I cannot express how sorry I am about the delay. It seemed that one thing happened after another. Many thanks to 'a wolf is a perfect paradox' - what a trooper!
Walk with a purpose, and no one thinks twice.
Walk with head held high, and no one takes notice.
Walk with confidence, and no one would think you did not belong.
At least that's what she told herself though she was barely able to hold it together.
That is often true and was the case for the woman who walked into New Scotland Yard. There was a stiffness to her walk but her head was held high so no one took notice. Not the guy at the reception, not the crime scene techs as they shared a joke, not the beat cop arriving with fresh donuts and coffee to enjoy as they faced the mundane task of writing up reports.
She walked to Lestrade's office without hesitation. The Detective Inspector was there discussing the possible steps to be taken involving a case with Isabelle over coffee. He was surprised by the woman's presence in his office and noticed how disheveled she looked even with her hair covering most of her face.
"Can I help you?" Lestrade asked as he stood up. Concern immediately etched over his faces as he regarded the woman in front of him. At the same time he could not wonder if she was a threat, someone sent to do him and his Sergeant harm.
The girl nodded. The action took great effort for her and it was when her head straighten some hair fell to the side revealing blood.
"Would you like a seat?" Isabelle asked cautiously also standing. She did not see the blood, but it was not difficult for her to perceive how the woman did not look well. This was confirmed when the woman collapsed to the ground.
Lestrade and Isabelle rushed to her. Isabelle took off her jacket quickly and gave it to Lestrade who folded it over to prop the woman's head.
"Call an ambulance." Lestrade ordered. Isabelle was already on the phone.
-MHSHEH-
"So you're telling me that this woman was able to waltz right into the station and no one stopped her?" Lucas was talking with an irritated calm over the phone to the front desk. Lestrade sat in front of his chief's desk trying to understand what had just happened.
While waiting for the medics to appear the woman kept trying to say something to him. But her voice was too soft to make out anything definitive. The only thing that Lestrade was completely certain about was that she was afraid, very afraid.
Isabelle went out briefly to find a first aid kit and while she was gone the woman pressed something into Lestrade's hand. He was so focused on keeping the woman calm that he did not look at the object until after she was in the hands of the medics.
It was a USB drive and it was now sitting on the edge of Lucas' desk.
"You have blood on your shirt." Lucas remarked after hanging up. He was right of course; most of, if not all, of the blotches were vaguely hand shaped from where Lestrade's shirt was grabbed. He grimaced looking at it. Each pattern echo the fear that blazed in her eyes.
"I have a spare in my office." Lestrade said. It was a preemptive measure against coffee spills, and it was a practice that had served him well over the years.
"Alright then, do you recognize this woman?" The Chief Superintendent began his line of questioning.
"To be honest I did not get a good look at her face and I was more concern about her possibly dying." Lestrade sighed.
"And this?" He pointed to the USB drive. "Any idea why she would give it to you?"
"It must be important to someone for that girl to end up like that." Lestrade looked up to Lucas who was considering his words. "As to what's on it – I do not know."
"Right," Lucas leaned back in his chair and raked his hand over his face as he thought. "Who do you trust in the IT department?"
"If we're looking for something to get data off that drive, Isabelle Bordeaux is rather handy with computers." Lestrade offered.
"Then this," Lucas motioned to the USB drive. " Stays between the three of us until we learn the significance of it."
"Yes sir." The detective nodded allowing his gaze to drift to the drive sitting so innocently on the desk. Looking at the dried blood flakes on the drive Lestrade would not help but feel, as often had on this case, that he was opening Pandora's box.
-MHSHEH-
"You are gravely mistaken." Sherlock repeated as he glared at Tekla. But his protestations fell on deaf ears as she smiled sweetly to him.
"No we're not." Hatch smirked as he pulled out his phone to take a picture. As he aimed Sherlock turned his attentions to him. Hatch only shrugged. "Worth a thousand words." He added as way of explanation before snapping the button.
