Hello everyone! I'm so, so, so, so sorry about the lateness of this update. I just moved into college and am still settling in. But I tried to make time to finish the chapter before my classes would start! Hope you enjoy! :)
Chapter Ten: Percy Armitage and Dead Ends
"Mr. Armitage, we have spoken over the phone." I start to him, bowing my head slightly at Percy Armitage, Julia Stoner's fiancé. He isn't what I have expected. Julia is… well, was, a beautiful woman and she could have done better than this man. Percy has dark brown hair, untidy and sticking up. It looks like he has just rolled out of bed. He also is a little beardy, but the length of it isn't long. He isn't completely ugly; he does have a nice pair of brown eyes hidden behind his glasses. Maybe that is what attracted Julia to her fiancé. "I'm Detective Meredith Wilder and this is my colleague," I look over to where I think Sherlock is, "Sherlock…"
"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock says, coming to the other side of me. Percy actually goes to shake Sherlock's hand, but drops it, realizing that Sherlock isn't likely to shake it.
"Are you an offi—?" Percy begins to say, only to be cut off.
Sherlock interrupts him, "I am a consulting detective." I shoot him a look before looking back at Percy. Why did I agree with going with him? Already I want to grab a gun to shot him with. He said that with such an arrogant tone.
"What's that?"
Before Sherlock can even answer, I do so we can get this over with. "Someone we use to assist us on cases such as this one. Now, Mr. Arm—."
"On the phone, I've been told that this was an accident." Percy says, interrupting me before I can explain to him why we are here. I glance over at Sherlock who is peering down at the sitting down Percy, who is now slouching in our presence. Just by the way Sherlock's eyes seemed to have brightened, I can tell that he noted something about Percy. He doesn't voice it though. "Why are the police investigating an allergic reaction?"
Sherlock takes the pleasure in answering the question, "We have reason to think that this is not an allergic reaction. She didn't have any known reactions to any allergies according to her family and an unknown poison somehow made it into her bloodstream."
Percy questions immediately, his face contorting with confusion, "Poison?"
"Yes, poison and besides the snake bite on her ankle, there are no other ways the poison couldn't have gone through her unless it was an indirect way."
"Snake? Julia wouldn't have stepped inside the same room with a snake," Percy says to us slowly. His eyes go from Sherlock and I. I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at Percy. I expected Sherlock to interject, and I think Percy does too because of his long pause, but he doesn't. I glance over at Sherlock, whose blue-green eyes are momentarily scanning the man's flat, taking in what he can. I am wondering if he is even listening to him. "She always makes… made," he corrects himself, "me hide them whenever she came, they always bother her, you see. She thinks they are the grossest things next to spiders."
"You keep snakes?" I ask him with my eyebrow raised.
"Of course, he does. Look at him, look at this flat," Sherlock starts to me, completely ignoring the bewildered look coming on his face. I glance over at him as Sherlock begins to talk as if Percy is no longer sitting with us. Sherlock begins making deductions to me, "It smells like he keeps some sort of animals in here and it also smells of the food he must keep for them," he sniffs the air again before walking away from us to explain his observations, "Besides that, he keeps a lot science fiction lying about, magazines and movies. He even has a poster of Star Trek hanging in his bedroom."
"How'd you—?"
"Simple, your door is opened. It isn't exactly hard to glance in there and see a part of that poster on the wall." Sherlock states easily, cutting him off as he turns away from the both of us. "I'm assuming that you keep the snakes in your bedroom, too, correct?" Without an answer, he goes off to check if he is right. I try not to look at Percy or in the direction Sherlock has gone for that matter. I honestly am surprised that a man who doesn't know that the Earth goes around the sun knows what Star Trek actually is.
I barely know what to do, but what I think I am supposed to do is look over at Percy and apologize for this. Percy almost looks like a gaping codfish. "I'm sorry about him, he's usually like that."
"He works with you guys?" Percy asks me, his eyes back and forth from where Sherlock has went to where I am. I nod my head slowly, "And he has figured out I have snakes just by looking around the flat?"
I explain to Percy rather slowly as I take a seat on top of the chair. "He is… very observant and he is really good at what he does." I almost cringe admitting it to the man, but it's true. What Sherlock does is bloody brilliant, and I am happy that he isn't around to hear it. Sherlock's head inflates when someone gives him praise. "Now, Mr. Armitage, I am deeply sorry for your fiancé's death and we will do whatever we can to get to the bottom of it."
Unlike his used-to-be-father-in-law, he nods his head graciously. "We would though like if you would answer a few of our questions, if that's all right."
"It's—it is all right."
"Okay, perfect," I give him a slight thumbs up before I go ahead to ask, "The night Julia died, where were you?"
