Author's note: More followers! Wohoo!
Warnings: Crime, angst, and, oh, did I mention the bromance? Because there is a lot of bromance. Be warned, all you not-bromance-likers.
Btw, the bit in the last chapter, about Sherlock having to solve the case – that was quite personal. I feel like that when I can't write.
I don't own anything, please review.
The killer, sadly, hadn't left them much to go on, and Sherlock, after spending an hour analyzing the nail polish, while John read the newspaper and got coffee, had to admit that his doctor had been right all along. The nail polish was "Pumpkin Orange Nr 72" and was sold in four stores in London, which, naturally, lessened the suspect pool quite a bit, even if you did count the boyfriends and mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and best friends who bought it as a gift – because normally you wouldn't choose such a strong colour for a gift. You'd only buy it if you were sure the person liked it – like John did.
Other than this not-really-a-discovery, which sadly, didn't exclude Harry from any suspicion, he had virtually nothing. The killer had taken the belt she'd apparently been strangled with, as well as the knife, with him; she(/he; never automatically assume anything without enough data, no matter how likely it seems) had apparently been wearing gloves; And there had been no evidence whatsoever in the alleyway.
Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his hair. John looked up from his paper. "What happened?"
"Nothing, that's what" Sherlock snapped, sounding perhaps harsher than he intended. "The only thing I have to go is the nail polish – you were right about that, it is the rare label you buy for your sister – but other than that – yes, it narrows down the suspect pool, but – still, there are too many possible suspects. Nothing that would tie anyone to the murder – at least it wouldn't be enough to ensure a conviction".
"But, surely, this can't be everything" John answered, folding his paper and putting it into the pocket of his jacket. "You have solved cases with far less evidence before".
"That is true, but – " Sherlock murmured, distracted by looking once again at the nail polish through the microscope, not realizing that he had just used a word that automatically sent alarm bells ringing in John's head: "But".
"But what?" John demanded immediately, and Sherlock was so surprised by the exclamation and the realization that he, in fact, had just given something away, because, once again, he had allowed his brain to distract him when he should have controlled what he said, that he winced. Which, of course, convinced John even more that something was amiss.
Sherlock didn't want to lie to John. But he couldn't tell him the truth. So he took care to look unconcerned, looked into the microscope again and said, quietly, "It's just... the cases with less evidence... they were all before".
Of course John knew immediately what he meant by "before". He shuddered, but only slightly.
"Don't worry, Sherlock, you always make it – well except when Mycroft decides to equip a flight with dead bodies in order to fool terrorists".
"I really had nothing to go on in that case, as you are well aware" Sherlock replied, making sure that his voice had just the right amount of whining in it, not enjoying this act one bit. But it did the trick; John smiled and stretched himself.
"I'm going to have coffee. Do you need a refill too?"
"Yes, please" Sherlock answered, rather happy to be able to be alone with his thoughts for a while.
Only he wasn't, because as soon as John had left the lab, Molly came in.
"Sherlock, I think you should see this" she said, excitedly. "I was just preparing the body for autopsy and scrubbing off more of the nail polish for eventual further test when I found this."
She gave him the bag. Sherlock looked at the new evidence.
There was the scrubbed off nail polish, sure, but –
Underneath the bright orange, there appeared to be something closely resembling –
"Blood?" he asked, feeling excitement curse through his veins.
"Could be" Molly replied. "Of course, it is a rather small amount, but since I didn't find any injury on her fingers, and her hands are completely clean, because the killer only stabbed her torso – "
"There is a good chance the blood belongs to our killer. Maybe she scratched her while she was strangled" Sherlock finished.
"She?" Molly looked confused.
"The victim was a lesbian and was found near a lesbian club, where she had left in the company of another woman – " Sherlock explained, though already trailing off, because he was preparing the DNA-test that would prove, once and for all, that his idea had been nothing but wild conjecture.
"Oh, I see. I'll leave you to it, then".
"Sure, thank you" Sherlock mumbled automatically as she was leaving the lab. The DNA-test would take a while, and he needed something to compare it to –
Of course. How stupid of him. John had been in the military, where he'd been subjected to several medical tests a year – not only medical tests, but blood tests. You could get DNA from a blood sample... Maybe they had kept one...
Only one way to find out, and though Sherlock didn't particularly care to admit it, that way included asking his brother for help.
So he called Mycroft, who picked up after the first ring.
"Brother dear, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I don't have time for this now, Mycroft – I need a DNA-sample from John, and rather quickly" Sherlock replied. There must have been something in his voice, because Mycroft didn't ask why. In fact his only question was more than reasonable.
"Couldn't you ask John?"
"Mycroft, I don't want him to know – yet. If it all turns out well, he'll never have to know".
"Very well" his older brother answered, apparently ready to help, though he didn't know why Sherlock needed the sample. All in good time. Maybe, just maybe, if – when it all turned out to be pure imagination, he might tell Mycroft some time. But not now. Definitely not now.