John had seen and experienced many things in the company of Sherlock. But what he was currently viewing in the middle of the den John never expected.
Sherlock holding a baby.
John definitely wanted copy of that picture. Possibly life size that he could threaten to email to all of Scotland Yard the next time Sherlock refused to behave.
"So what's he's name?" John asked. He had come unexpectedly on their gathering; he had left his phone charger at Baker Street and the unexpected sounds of a baby grabbed onto his curiosity. He and Sherlock had come to an uneasy, unspoken truce shortly after his lunch with the Hatchersons. They agreed to wait to after the case to deal with the bad air between them.
He still had misgivings about this strange group of people declaring themselves Sherlock's friends; mostly because he could not get a straight answer from any of them. The lunch he had with the Hatchersons was both enlightening and not. They kept everything vague like their occupation, where they lived, and even how they met Sherlock.
The only thing that they revealed with any certainty was the fact that they all cared deeply for Sherlock despite all their insistent teasing. That alleviated some of John's concerns, but not that much.
"Kilian Nicolas." Tekla said proudly.
"Interesting choice." Sherlock muttered. He kept his eyes on the child as though if he looked away Kilian might try something or it could be that Sherlock was afraid that he might drop him. It was a tossup really.
"It seemed fitting and it was the only name Tekla and I could agree on." Hatch took another pick since Sherlock was not longer sneering at him. "I think it's safe to say that Killian likes his Uncle Sherlock."
"I am not – "
"Yes you are." The Hatchersons cut off Sherlock's protestations. They said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
John laughed. "Could I get a copy of that?" He pointed towards Hatch's phone.
"Done and done." Hatch grinned.
"Just please don't put it on your blog." Tekla requested as she relieved Sherlock of her son. "I don't want people to get the wrong idea."
"Of course." John nodded.
When John first met Hatch and Tekla, the thought of them as parents was the last description he would use for them.
The Hatchersons were an odd couple, which could be said for many people these days, but nevertheless they were.
Hatch worked with computers, from designing computers to developing software; basically anything with a processor he worked with in some fashion. He took great pride and comfort in being described as a geek. John discovered that movie quotes were part of Hatch's day to day conversation. Unfortunately for John, most of the movies that Hatch quoted were ones that John had never seen or heard. That resulted in John being threatened with several movie nights by Hatch to remedy that slight handicap.
Despite his goofy demeanor Hatch truly was brilliant when it came to computers and code writing. His expertise in the field assisted Sherlock in cracking several cyberheist by Moriarty's organization.
Tekla was the opposite of her husband; she once joked that the only way she knew how to fix computers was to turn them off then on. As Sherlock explained before, she worked as an independent art appraiser, who contracted herself to different auction houses and to estate sales mostly in the States but recently branching out to Europe. She had an eye for catching a good forgery which benefited Sherlock in his chase. After having met Tekla a few more times the best way John could describe her was flirt with all the smiles, winks and laughs that went with it.
John thought the last bit would be a bit much for Hatch, after all, she did intensely kiss Sherlock at a crime scene. But Hatch only laughed and said that Tekla's flirting served to amuse, bemuse and confuse. A statement that only left John more confused. But that had been nothing out of the ordinary lately he had to admit.
When asked how they met they both smirked and said 'work'; which only served to confuse John since their occupations were so different.
John had also met Carleton a few more times; found out that the man had been once enlisted in the American army before retiring and working in some form of private security. When asked about it Carleton would shrug and say that he was very good at getting things people wanted. Currently most of his jobs came courtesy of the Lehrers. John wondered how and why two university professors would need private security. It seemed rather odd, until Carleton pointed out that Wilhelm had put away many bad people in his time with the FBI.
