The Strange Case of Doctor Watson and Mister Ives

Part Four: Meet Mr. Ives

John sat in the corner back at the Yard while Lestrade and his team offered ideas for Sherlock to shoot down with as much disdain as an HMRMC sniper on a skeet range.

He felt the weight of the extra phone in his pocket. The dead counterfeiter's phone was missing, Sherlock had pointed that out, and Watson had a hunch it was closer by than they thought.

He pulled it out and stared at the message light. He had no idea why he could not bring himself to mention it to Holmes. He tried several times but the mercurial man was in his full glory occupying centre stage and absorbing the spotlight.

Oh by the by, Holmes, your flatmate woke up with a pretty bird this morning with expensive clothes strewn about he has never seen but that fit him like a glove, a dead man's phone in his pocket, idents that the man probably made before his horrible demise, and a message from the killer, you think that might help your investigation a bit?

He did not realize he let out a little bit of a snort of amusement until he realized everyone had stopped talking and were now staring at him.

"Do you have something to add, John?" Sherlock inquired his eyes curious.

"Oh no," John replied, "I think they are feeding your enormous ego well enough, no point in adding to the carnage." He was surprised at the acid in his tone, and he could feel the tension in the room ratchet up a notch as people turned back to Sherlock to see his reaction.

Sherlock just shrugged. "As you were saying Donovan?"

Sally gave John a worried glance and launched back into her explanation, glowering at Sherlock's pre-emptive amused sniff.

John felt a slight flush of shame. He had been one of the few to give Sherlock cheek in the past, but here lately his retorts had been vicious and pointed and devoid of the affection he normally felt for the fashionable scarecrow.

He saw Lestrade eyeing him with speculation.

"Is the lab results back on that blood we found on the Golem?" Sherlock inquired.

Lestrade still staring at John shook his head, "something's wonky about the sample, it's giving them fits."

"Maybe I should go down and take a look," Sherlock replied with an impatient sigh.

Lestrade shook his head empathically, "Scotland Yard has some of the best lab rats in the world, you're not going to go down there and find something they haven't, you can insult us, we're used to it, but that's a sensitive lot down there and I'll not have you upsetting 'em."

Sherlock acted appalled. "You just assume that I'm going to offend someone, I can be charming if the situation calls for it..."

"Just ask Molly at the morgue in St. Bart's, she actually thinks Sherlock likes her, moons over him like a school girl over a pop star, it's pretty disgusting really," John blurted out before he could stop himself.

There was that same pregnant silence as everyone forgot to breathe.

Sherlock actually blinked in surprise, what John said was true, but for the normally laid back man to be so openly nasty to his flatmate was out of character on a very obvious level.

"I'm sorry," John replied, "I think I need to go home and get some rest," he stood up and the change in elevation immediately went to his head, and suddenly he knew he was going to black out. "If you don't mind, I think I'll take a nap right here," he murmured with a small chuckle then he felt himself falling forward, strong arms caught him and he smelled a familiar cologne before he completely passed out. "G'night," he whispered before the dark took him.

Sherlock looked down at the man limp in his arms; he finally was noticing the signs of severe exhaustion.

"The man has to fall unconscious before you pay attention, don't he, freak," Sally called out as she crossed to a landline to call for help.

Lestrade bent down and checked John's wrist, Sherlock looked strangely paralysed. He met Sherlock's eyes, his face was calm as he said, "He seems to be alright, but I think we need to get him to a trauma to make sure."

"He's lost a lot of weight, and looks like he hasn't slept in a month, what's going on with him, Mister Holmes?" Dimmock inquired fidgeting, "I noticed earlier but we all got a bit distracted."

Sherlock shifted John to a more comfortable position. "I'm really not sure, I...I never noticed...he's a doctor, I figured he can look after his own health."

"You're also supposed to be his friend," Sally replied slamming down the receiver, "he lives under the same roof as you and we all could see something was wrong, and you never had a clue..."

"Sally," Lestrade growled.

She cut off what she was going to say abruptly but she bent down and gently brushed John's hair from his forehead, it was still a little damp.

Dimmock left to escort the paramedics and it was not long before they were gently lifting John out of Sherlock's hands and settling him on a gurney, checking the smaller man's vitals and placing an oxygen mask over his face.

Sherlock looked lost standing there as they wheeled his only friend out; Lestrade gently guided the man to sit down.

"I never noticed, Sally's right, I observed the changes but I thought he would right himself, he's always so adamant that nothing's wrong, I never pried...never investigated...I..." he stopped as his voice cracked.

"We can handle this investigation for a bit, go and make sure he's alright," Lestrade encouraged.

Sherlock nodded and he swept out.

"Right," Lestrade stated as he stood up, "let's look at the commonalities,"

Sally gave him a surprised look, but Lestrade gave her a short shake of his head to drop the subject, she reluctantly obliged, and soon they were back investigating the two cases.

While he they bandied about theories a man dropped a lab report on Lestrade's desk, the blood found on the Golem was finally traced to a veteran's database...Doctor John H. Watson formerly of the Royal Army Medical Corps.

~-o0o-~

The patient was stable so Alfred leaned back and settled in for the drive to the A&E at St. Tom's, he saw a variation in the heart rate, he leaned over the body to check the machine and suddenly a very strong hand had him by the neck.

"Hullo there, Lovely, if you don't mind undoing these here straps, I have a busy schedule and I'll be on my way, otherwise I might try to see if I can discover a new use for the defib you got over there, now wouldn't that be the bugger all?"

Alfred with shaking hands reached down and loosened the straps.

~-o0o-~

Lestrade honked his horn trying to get over the bridge, his bubble was flashing on but no one seemed inclined to move their arses over. "Donovan, write down some bloody tags, I'll make sure these slow-coach blighters never drive again!" he commanded in a growl.