"I was wondering if perhaps there was any way you could use your "minor position in the British Government" to access John's old service records and find out if there was any way I could get a DNA sample from old blood tests or anything similar" Sherlock responded, though without malice. Mycroft's and his relationship was complicated at best, but things had got easier once he'd returned. He'd never blamed Mycroft for telling Moriarty his life story – he himself, so passionate about his work, couldn't bear anyone a grudge who tried to do his "job" – in this case, running the country – at any cost. But his older brother had felt guilty, and had in fact been extremely happy and relieved (for Mycroft, at least, which meant he had let his umbrella drop when he'd seen Sherlock again for the first time) and, somehow, ever since then, though they still annoyed each other and bickered most of the time, it was easier. Better. They trusted one another now, in a way. Before he died, Sherlock would most likely never have called Mycroft in a case like this. But now...
His train of thought was interrupted by hearing his elder brother chuckling over the phone. "Sherlock, do you honestly believe that I am not in possession of a DNA-sample of every single one of your friends?" Maybe that should have made him angry. Or annoyed. But he concentrated rather on the fact that Mycroft had pronounced the word "friends" without any sarcasm. Maybe – at least concerning John and Greg – that was because they had somehow become Mycroft's friends too. And there weren't many people in the world who managed to live with both Holmes' in their lives.
"Right, how silly of me". They were silent for a moment. "Just out of curiosity, brother mine, when and how did you obtain that sample?"
"I don't always have him "kidnapped" as he puts it, to an abandoned warehouse. Sometimes we have coffee too. He normally leaves me to pay, which means he leaves and I am left alone with his used coffee cup."
"Rather dull, Mycroft. I think the diet is finally getting to your imagination".
"If that was the case, Sherlock, you would never have caught a single criminal" Mycroft replied, and if anyone else had used that tone, Sherlock would have considered it "good-natured". "I will send you the DNA-profile presently by e-mail."
"Thank you" Sherlock said, before they both hung up. They might be able to talk to each other now without insulting one another, but there was no need to maintain the facade of correct social interaction. They had never really greeted or said goodbye to each other on the phone – that was the way they worked. And now, for once, it actually did work. Sherlock wouldn't admit it, but he was grateful for that.
The e-mail arrived a few minutes later, and he was just accessing it through his smartphone, when the door opened once again and Mike Stamford strolled in. As the DNA from the blood wasn't even close to run through, and he hadn't anything better to do than to wait for Greg to make an identification, or for John to show up, and he actually liked the teacher, Sherlock smiled and greeted him politely.
"Hello, Mike".
"Hey, Sherlock, John told me you were here. Your coffee might take a while – when I saw him, he was chatting with the new nurse."
Sherlock almost rolled his eyes at this, but only almost, because he noticed a certain mischievous twinkle in Mike's eyes. "You might want to tell him that she's going to get married in a few weeks".
"Why should I? I have been told several times that I am not the best person to give someone news they don't want to hear" Sherlock answered and shrugged his shoulders. Mike smiled.
"I suppose you are right. John said something about a dead woman in an alleyway?"
"Yes, I'm running blood Molly found under her fingernails now" Sherlock responded, and then, because he thought it was polite (and he still tried to be nice to people, well, people he liked, anyway) he asked after Mike's family, which naturally led to a rather longue monologue about the teacher's son learning to speak.
Sherlock listened occasionally, and sometimes just made affirmative noises, while keeping an eye on the blood sample. He really wished it would just finish – this case would be so much easier when he'd disproved his first hypothesis and he could take John into his confidence (not about his silly suspicion, of course. But they could talk about the case then without Sherlock having to carefully choose his every word).
Mike suddenly stopped talking and looked at his watch. "Oh, I should be off - I really have to finish the paperwork, if I ever want to get home again. Would be easier though if my students weren't so bright and wrote at least an answer half a page long to every question. God I hate them."
And with a smile, and a cheerful wave, he was gone, but once again, Sherlock wasn't left alone, because John came in with the coffee not two minutes afterwards.
"Sorry about that, Sherlock – I had a nice chat with the new nurse. Who's apparently going to be married quite soon, as Mike just informed me when he ran past me on his way to his office" John apologized, though clearly more amused than exasperated as he gave Sherlock his cup of black, two sugars and put his own on a table.
"Something turn up while I was gone?"
"Molly found blood under the victim's nail polish, most likely from the killer, and it should be run any minute now – "
Just as Sherlock was saying this, the test was finished and he could print out the DNA-profile.
"See? Told you there would be another lead soon. So, what are we – Sherlock?" John sounded worried. And with good reason. The consulting detective started at the printed page, clenching the paper in his hands, his face even paler than usual.
John of course didn't know that the DNA-profile Sherlock was currently looking at –
Obviously belonged to a close female relative of the person whose profile Mycroft had sent him just fifteen minutes ago.
Author's note: I know. I'm a very very bad troll with my cliffhangers. But, hey, at least it keeps you coming back, right?
Also, double dose today, because I don't know when/if I'll be able to upload tomorrow. So I decided to be nice and keep writing (oh, who am I kidding? It makes me happy).
Fun fact: I actually didn't know at first where Sherlock could get a DNA sample from John without him noticing. Of course, there is always the possibility that he took some blood of him once for an experiment or something, but where's the fun in that? Then I realized that meant I could bring Mycroft in, and... well...
I am aware that my fics suffer from "all-characters-have-to-appear-syndrome", but I just love writing about the crew working together.
I hope you liked it, please review.