"I have given my statement to the police, detective." He tells me. I don't change the question. I just want to see if he keeps up with the same story. Sometimes, and there is a small chance that this would happen, people would try to change their alibi without even realizing it. I've learned this on my second case with Carter. The suspect has given us his alibi that almost seemed strong, but when I asked it again, some details were changed like the time he had left the bar, who he was with at the bar, the drinks he bought, small details.
Percy takes a deep sigh, realizing that this subject will most likely not be changed. He says the alibi to me again, "Julia and I have gotten into a fight about the wedding, she got so stressed easily about it. We had plans together that night, and, well… obviously that got cancelled. And I went with the guys to the pub by King's Cross… St. Chad's Place." I love that place. It is actually where I met… never mind. I tilt my head up, acknowledging what he said. It seems like it matched with the statement he gave.
"Anyone can confirm that? One of the guys or a bartender?"
"I went with one of my mates, who is out of the city as of now. I'll write down the other mate's number for you before you leave." Percy tells me. I like this full cooperation thing, it is refreshing… sort of. "And the bartender that was working that night's name is Megan… I believe. I remember her having brown hair, if that helps."
"It does, thank you, Mr. Armitage." I say to him nodding my head. "You're cooperating splendidly."
"Do you think that one of your snakes might have found themselves in your fiancé's room?" Sherlock inquires to Percy as he walks back into the sitting room. I glance over at him to see that he has rubber gloves on instead of his usual leather ones. He must have snuck a pair in his pocket. But what was he touching in there?
"That's impossible," Percy tells him immediately. The small, sad smile on his face disappears and I try not to look at Sherlock. "I told you, she wouldn't step within ten inches of one. She bloody hell wouldn't let me bring one to her house."
"Well, you do keep snakes that aren't exactly found in a garden. You have a poisonous snake in your bedroom." Sherlock states simply to him and I awkwardly rub my chin. Besides his alibi, this doesn't look too good for Percy.
"So, what are you implying, Mr. Holmes?" Percy nearly shouts, sounding offended. It is almost like he is like me. We can both hear the assumption or the deduction Sherlock has gathered. This could go in one of two ways, and I'm debating to just grab Sherlock by the hand to get out of this flat. We know all we need to know.
Sherlock doesn't skip a beat in answering that. He gets a strange smirk on his face before pulling the rubber gloves off of his hands. I think that is my cue to pull him out of here, but I don't, I almost don't want to at all. Is this how John feels with Sherlock while out on cases? I have worked with him extensively before, but never have I brought him to a suspect's house to ask questions. Once I begin to open my mouth, he shakes his head, pushing his rubber gloves in his long coat's pocket and slipping on his leather ones. "Nothing at all."
"Sherlock—what?" 'Nothing at all?' He merely glances at me, there is an equally strange glimmer in his eyes and it scares the hell out of me. I don't know what is going through that head of his as of the moment. This is the first time he most likely has deduced something and doesn't voice it out loud; at least he doesn't around me.
"I think we know all we need to know here." Sherlock says a moment later. "Meredith?" I open my mouth to still question this before I see Sherlock turn on his heel to actually leave the flat.
"I didn't finish asking my questions yet." I try to tell him, looking behind my shoulder. Sherlock stops in his place before turning his head to look at me. I could see a bored expression already consuming his face. We are both looking at each other, eyes locked, it's almost as if I've caught him in a staring contest. We've only been here for at least three minutes. I am not planning on leaving just yet.
Finally, I hear an exasperated sigh come from him. I turn back to Percy, taking that as a sign that I won. "Do you know anyone that would have murdered your fiancé?" Percy stares at me, I can just tell that it is almost too unbelievable that someone would have murdered her. He shakes his head no to me, honestly. I'm right, or I at least think I am right, when I say that Julia seems like a sweet girl. I hardly doubt that she could do something to someone else that results in murder. But… I also know that someone did.
I swallow before standing up, glancing behind my shoulder to see Sherlock inching toward the door. I hold my hand out for Percy to give it a good shake.
"Pleasure meeting you in person, Mr. Armitage." I tell him, as he reluctantly grips at my hand to shake it. He grips it almost painfully tight for some reason before letting me go. I hear the door open and then I turn on my heel to leave Percy behind. Unlike the last time I went somewhere with Sherlock for a case, he holds out the door for me, waiting for me and looking impatiently down the hall.
He closes the door behind me and once he does, he tells me, "He's involved somehow."
"He has an alibi though." I state to him, now walking. Sherlock doesn't look over at me, not even giving me a glance. I try to say, "I don't think he has motive, to be honest."