Carleton was surprisingly well read and could hold a strong conversation with anyone about anything; with Tekla it was art, with Hatch it was comics, and one time John walked in on Carleton talking to Sherlock about the effects of a chemical compound on human tissue. Like the Hatchersons, he was very vague but also considered Sherlock a good friend of his.
Hatch and Tekla as parents was difficult to perceive until you saw them with their son. They had an affectionate attention to the boy that was not nauseating to watch or done out of obligation. It was the most genuine behavior displayed by them that could not be faked.
Kilian was a quite child, spending most of his time looking around at his surroundings and only became fussy when trying to find something new to examine. He often gave a toothless grin and snuggled close to whoever was holding him, even Sherlock.
"So, now that most of the prime suspects are in one city we need to have dinner together." Hatch announced looking at Sherlock. "You can't say any excuse that will convince us to let you out of it."
"The invite includes you John." Tekla smiled at him.
John gaped at her a moment before responding. "Sure – if I'm not intruding – "
"Absolutely not!" Tekla would not hear any protest. "We've wanted to do dinner with you guys since we've gotten to London. Just let us know whenever you two aren't busy."
"Whatever's good for you." Hatch added before stepping over to his wife. He smiled at Kilian before lightly touching his son's nose adding a popping sound when he did. Kilian squealed at the act and waved his hands trying to grab Hatch's finger. "We're very flexible."
"Same with Carleton?" John asked. He remembered them all remarking how Carleton would disappear for a few days on a job them show up again without a word to anyone about what he had done or seen. But he consistently would be there for you to assist in anything without the need of asking him.
"Carleton pops in and out like Stromcrow." Hatch explained earning a smirk from Tekla.
"Nice obscure literary reference." Tekla laughed.
"I do my best." He return the smile.
"You succeed." A twinkle entered Tekla's eyes and her smile morphed into a mischievous one.
"Just for you." Hatch smirked turned just as mischievous.
"Please stop." Sherlock deadpanned.
"Only for you Sweetie." Tekla winked at Sherlock and handed Kilian to Hatch. "We should get going; we have that thing at the thingamabob."
"Wasn't it that thingamajig that deals with that whatchamacallit?" Hatch asked looking at Tekla.
"Actually, it's the whatsis with the doodad."
"Oh, with the gismo."
"Really?" Sherlock could only shake his head in disbelief.
John was holding back a laugh; if it wasn't for the secrets John decided that he would very much like the Hatchersons.
-MHSHEH-
Isabelle growled at the computer.
She had carefully cleaned any remnants of dried blood from the drive before inserting it into the computer. What popped up on her screen confirmed her suspicions – the drive was encrypted. Armed with cups of bad coffee, and a stubborn streak she went to work.
Heaven help the poor soul who decided to approach her over the next two hours.
Taking a deep breath, Isabelle continued to glare at her computer. It was a tricky encryption, but fortunately at the end of the two hours she figured out the code. She now had the key, all she had to do was unlock it.
The reason for her less then sunny disposition was that it should not have taken as long as it did for to figure out the encryption. She rested her head in the heel of her hand and glanced over to where she kept pictures on her desk. One was of her parents, taken just before her father was killed; they smiled at the camera unaware of the upcoming tragedy. Another was of her younger sister, Marguerite; all smiles and twinkle in her eye. Marguerite, or Margot as her family called her, was still in school studying history. Both girls were very close growing up and still were very close. Because of both girl's schedules they struggled to spend a good amount of time together, but somehow they managed.
Next to the picture of Margot was one of her boyfriend, the one who moved to New York to go to school. He had decided to go back to school after finally figuring out what he wanted to do. Isabelle was a bit surprised to hear that he wanted to go into film with the intention of direction. What really shocked her was he wanted to travel all the way to America for school. They had argued about his decision to go there; she had pushed for him to stay and he was set in his decision to go.
It's not that she did not want him to go to school, but to go to a school so far away was what worried her. The distance and the time difference was putting a lot of pressure on their relationship.
