Chapter 3: The hunted Beast
Lestrade stood up in front of his men. "We can't wait for another crime to happen and hope that will be the exact time and place the beast will be around. Best we could set up ma few traps at strategic locations, near where crimes often happen. That means we need someone to act as bait, pretending he is committing a crime. We do not want another victim on our hands. Anyone want to volunteer?" A few hands slowly came up. No one was really excited about it but it was part of the job. Sherlock's hand was up as well.
"Sorry, Sherlock, but you are still a civilian and I can't let you do that. The best thing you can do is to find the optimal place for our trap." Lestrade didn't really seem to be sorry about not letting Sherlock do this and Sherlock huffed into his scarf. No one was going to stop him, when he had found the perfect location.
Police officers in civil were on the streets in teams of ten. Two played the crime, the other eight were armed and hidden waiting for the beast to appear. They (the police) had decided it was best to only use four places. They didn't have enough men to set more traps and guard them. To avoid panic spreading into the population they hadn't informed the public about what they were planning.
They set up an attempted murder scene, a drug deal resulting in a fight, an assault and a fake rape. Crimes similar or close to the ones the beast had stopped before. Sherlock wasn't convinced it would work so he and to his disappointment also Lestrade walked around the neighborhood looking for a real crime. Sherlock was looking, Lestrade was busy watching/following him and coordinating his team. Every fifteen minutes one of the fake crimes would happen and be repeated an hour later.
The first two nights nothing at all happened, neither was a real crime found by them, nor did the fake crimes lead to any form of success. On the other had there had been no new victims either which made the majority of the police force very happy. Not that Sherlock was hoping for a new victim, he just wanted to see the beast, catch or stop it and find out who was behind it. As he came home that night or better in the early morning, John was to his surprise still awake. Probably waiting for him.
"You know a fake crime won't work." Sherlock lifted one of his eyebrows. John hadn't shown interest in the case or the trap at all and now he was voicing an opinion. "Don't look at me like that. Lestrade told me about your great plan to catch the monster." John looked out of the window; the sky had begun to brighten.
"I know. That's the reason why I'm looking for a real crime to stop that and the beast. It will be a very efficient night if it works." John looked back to him in shock.
"You can't do that, what if the monster attacks you?" Sherlock could see the panic in the doctor's eyes. "Why is Lestrade allowing you to do that?"
"First: I don't need his permission. Second: he can babysit me all he wants or even better leave it. Third: I have a question for you now. Why do you call it a monster? Everyone else calls it beast." Sherlock watched John closely for any suspicious behavior.
"No reason. I better go to bed now. Have to work in the morning." With that he left.
"You don't have to wait up for me, you know." Sherlock called behind him but John just walked up to his room.
The third night he was at least more successful in finding a crime, a robbery to be precise, but only the fourth night they found the beast. Sherlock and Lestrade close to stopping the whole act heard a scream coming from an alley not ten meters from them. What they found was at the same time no surprise and the biggest surprise they had ever had.
Right in front of them was a huge black creature, standing over a man who had apparently tried to rob an old man who was also far too close to the beast. Lestrade called for backup and Sherlock walked slowly into the alley never letting the beast out of his sight, fixing it in the eyes. Beast and human were eye to eye. He could feel that this wasn't some mindless monster. It was intelligent and had feelings and was somehow familiar to him. Right now if someone had asked Sherlock he wouldn't have been able to say why, because he had no words for what he was feeling.
Sherlock heard Lestrade behind him catch his breath as he saw what Sherlock was doing. But the detective didn't want to risk infuriating or drawing too much attention from the beast and didn't call out to Sherlock to stop him. It wouldn't have worked anyway. Not two meters away from the beast Sherlock could see a scar on the left shoulder and the scent beneath the smell of the beast was something that he called home.
In his mind Sherlock could now feel answers starting to build. Answers he was not sure he could believe but the beast must have sensed it. It jumped back and ran into the night. Not one minute later back up arrived and Sherlock was more than happy that they had not caught their pray.
Making a weak excuse to Lestrade who was far too busy to stop him Sherlock practically ran home. He had to find out the truth about a few things.
