Disclaimer: Sherlock still isn't mine.
I must apologise for not updating sooner. I have been distracted with the finale of Merlin and also with the MUSE concert I went to last night (It was epic beyond words!). But now I bring chapter 7. Hope you enjoy and hope it's not too confusing. I do have a plot worked out so everything will be neatly tied up and all questions answered. :) Reviews are love.
SEVEN - in which Lestrade offers a few startling revelations
Sherlock led the way up to Lestrade's office. By now, John knew the way like the back of his own hand, but let the taller man lead anyway. The pair got the usual amount of strange looks and whispered comments, but they both knew better than to respond.
Detective Inspector Lestrade had just put his phone down when Sherlock entered his office (without knocking as per usual). John entered behind him, looking slightly guilty at the intrusion.
"Morning," John returned Lestrade's greeting. Sherlock did not.
"We need to discuss the events of last night with you," Sherlock got straight to business.
"Last night?" Looking confused, Lestrade glanced between John and Sherlock.
"Yes," John confirmed. "We can't actually-"
"We can't remember what happened last night," Sherlock cut in. "We were hoping you could fill in the gaps."
Lestrade frowned, caught between amusement and confusion. "You can't remember? Sherlock, you didn't even drink any alcohol."
'Interesting," Sherlock muttered, in concentrated thought. "What did I drink?"
"You had a glass of water," Lestrade said, then turned to John. "Even then I had to persuade him to have it. Though, knowing him, he only took it to shut me up."
John nodded, wearily as though he experienced this dilemma on a daily basis. "I know what you mean."
"That doesn't make sense. If I only drank water, how can I not remember," Sherlock said, more to himself than anyone else.
"How much did I drink?" John asked Lestrade as Sherlock's mind went into overdrive.
"Two pints, from memory. Three max. Look, I wasn't counting, but you were fine John. You both were. We were only at the pub for a few hours and then you two left to catch a cab home."
"Are you sure we went home?"
"Well, I wasn't there when you specifically told the driver '221B Baker Street'. Where else would you have gone? I can't exactly imagine you and Sherlock getting a cab to another bar or club."
John nodded. Lestrade had a fair point. He then shuddered at the thought of Sherlock in a club. Definitely not.
"Are you sure it was just water I drank?" Sherlock turned to Lestrade again. "Who got the water? Was there any point at which someone could have slipped something into both our drinks?"
"You think you were drugged?" Lestrade looked slightly outraged at the thought.
"If you are adamant I only drank water, how else would I have lost my memory?" Neither John nor Lestrade had an answer, so Sherlock continued. "The drugs would have had to be administered at that pub, because that's when the memories start fading."
"You think we were drugged?" John repeated Lestrade's question.
"I've known you long enough, to know that it would take more than a few pints of beer for you to become amnesic."
"Why would someone drug you though?" Lestrade asked.
"Revenge. Joke. Boredom."
"You think someone drugged you and John out of boredom?" Lestrade was sounding incredulous, until John muttered a name.
"Moriarty?" He locked eyes with Sherlock as the room took a sudden chill.
"No," Sherlock shook his head after a moment. Lestrade continued to glance between them, his eyes wider than usual. "No. This isn't his style."
"What? Drugging us to the point where we forget what actually happened to us? Of course that sounds like Moriarty," said John.
Sherlock shook his head again. "No," he repeated. "Moriarty wants us dead. If he was the one who drugged us, Scotland Yard would be investigating our deaths right now. We're still alive. This is too... trivial for him," Sherlock took the phrase from Mycroft.
John nodded knowing Sherlock was right and beside him Lestrade crossed his arms. None of them were impressed or happy by the revelation they had possibly been drugged the night before. John, however, didn't need to think back through his medical training to know what sort of drug had these effects. And judging from the look on Lestrade's face, the detective was thinking the same thing.
Rohypnol. The date-rape drug.
"Rohypnol," Lestrade eventually stated as though it were the only solution.
"Mm?"
"The date-rape drug, Sherlock," John explained. "Powerful sedative, muscle relaxant and-"
"Amnesic," Sherlock finished.
"Explains the lack of memory," Lestrade offered.
"Doesn't explain everything," countered Sherlock.
"Doesn't explain how the lion got into my bathroom," John muttered.
"What?"
Sherlock ignored Lestrade's outcry. "Precisely, John. Neither of us would have attempted such a thing with only Rohypnol in our system. This implies more than a few pints of alcohol were had."
"Would you mind filling me in here? A lion?"
"Yes. You haven't seen the CCTV footage yet?" Sherlock frowned, quickly turning to look at Lestrade. "I had Mycroft send it here."
"What CCTV footage?" Lestrade continued in his confusion.
"From the zoo," said John.
"Zoo? What are you talking about? Sherlock?"
But something else had captured the consulting detective's attention over Lestrade's shoulder. "I think I know what's happened." His voice had a slightly annoyed tone to it.
John and Lestrade turned and followed Sherlock's gaze. Sergeant Sally Donovan and Forensic Specialist Anderson were watching something on Donovan's computer screen. From the way their shoulder were shaking, they were clearly amused by what they were seeing.
"Donovan! Anderson!" Lestrade's voice was loud enough to reach them clearly. The pair stiffened and slowly turned. "Here. Now. And bring that video footage with you."
"Have a good night last night, Freak?" Donovan drawled as she and Anderson entered Lestrade's office a minute later. John felt the usual anger rise up in him at Donovan's name for Sherlock. Curling one hand into a fist, he controlled his anger. The fact that Sherlock never seemed to mind didn't help in that either.
"I've had better," Sherlock replied calmly. "I presume you and Anderson had a good night also. Just because you now wear different deodorants, doesn't mean it's not obvious. Oh and how are things with your wife, Anderson?"
Anderson's face screwed up in an unattractive scowl and Donovan bristled. "So, you saw us leave together from the pub last night. Well done," she said, harshly sarcastic. "Your powers of observation amaze me."
"You were drugged. How can you remember seeing us leave together?" Anderson said.
"How'd you know they were drugged?" Lestrade frowned.
Anderson rolled his eyes. "Just because the psychopath thinks I'm an incompetent fool."
"Not thinks. Knows." Sherlock said.
"Whatever you all think, I'm still a forensic specialist," Anderson continued, disgusted. "I've seen the footage from the zoo. I know drugged and intoxicated when I see it."
"The footage then," Lestrade held out a hand and Donovan gave him the tape. "Thank you."
"Enjoy the show," Donovan said in droll boredom.
"You two can go now," Lestrade told them with a wave of his hand and Sherlock shot them both a satisfied grin, knowing it would annoy them both.
As the door shut behind them, Lestrade apologised to John and Sherlock. "If I had known..."
"Just play the tape," Sherlock waved the apology away and with a slight sense of foreboding, Lestrade hit 'play'.
