suicide appeared to be inexplicable in that the victims had displayed no tendencies toward depression and had no business being in the locations where their bodies were found.

"I would be willing to spot you a month's rent if you could give me a clue here, John," Lestrade's dismal voice carried through the room over the sound of John's computer printing out the results of the autopsy.

"How's that, Greg?"

"Well, they appear to be suicides, but who ever heard of suicide being contagious?"

"They're linked, you mean," John supplied, snatching the papers from the printer. "It is a bit much to be coincidence. Murder, then? Administered by force?"

"You think it possible?"

"Not physically by force, at any rate. No signs of violence on the body whatsoever, and while there was considerable alcohol in the blood and stomach not even a drunk woman would self-administer poison in the same manner as two other people in recent weeks," John answered, reading over his findings. He frowned in contemplation, while Lestrade slumped into a chair. "You are certain there's no link between the three victims other than methodology and the poison used?"

"None that we've been able to find. It's a real puzzler, honestly." The DI sighed dramatically, and ran a hand through his greying hair. "The press is having a field day with it - you should have seen the conference this morning."

John made a sympathetic tsk in the back of his throat. Flipping to the medical information about the poison, he scanned the papers briefly and then handed them over with a shrug. "I honestly can't tell you more than your previous coroner could on the first two bodies, if the reports are any indication."

"Anything that struck you as out of the ordinary?" Lestrade asked desperately. "Anything at all?"

"Besides the fact that I've never actually seen a botulism poisoning outside of medical school? (1) Whoever your former coroner was, points to him for discovering something that obscure because I wouldn't have thought to check for it." His brow furrowed in thought. "Mm. Poison suicides are a favoured choice, especially among women - less traumatic mentally than a bullet to the brain, for example, and takes less internal fortitude to administer - but there was no hypodermic mark on the body." John frowned. "Botulism poisoning is actually quite clever, because even a tiny dosage - a millionth of a gram, even that small - is enough to kill an average adult in seconds. There's no reason, however, that it would even be put into pill form, and absolutely no possibility that the three victims made the pills themselves; they wouldn't be able to get hold of it and manufacture the pills."

Lestrade perked up with interest. "That makes sense...so they must have a supplier, then? Is that the link, you think? Are we looking for a shady physician?"

John shook his head, frowning. "Well, it would be fairly easy for the right kind of doctor to lay his hands on and administer clostridium botulinum," he mused aloud. "But your records would show if they all frequented the same physician, wouldn't they?"

Deflating with a sigh, Lestrade nodded. "Yeah, and we've not discovered anything of the kind. No leads whatsoever. Also it still doesn't explain why they all voluntarily took poison with no signs of any sort of struggle...not to mention that you didn't find any puncture wounds on the bodies and like you said, pills of the stuff would be hard to come by..."

John tapped a finger against his lips, before venturing with a bit of hesitation, "The only other thing which could possibly be of interest to you, Inspector, is the fact that botulism is one of the few toxins to which there is actually a vaccine - you can make yourself immune to it. That's all I can tell you, I'm afraid." (2)

"So basically we know they weren't immune. Helpful, that," Lestrade teased him as he got up.

John grinned good-naturedly. "Well, you know. Investigative intuition isn't my division. Speaking of, how is your mysterious vanishing-out-of-thin-air case going?"

"Nowhere fast," Lestrade sighed. "Still haven't been able to turn up any leads, though I've got a call in to the last victim's cleaning company so maybe a maid will remember what's been taken from the room. Other than that, nothing."

"Well, I have to say I am intrigued, Inspector." John blushed lightly. "If you need a police surgeon on the scene for some reason if there's another victim -"

"Still scouting proper material for that novel of the century, eh." Lestrade laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll see what I can do. Least I owe you for how neatly you've slid in to fill the gap old Algy left when he retired. The place has never run this efficiently. Military influence has done us all good, y'know?"

