Author's note: So I tried to be reasonable and not write a cliffhanger... and what happens as soon as I do? I get more followers and more reviews! Sometimes, life is strange... but wonderful.
I planned this to be about Sherlock's and Lestrade's relationship, and suddenly it turned all thrillery... Oh, well, I am going to try to write this chapter better.
I don't own anything, please review.
„Mr. Spawling" Sherlock answered, finding it surprisingly difficult to keep his calm, „you are aware that you are accusing DI Lestrade of – "
"Im'prisonin' the wrong man?" Dawling lulled. "You can bet I'm awar' of it. Why doya think I was fired?"
"Because you are an alcoholic?" John threw in, and Sherlock could tell that his blogger had difficulties to keep his temper, predictably enough. While his blogger had a problem with alcoholics for obvious reason, having them tell him that one of his friends had done something illegal was not the best way to start a conversation.
Dawling, however, didn't seem concerned about John's anger, and simply answered, "Tha's right. Haven' been anythin' else for years. But I know wha' I saw, all the same. An' the keys weren' there the day befor', and then he call' me. Tol' me we had overlook'd the evidence. But we didn'. I have proof".
And he sauntered away, his speed belying his age and condition. As they heard him stumble up the stairs, John asked, "You don't believe him, surely?"
"No" Sherlock answered, "of course not. But – "
"We need to investigate, I know" John sighed, and Sherlock realized once again that he should have reacted differently – that was to say, more human – in a situation.
"That doesn't mean I don't trust Greg" he tried because it was true. He trusted his DI, but nonetheless, he had to entertain all possibilities. This was just how he worked; how he thought. Not many people understood it.
Thankfully John did.
The doctor took a deep breath and looked at Sherlock. "Of course you do. I'm sorry, I – "
"There's no need" Sherlock answered, and there wasn't. He knew about Harry; he knew how John responded to addiction, just like John knew how he worked on cases. They understood one another, and that was that.
John gave him a grateful smile, and neither of them said anything else until they heard Dawling come down the stairs.
He grinned triumphantly as he handed Sherlock a – folder?
"Did you steal police files?" the consulting detective asked, baffled; surely not even Dawling would fail to realize that it was not a good idea to show them stolen property?
"No, I didn'. I made copies. An' Lestrade didn' seem to wan' anyone to look to closely anyway".
Ignoring the obvious implications of that statement, Sherlock flipped the folder open and saw immediately what Timothy Spawling must have meant. The former forensic tech pointed it out anyway.
"See? That's fro' the day they foun' the bodies... and that's a day later".
Sherlock saw what the man wanted to show him; two pictures, obviously of the same piece of the carpet at the third crime scene... On the first, it was empty. The second picture showed the keys.
Dawling grinned once again. "See? On' the secon' day he call' me and say we overlook' something'... so I came an' he show me the keys. Don' tell me that's just coincidence".
"Even if I should believe you" Sherlock said, "which I don't – why didn't you report it?"
"Becaus' I was fired after the case" he answered. "Didn't take a genius to figure out who was behin' it".
Sherlock looked at John, who was apparently struggling to keep his composure – both because of his friend and his sister – and decided it was time to bring this interview to an end.
"May I keep these?" he asked, already putting the file into his coat.
Dawling nodded before answering happily, "Jus' make sure he fries".
When the door closed behind them, both Sherlock and John sighed with relief.
"What now?" the doctor inquired, looking at his friend, who was absent-mindedly patting the pocket he had put the file in.
Sherlock, uncharacteristically, shrugged and answered, "I don't know. Let's return to St. Bart's and wait for further developments."
John, translating this to "I need time to think about what just happened", agreed and they caught a cab.
As soon as they had arrived at the hospital – John had kept quiet during the night, knowing that Sherlock was most likely categorizing all the information they had got – they came across Mike Stamford, who was obviously going to get his third coffee of the day.
"John, why don't you accompany Mike?" Sherlock suggested. "I am going to look for Greg in the meantime".
John shot him an inquisitive look before sighing internally. He should have known. Of course Sherlock would want to speak to Greg alone at first; the Di had been the first to allow Sherlock on crime scenes, the first to believe in him, the first to watch over him on danger nights, the first – the first friend Sherlock had ever had (not counting Mrs. Hudson, but John could reasonably argue that she was more of a motherly influence).
It only made sense that Sherlock would want to talk to the DI without witnesses. And yet, John was worried. The consulting detective obviously didn't know what to think – not because he didn't trust Greg, but because Spawling had given them a lead that needed to be followed – and the doctor didn't want the friendship between him and Greg to be hurt in the process. Although the DI knew Sherlock and would probably be able to see why he even asked him.
In the end, he could only agree.
So John nodded and followed Mike, who, as was his custom, naturally knew all about what was happening. Especially since he was rather friendly with Molly, and the pathologist always felt better after getting things off of her chest – which was why keeping Sherlock's trick a secret had been such a burden to her in the first place.
That said, the teacher never talked about the things he heard with other people than the ones he knew would be touched by it.
Also, knowing John, he didn't spend too long trying to find a way to bring the subject up; he simply asked, "Is Sherlock alright?"
To which John replied "He will be", although without much conviction.
Sherlock entered Scotland Yard with a feeling a foreboding. Greg would discredit Spawling's accusation, without a doubt; and yet – the consulting detective knew that most people wouldn't understand his need to follow up this lead, would mistake it as mistrust. This wasn't true, however. He trusted the DI; trusted Greg. And he was quite sure he would understand him, would comprehend why he had to ask the question.
Sherlock had never suppressed a question, or a piece of evidence. He had to solve the case – it was in his very blood – and, once he had started, he couldn't let go. He suspected that it was the same for Greg, in a way, that it was this strange kinship that had made the DI trust him in the first place.
As he made his way to Greg's office, he couldn't help but notice that the whole Yard was already buzzing with rumours. Naturally – the DI's questions couldn't have gone unnoticed.
He walked to the office without paying attention to anyone – which was a good idea, since they definitely paid too much attention to him – and entered without knocking.
Greg looked up, rather defeated.
"And, did you find out something? Because I have been hitting dead ends... No one remembers who found the keys, and –"
"Greg" Sherlock interrupted, eager to get this over with. "Spawling claims you showed him the keys. He thinks you were the one to put them there."
The DI looked at Sherlock for a second before he answered, "I told you. I can't remember who found them. It might have been me who found them."
"And?" Sherlock prompted.
Only to realize he had once again said the wrong thing.
Greg suddenly looked rather angry and demanded, "Do you really think I would do something like that, Sherlock?"
"No" the consulting detective answered, feeling rather lost and wishing he had taken John with him, "of course not".
But it sounded weak even to his ears.
"So you... so you come into my office and accuse me of – " the DI started pacing up and down, rubbing a hand over his face.
"I wasn't accusing you, I was merely asking – " Sherlock tried to reason with him.
"As if the question itself wasn't an accusation." Sherlock was silent. Greg added, "So you believe me capable of sending an innocent man to jail for a promotion – "
"I never said that".
"Of course you didn't, freak". Greg hadn't meant to say it; it had simply slipped out. Worse than that, it had sounded like – he had pronounced it like a Sergeant they both knew rather well, and –
Sherlock didn't react, or at least, he didn't betray any emotion. He simply turned around and left the office, the DI staring after him, unable to do anything.
Author's note: I know, I know, but somehow, I felt like this would be the appropriate reactions. Sherlock trying to solve the case, and Greg, while understanding why, still being hurt he even considered the possibility. Or maybe I'm just crazy.
Alas, my friends, no time. Therefore, later and shorter update.
I hope you liked it, please review.