"Just because the man has an alibi does not mean that he can't be involved, Meredith." Sherlock states to me, before adding, "And you ask about motive? He has the prime motive; no one has any reason to kill her, but him. They had a row, he said, before he went out, but he still had time to—."
"To plant a snake in her room, yes I know. But all we have connecting him is the snake bites, that isn't enough to arrest him, Sherlock." I interrupt him with that. Though, I have a nagging doubt that Percy is involved somehow. There's more that we are missing.
Sherlock doesn't speak to me after that, his brow furrowing like he is in deep concentration over what I just said. He says after his short pause, "You're right, it just doesn't seem to add up. But I doubt that it is a coincidence that her fiancé owns snakes, one of them being poisonous, when we found poison in her system and snake bites." I nod my head stiffly before stopping in front of an elevator. I pull out my phone and dial the number to her family.
While we discussed what happened in both our separate investigations over lunch, we have all come to the conclusion that something didn't sound right. John stated to us both that no snakes were missing the night before while Sherlock and I, or rather I, told John and Lestrade about the visit to Armitage and her family. Her stepfather was already making arrangements for when we are done with the body, so we really only talked with her sister, Helen. Surprisingly, she was more than willing to help us, explaining Julia's night to both Sherlock and I.
I listened intently to her while Sherlock went to see Julia's pristine room. And then I told Helen that she could always contact me if she needed me and she said she would. The case, though, is going extremely slow. I've been to 221b for the past three days and every time I've been there, it's been the same. Sherlock is almost baffled, he knows that Percy is involved and as I am beginning to think everything through, I begin to believe that Percy is involved. The only link that we all connected with him is the bite marks… and that isn't enough evidence.
Today, I sit there again at 221b, sipping a cup of coffee and watching Sherlock pluck the strings of his violin, which I must have watched dozen times already. My eyes are stuck on his long fingers, making small movements with the strings. His hands remind me of my grandfather handling his old violin. They both handled it with such care, like fragility of the instrument was so sacred to them both. "Explain her day to me again." Sherlock orders of me, taking me out of a stupor that I didn't know I was in until now. I look up at him to see him staring blankly in front of him.
Instead of me answering, John does, coming down from his bedroom upstairs. "Her and her fiancé have a row, crossed she goes drinking with her friends, and then comes homes around 2 in the morning, takes a bath, and goes to bed."
"And at some point in that night, she got herself bitten by a snake, covered with speckles, and dead." I add on, taking yet another sip of my coffee.
John looks at me strangely, sitting down at his desk, with his laptop opened already. "Are you alright, Mere? You sound a bit…"
"Sound a bit what?" I ask him while he takes a short pause. My head practically splits at the sound of my own voice. A splitting headache is always so nice to have in the morning. John raises his brow at my sharp tone, glancing over at the screen of his laptop, before looking back at me. Unfortunately, the coffee isn't helping me with my headache at all.
Before he continues with what he would say, Sherlock cuts through, ignoring our present conversation, "At some point, she was poisoned. It doesn't make sense. What's the fiancé's night?"
"He had a row with Julia, went out to St. Chad's with a few of his mates, then went home. It's also a solid alibi, I checked with his friend and the bartender he described to me." I answer him. John looks between the two of us before his eyes go to Sherlock with his violin.
"That doesn't bother you?" He asks me, almost sounding bewildered by it. Obviously John isn't a fan of Sherlock's violin. He plays the violin while he thinks and Sherlock thinks all night, especially if he is on a case. I shake my head no though, if I lived here though I think I would've been tired of it. I have spent weekends though when my grandfather played at all hours of the night.
"They had the row at 6:00, Percy's flat is at least ten minutes away by cab, he went to the pub at 6:30, that is not enough window to go to his flat, grab a snake, plant it and then go to the pub." Sherlock states, plucking his final string with such irritation. It actually makes me flinch. "He is involved, just not directly."
"You both still think that this is not an accident?" John asks us both, clicking to his blog almost immediately after.
"All the evidence leads to the contrary." Sherlock says shortly, his eyes going to a spot on the floor.
"The only evidence that we have is those snake bites."
"Well, there has to be something else." Sherlock states, rising up from his chair to walk over to the window overlooking Baker Street. It's only silence between all of us; my eyes are glancing back and forth from Sherlock to John. I hold the cup of coffee extremely close to my mouth, allowing the steam to reach my nostrils. I hear mumbles come from Sherlock, incoherent mumbles.
"Are you alright?" John asks me. I look over at him and shrug my shoulders, not in the mood to give a clear answer. John stares at me for a moment, almost like he is considering me, but then instead of responding, my phone rings.