"I may never drive again," lamented Dimmock from the rear compartment.

Truth be known, he wanted to give Donovan something to do; she was so pale he was not sure she would not pass out on him. "It can't be John Watson," she informed him in a small voice, "it just can't be Chief Inspector."

"It has to be a mistake," Dimmock inserted as he flinched at the manoeuvre Lestrade pulled off to get past a saloon filled with rambunctious teenagers that should have been in class somewhere that time of day.

"Of course it's not," Lestrade replied through gritted teeth as he barely missed an Arctic and nearly rear ended a slow crawling lorry, "which means that the killer is tagging him for some reason, and if he's being tied to the scenes..."

Donovan's eyes grew large as she followed his line of thought. "Then he's a loose end...Put yer foot in it, sir!"

Dimmock grumbled. "Oh bugger."

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Lestrade complained, he finally slipped in between two other cars near enough to scrape paint and found some room to speed up, he immediately had to slam his brakes and pull into a space because up ahead he saw and ambulance pulled up on the walk, he saw a cab pulled in behind it with the door open and an irate cabby staring at Sherlock Holmes as he flittered about the Ambulance like a carrion crow on hot pavement.

Lestrade and Donovan got out and ran up as Dimmock opened the door and bent over double trying to stop hyperventilating.

"He's gone!" Sherlock stated ruffling his hair.

"That wasn't the man that we checked at the Yard!" the paramedic yelled back. "What the bloody hell is going on here?"

Sherlock was about to launch another barrage when Lestrade forcibly grabbed his arm and tugged him to the side. "What happened?" he demanded.

"They said he woke up, but he was someone else and he forced them to pull over and let him off, John's jumper was in that rubbish bin over there, of all the incompetence..."

"The blood on the Golem was John's," Lestrade remarked trying to head off the unproductive tirade.

"That's preposterous," Sherlock yelled.

"Where was he that night?" Lestrade inquired, "We know he's been exhausted."

"John Watson is not a suspect!" Sherlock stated adamantly.

"Sir?" Dimmock, who had finally joined them interrupted. He was holding the discarded jumper in his hands, wrapped inside was a new smart phone. "I think he meant for us to find this."

Lestrade gave the younger man a smile. "I knew there was a reason I had you promoted from my bagman."

"Ah nepotism, that explains how he made inspector," Sherlock added acidly.

Donovan had had enough of Holmes. "Just shut it, Freak, while you're having hysterics we've still got a job to do, who do you think the next target is going to be if this man has implicated John, as you always say to us...THINK!"

Sherlock looked taken aback, but his brilliant mind made the leap. "We've got to find him."

Lestrade had been studying the Smartphone using the jumper so he kept the fingerprints intact. "This might tell us, there's a message waiting to be played and it looks like it's for John."

Sherlock went into that calm, cold collected mode that he showed at crime scenes. "That phone belonged to the counterfeiter, I'm sure of it."

Dimmock sighed wearily. "Then John was with us the entire time with the dead man's phone in his pocket, I saw him toying with it earlier, but I thought it was his."

"It just can't be him, he was nowhere near strong enough to do that much damage, especially here lately," Sally said with a worried look.

Sherlock used his gloved finger to press play on the message.

Hello, John, my name is Howard; I think it's time we met...

The face look similar to John's but it was thicker and more rugged somehow, and the eyes were dark and cold.

I'm sure you waking up beside some random bird will be upsetting, but let's face it mon frer, you needed to get laid like mad!"

The chuckle was devoid of any true humour which made it chilling to hear.

I know your first impulse is to inform someone in authority of what's happening to you, Sherlock first of all, but let me put it to you this way, who would believe you? Your flatmate especially.

I can see this conversation. "Hey, Sherlock, you know that super strong man with the reflexes, who can charm females and tie men into fisherman's? He's living right up the stairs from you!

I'll make you this proposal, if you leave me be, let me operate for one more week, I can guarantee that your flatmate will never have anything more to fear from Moriarty, or his brother's interference, just one week John and I go away permanently and you never have to worry about a red sniper dot painting your flatmate's head red, or the wall behind it, I know you've been up nights worrying about it.

So, keep this under your hat, and all will be well, mention it to anyone and we wind up in an institution somewhere being poked and prodded...by the time you get out, Sherlock will be long dead.

Think about it...see you in the mirror.

CLICK

They all stared at the phone in silence with the cacophony of the city swirling around them.

Lestrade shook out of his revelry. "Dimmock, catch that cabby and have him drive you back to the Yard, put out an all points on a Howard matching this description, and process this phone," he said as he handed it over to the younger man still swaddled in the discarded jumper, "Donovan sort this scene here, get the ambulance out of the way and take down their statements."

The other two left on their assignments leaving Sherlock and Lestrade standing there.

"You know something...gimmie," Lestrade demanded in a low tone.

Sherlock's pensive expression faded back into the insouciant arrogance. "I know someone. I think it's time we paid my brother a visit."

~o0o~

Newly dressed from an upscale clothing shop he knew had his sizes from previous patronage, Howard leaned against the alleyway a block down and across, he watched as Sherlock and Lestrade argued about riding in the Police car, then watched as Sherlock acquiesced and they began to pull out into traffic.

Howard smiled and flagged down a cab, sliding into the back.

"You see those coppers down there? I want you to follow them."

The older cabby turned in his seat. "Follow cops, are you serious?"

The man in the compartment gave him cold, dark, shark eyes. "If you lose them, things will definitely get serious." He flashed a fifty pound note and the cabby stifled a shudder and did as he was bid.

A death threat and a scary dangerous man in my backseat telling me to follow some coppers...yep...one of THOSE days!

Part 05 -