Sherlock: Chasing the Dragon
Chapter Nine, Scene of the Crime
"My God, Lestrade, your men have trampled this scene like a herd of water buffalo." Sherlock growled.
"It's an indoor crime scene, Sherlock." Lestrade pointed out.
"So?"
"So what's to trample?"
"The carpet of course. Valuable evidence can be found in the way the carpet lays, but that's all gone now."
"Will you have a look around anyway?"
Sherlock pondered the question in his mind for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and getting to work. John looked around casually as Sherlock combed the scene. They were in a luxury penthouse flat of one of the tallest buildings on the Isle of Dogs. The floor to ceiling glass walls gave a breathtaking view of London. Lestrade stepped up next to John.
"How did you get him here?" Lestrade asked.
"By agreeing to participate in some less than legal activity later."
"Do I want to know?"
"Probably not."
"Fair enough." Lestrade nodded.
"John, come!" Sherlock barked from the next room.
John sighed and shook his head sadly.
"He treats you like a dog, you know that right?" Lestrade asked seriously.
"I know." John admitted.
"Why do you put up with it?"
"I don't know. I guess it beats the alternative."
"What's the alternative?"
John didn't have an answer for Lestrade, at least not one that he was willing to admit to out loud. In the time between coming home from the war and meeting Sherlock John's only true friend had been his gun. He had the weapon with him now, but he no longer had any intentions of using it on himself. Despite no longer having as strong an attachment to the weapon as he once did John was still grateful that Sherlock had retrieved it from the guard at the drug den.
"John!" Sherlock called again.
Lestrade looked a little annoyed at John for following Sherlock's rude demand. Ignoring the Inspector John walked towards the bedroom. As he came to the doorway he slammed into Sherlock who was coming the other way. Knocked back a step John took a breath to apologize but Sherlock wasn't interested he just made his way around John and rushed over to the large kitchen.
When John turned around Lestrade was looking at him with pity. Increasingly frustrated John grit his teeth and followed Sherlock into the kitchen. Sherlock was rooting through the fridge, throwing the contents onto the floor.
"Sherlock, this is no time for a sandwich."
"I'm not looking for food."
"What are you looking for?"
"It is the fact that I'm not finding what I'm looking for that's important." Sherlock replied as he closed the fridge. "There's no crime here. Can we go?"
"What do you mean no crime?"
"St. Clair left in a hurry, but he left on his own accord. Can we go now?"
"What's all this about no crime?" Lestrade asked as he joined them in the kitchen.
For an answer Sherlock tossed a tiny glass bottle to Lestrade. When Lestrade held up the empty vile John had a chance to read the label.
"Insulin." John read out loud. "So St. Clair was diabetic."
"What does that have to do with him not having been kidnapped?" Lestrade asked.
"I found that in the bathroom trash. There are no needles, at least no unused ones." Sherlock explained. "His medicine cabinet is empty and there are no extra vials of insulin in the fridge. He took all his insulin supplies with him."
"The kidnappers could have done that."
"Unlikely. How long has he been missing?"
"Hard to pin point an exact time, but it did take three days for the studio to report him missing."
"And no ransom demands?"
"Not yet."
"If they took the insulin to keep him alive you would have demands by now, if they were going to murder him they wouldn't have bothered taking the insulin." Sherlock said to Lestrade before turning to John. "Can we go now?"
"What has gotten you in such a hurry to leave?" Lestrade demanded. "Don't you have any theories or ideas on where St. Clair went?"
"Who cares?"
"I care." Lestrade growled.
"You only care because he's famous." Sherlock pointed out. "If he was just some ordinary guy no one would care that he abandoned his job and skipped town. I don't care for actors and therefore I don't care where he went. There is no crime here, go find something to do with your time other than making the press happy."
"Sher..." Lestrade started as his face turned red with anger.
"John, please, can we go now?" Sherlock practically begged.
"Get out!" Lestrade barked.
"Thank you." Sherlock said seriously. "Next time you ask for my help, please make sure there is a crime first."
Lestrade made an aggressive move towards Sherlock. John hurried to step in between the two men. He had seen Sherlock bring his shoulders back slightly when Lestrade had stepped closer which was a sign that Sherlock was prepared to defend himself. The last thing John needed right now was a physical altercation between Sherlock and the Detective Inspector. Sherlock would win the physical fight in seconds, but Lestrade would have him behind bars in minutes for the insult.
"You have the patients of a Saint, Dr. Watson." Lestrade remarked as he backed down.
"I know." John agreed.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and made a noise of frustration. John knew there was no sense in keeping Sherlock here any longer. He'd already lost interest in the case and any moment he was going to turn his boredom into destructive behaviour. It was one thing when he was tearing apart the Baker street flat, it was another thing entirely to destroy a well known actor's penthouse.
"Let's go."
Sherlock brightened instantly and headed for the private elevator that had brought them up here. Before John could follow Lestrade stopped him. With his hand on John's shoulder he leaned in close to his ear.
"What's wrong with him?" Lestrade whispered.
"Your guess is as good as mine." John shrugged.
"I mean what's wrong with him today. He seems particularly..." Lestrade paused as he searched for the word "distracted today."
"He has an unsolved case."
"Yeah you said, identifying some John Doe. He's had unsolved cases before. Why should a case like that matter so much to him?"
"Sherlock's taking this one personally."
"Why?"
"Because someone insulted his intelligence over it."
"I wonder if I could buy that person a drink." Lestrade smiled.
"He's a lawyer."
"Oh, never mind. I hate lawyers."
"John!" Sherlock called from the elevator. "John, we have to go! We have to go now!"
Lestrade chuckled at John and wished him luck. John went over to where Sherlock was holding the elevator door open. When John stepped onto the elevator Sherlock started pacing around like a caged tiger. He had his mobile in his hand and was staring at the screen intently.
"Sherlock, you have got to learn a little pa..."
"There's been another one." Sherlock interrupted with true excitement.
"Another what?"
"Rat attack."
Sherlock showed the mobile screen to John. The tiny picture of the mutilated corpse on the metal table was not as shocking as when he'd seen it in person. Like the other one this victim was missing most of his face, as well as a good part of his abdomen. He was more muscular and younger than the other man, but he also had tattoos covering his chest and arms.
"Molly just texted this to me."
"Who is it?"
"John Doe #458-29."