Once I hear my obnoxious Michael Jackson ringtone from my phone, I pick it up quickly. Sherlock doesn't even turn his head at the sound of thriller while John does raise his brow at me. I usually keep my phone on vibrate around other people. "Wilder," I answer curtly, carefully maneuvering my cup of coffee and my phone. I bring my knees to my chest, hold the cup of coffee again with both hands, and tilt my head to balance the phone on top of my shoulder.
"Detective?" I hear a small voice at the end, and I furrow my brow at it. "This is Helen Stoner. You told me that I could give you a ring whenever I needed it."
"Yeah, yeah I did… what's the matter, Ms. Stoner? Everything alright?" The moment I mentioned Stoner, Sherlock turns his head with his eyebrow raised considerably high. His finger is bent at his mouth and his eyes find mine as I look up at him. It is almost like I see the gears in his head already working as I am speaking to her. I try to look away from him, the more I look at him, the more curious I get.
"No, no, everything is not alright." She tells me. Unconsciously, I lick my bottom lip before I bring my coffee slowly to my mouth. "I've been feeling tired a lot lately, really tired, and I don't know, it makes me worried."
"That is perfectly normal during grieving, Helen." I say to her softly to reassure her. Some people have so much grief that it makes them disoriented. There are different ways to get over grief. Some people eat while others sleep, or some people even do some things that they would never think they would do. "It's nothing to be worried about."
"It is not that kind of tired. I have been getting more and more tired for weeks." Helen informs me. My brow creases deeply in concern. Julia died a few days ago, not a few weeks ago. "It's been bothersome, and before Julia… died… she acted the same way."
"What do you mean she felt the same way?" I ask her quickly. I could have sworn that I heard my voice rise in volume just how strange and alarming that sounds. What does she mean that Julia felt the same before she died?
"She complained to me all the time about how tired she is… was." Helen corrects herself, making me almost frown. "I've… I've just never paid mind to it."
"He—." My phone is snatched out from under me. My head goes up in a jolt and I look up to see Sherlock putting it to his ear. My mouth parts and I can feel myself beginning to scowl at him.
"Helen, this is Sherlock." He says while I stare at him in disbelief. Did he really just take the phone out of my hand like it isn't mine? "We're going to need to spend the night in your sister's room to relive her last moments." He walks a little bit away from me. All I hear from my phone is a muffled voice that is pressed against his ear. I narrow my eyes at Sherlock, before prompting myself to get up to get the phone from him. But before she could, Sherlock hangs up the phone and throws it in my general direction. I try not to make a scene and dive for it, so I quickly place my coffee to the side and lean slightly forward in just enough time to actually catch it with one hand.
I put it on top of the armrest. "What the bloody hell was that?"
"Do shut up." Sherlock says to me quickly, before looking at both John and I. John has a bewildered look in his eyes, as if he is questioning Sherlock's behavior just as much as I am. "John, I'm going to need you tonight." He says to him, completely ignoring my existence. John looks up at Sherlock, he has a sort of exasperated look on his face. I honestly don't think it mattered if John tells Sherlock that he is busy or something. Sherlock drags John everywhere even if he does have plans. "You are going to have to spend the night with me in Julia's bedroom so we can relive her night together."
"I'm sorry?" John asks, as if he hasn't heard correctly. I don't think I heard that correctly either. "You and I… spend the night… in the same bedroom?"
"Yes." Sherlock replies, sensing no problem at all with this. I try not to snigger at this.
"Where…" John clears his throat, his voice sounding hoarse. He then gulps before continuing his question, "where are we going… to sleep?"
I joke, "I think Sherlock sleeps on the right side of the bed, he likes to be dominant in a lot of things." John sends a glare in my direction, a glare that probably means 'I'm not gay'. Sherlock doesn't say a word to me however. "Well, am I invited to this slumber party? Or are we just going to forget the working detective on this case?"
Sherlock looks over at me, his head turning sharply in my general direction. I just shrug my shoulders innocently.
I'm not too happy with how I ended this chapter, but I couldn't, well I don't think I could anyway, end it in any other way, you know? It seems fillerish to me. Okay, so I don't know when I will update again, considering classes begin tomorrow. But I will be updating Facebook about the progress of stories, every story, and my tumblr page (my writing blog!)
If you haven't yet heard of that, my writing blog really is me ranting about a fanfiction writer's struggles and I now post sneak peeks on there instead of Facebook (this is because every time I do a sneak peek on my fb page, all the words somehow get cluttered up, it's easier on tumblr). The tumblr page also has character bios and there is a story status page (under future and current story plans) that is updated everyday (well… starting tonight it will be updated everyday). So… if you want to… you can follow it! The link to it is on my profile.
Okay, now I'm exhausted and have a big day of classes tomorrow. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and don't forget to leave a review! :)