John was rather pleased at the rare praise; there was no glory in the job, really, and while he was grateful for the opportunity to do something with his abilities besides prescribe antibiotics for sick children at a charity clinic, occasionally he wished for something with a bit more excitement. Having a ranking police inspector on his side, besides the fact that Greg was a good friend, couldn't do anything but help him in the politics that came with this business.

Lestrade paused by the door, papers in hand. "Let me know if you've any ideas, will you John? No matter how strange, we'll take anything at this point."

John gave him a cursory nod, already moving on to file the autopsy paperwork. He had volunteered to cover the midnight shift tonight, and wanted to make certain he could run back to his flat for a few hours to catch a nap and a bite to eat before returning to the boring night ahead. Lestrade dropped in once more, just as he was preparing to leave, to tell him that a fourth breaking-and-entering had occurred with yet another mysterious disappearance, but that once again they had no clues as to the perpetrator.

Lestrade offered to come back later that night to go over the cases again and keep him company through the more relaxed evening shift, but John waved him off, knowing the DI's wife would not be happy that he was not at home on a rainy night.

Besides, John needed privacy to begin research into his mysterious second employer.

He returned to his small office late that evening, and after determining his priority list for the night was low decided to spend his time thinking about his prospective mission. Something just sounded a bit off to him about the whole affair, and his instincts were screaming at him to be extremely careful - that he was playing with enemy fire, and could easily become a casualty. At the same time, he could not distinguish a particular reason why he felt this way, as his employer had not asked him to perform any duty which technically violated his sense of ethics. It was a conundrum, certainly, and while he was appreciative of the opportunity and excitement, he was also far too wary of gift horses. His therapist insisted he had trust issues, and while he believed she was mistaken about the depth of his PTSD, for one, he was inclined to agree with her first assessment.

Finally frustrated with his own uncertainty, he turned to his computer and booted up a private browsing session.

A cursory scour of the internet using key words from the file turned up more conspiracy theories than he could get through in a century, and he stopped after an hour in frustration. However, the little voice in the back of his mind which fuelled his scepticism and analytical nature piped up, informing him that he had found nothing which would prove that the contents of Mr. X's files were inaccurate. The absence of proof did not negate truth, and he was a bit uneasy that he had not easily discounted the fanciful tale with a bit of research - rather the opposite; there were actually corroborating and completely unrelated accounts. No matter how far-fetched they were, they did all agree, which was unusual for an elaborate hoax. What clinched his doubts, however, was the fact that he had more than once stumbled upon web pages which suddenly shut down on him, or which popped up as blocked access. And who would bother to block internet pages - and why? - about these things unless there was indeed information which the public was not to know?

Was it really possible that he had stepped straight into something that sounded suspiciously like a science-fiction television program?

Frowning, he turned back to the browsing session, and in desperation typed in The Doctor Torchwood Blue Box Aliens Classified Tardis Sightings. He pressed the Enter key and waited.

And his computer shut down completely, making a dismal popping noise before going silent.

Despite all his swearing and unplugging/plugging, no amount of trying could get it to turn on again. After two hours and a squad from IT trying to fix it without success, John was beginning to think perhaps his mysterious Mr. X was more dangerous than he had at first sized him up to be.

Also, now he was going to have to fill out the requisitional paperwork and explain why he needed a new computer after only a short time on the job.

Could his week possibly get any worse?

Mycroft Holmes's mobile chirped as he sat down for a tea break between his last two appointments of the day.

You and your internet security protocols owe me a new computer. Make it a new Mac and I might consider your offer.
JW

His secretary Wilkins popped in a moment later, horrified that his staid employer was doing something so utterly improper as laughing aloud in a government office.

(1) ASIP never specified the poison used in the episode, and with the invaluable aid of Pompey's medical research I chose this as both a feasible explanation as well as a nod to TGG, in which botulism poisoning is again used by Moriarty.
(2) I have to admit I'm of the camp of ASIP-watchers who has also seen The Princess Bride; I believe that both pills were poison and the cabbie vaccinated against the toxin, rather than just one pill as poison, but that's just my opinion.