And Isabelle was tired of it.
The increased pressure of her current case was not helping the relationship either. But figuring out the encryption code did make her feel a bit better. A small win, but one nonetheless.
Hopefully she would have something for Lestrade when he came back from checking out a lead. Looking at her mug, she decided against coffee and opted for one of the bottle waters in her desk. Sighing she went to work.
An hour later Lestrade did return finding out very little on his venture other than he was beginning to feel the strain of the job on his body. First thing he noticed was Isabelle looking thoughtfully at her computer. He caught her eye and she motioned to his office.
"Any news on the girl?" Isabelle asked as she followed him.
"Stable, but unconscious." Lestrade sat at his desk. "It's a bit touch and go right now.
"Hope she pulls though." She said to no one in particular.
"What have you found?" He asked as soon as she closed the door.
"A series of video recordings." She explained walking to his desk. She held up a USB drive; it was a different one. "I made a copy here and on some CDs; the original's in a safe, secure place. I haven't watched any of the videos."
Lestrade motioned for her to give him the drive. She tossed it to him before making her way around the desk to stand next to him. He plugged in the drive. When the dialogue box came up he clicked on the first video file.
A young man appeared on the screen; it was difficult to say if he was attractive or not due to his face being bloodied and disheveled. It was obvious that the man had seen better days and that his current state was done over the course of several days. The thing that really caught Isabelle's attention was the man was utterly frightened.
The man had his focus on whoever was behind the camera. Sure enough a second person appeared on the screen, but with the way the camera was angled it only allowed the shoulders down to be visible. By the build, the stranger was a man, tall and muscular. He wore a black apron over his clothes and thick rubber gloves that reached passed his elbows. There was a soft muffled thud with each step the man took as he circled around the bounded man.
"Name?" The second man asked. His voice sound like it was coming through a broken speaker.
"Jack?" The answer was shaky and uncertain. He eyed his captor with caution and fear as the man continued to circle him until he was behind the chair.
From a pocket of the apron the strange man pulled out a cut throat razor. There was a eerie flash of light as it reflected off the blade as it was folded out just behind Jack's head. The aproned man quickly administered cuts up Jack's upper arm and red spread over the dirty shirt. Jack's breathing quicken in the shock of the new injury, a look of pain etched over his face.
"I didn't ask for nicknames." The man walked from behind Jack sounding disappointed. He stood in front of Jack, blocking him from the view of the camera. An arm was quickly brought up and brought down just as fast.
Isabelle looked away despite nothing to be seen. The sound of wet gurgling rang out in her ears. Lestrade lowered the screen of his laptop as the man moved away in case Isabelle turned back. It was one thing to see a dead body, but was completely different to see a newly dead person as life cooled from the body. But witnessing a crime as it happen knowing full well that there is nothing you can do rakes against a cop's nature.
"I think it's safe to assume," Lestrade began after he found his voice. "Based on the state of the victim in the video, that this USB drive and the yet to be identified girl in the hospital maybe related to our current case. I want plainclothes cops around her room in case another attempt is made her life. And call Sherlock."
"I'll update him on everything." She moved towards the door. It had not escaped her notice that Lestrade moved the screen to keep her from seeing the end results. For that she was grateful.
"Wait," Lestrade said just as she reached the door. She turned back, surprised written all over her face. "Tell Sherlock everything except about this USB drive."
"Why?"
"I want to be able to view everything of what is on this before Sherlock does." He sighed.
"OK." Isabelle was still uncertain. "I don't understand, but I'll refrain from telling him. But won't he get mad?"
"It's not like he ever withheld evidence." Lestrade mumbled as he went searching through his desk looking for ear-buds to listen to the rest of the videos without the chance of being over heard.
Isabelle nodded and closed the door behind her.
"I hate this case." She said to herself as she dialed on her phone.
A/N: Just to let the few readers out there that this story will never be abandoned. It will be finished!