Chapter 11

Gregory attended his counselling sessions every Friday afternoon for three months. Dr Kuperberg was a woman in her mid thirties, with soft blue eyes and gentle smiles. Gregory didn't know what to do in her office. So he kept himself quite. And she let him, said he was welcome to open up whenever he was ready. They shared tea in those afternoons. strangely it was slowly becoming a somewhat a soothing experience. A time of silent company, a place that allowed him to break away from the Yard and his troubled thoughts for a while.

Mycroft Holmes had almost become a distant memory after six months. Gregory thought the politician had tired of whatever game they were playing and moved on to the next thing that caught his fancy.

Then, bodies started to turn up. Bodies of young boys – in late teens or early twenties, all with dark brown eyes and hair dyed to striking shade of silver-grey.

The first one was found in the alley behind a night club with dubious reputation. There were no signs of struggle or assault. The cause of death was determined as drug overdose. There was very little paperwork and the case was closed within a few hours. No one paid it much attention. After all, he was just another junkie, another run-away, another young boy who chose a dangerous life style and paid with his life.

The second one turned up at a similar location three weeks later, again with signs of fatal overdose, but this time there were bruises and marks on his neck, wrists, chest, thighs and ankles. Some of them were quite old, and others were obviously recently acquired, but none were severe enough to attribute to his death, and hence there were very little further investigation. After all, he was only a rent boy who was well known for catering to rougher clientele.

Three weeks after that, the third boy was found in the Thames; murdered then being dumped in the river. The cause of death was determined as strangulation, not drowning, based on the mark around his throat, and the amount of water accumulated in his lungs. Gregory and his team were put on the case. There was excessive bruising on the body, as well as evidence of sexual intercourse prior to his death, in addition to signs of struggle. Unfortunately, the victim had been in the water for more than a week, no DNA evidence survived. However, a Savile Row button was found in the pocket of the victim. It was quite possible that he managed to grab it off during the fight, purposely had it hidden as evidence before he was suffocated to death.

It took Gregory an hour to find out about the other 2 victims in the system. Other than their distinct features, there were limited similarities in these cases. The silver-grey hair was particular odd. It certainly didn't seem to be the new trend amongst the younger crowd. That along was enough for them to suspect they were looking for a serial killer who was demonstrating increasing level of violence and frequency.

He managed to trace his investigation to a specific Savile Row shop based on the button they found, and subpoenaed a list of their clients. His blood instantly ran cold when he came across the name of M. Holmes.

Part of him called himself silly. After all, there were hundreds of names on that list, most of them being regulars, Mycroft Holmes was merely one of them. There was absolutely nothing concrete about his suspicion. He told himself he was simply biased because he knew where the other man's preference lay.

He drank down what was left of his bitter and cold coffee, then headed towards the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water, trying to wash away the sense of dread that was sitting heavily in his stomach. He found himself looking into the bathroom mirror. He couldn't help but took in his own reflection - the brown eyes, silver- grey hair, and the particular shape of his chin, his mouth and his face. It was then he came to the startling realization about the similar traits that he shared with those 3 victims.

He had to know for sure. And it wasn't a case that he could get Sherlock involved, it would lead to too many complications. So he did the old fashioned way. It was why he found himself in a rental car, parked not far away from the Diogenes Club – the only place that he knew the younger man frequented other than his house in Kensington.

He knew he was putting not only himself but his entire department in jeopardy by surveilling a senior government official without official sanction. But he was also aware that without any concrete evidence his superiors would not risk their careers to launch an investigation against the politician. It was something he had to do.

His time and efforts did pay off. Three nights later, he caught a young boy being escorted out of the Diogenes Club on his camera lens. Despite the lateness of the night, there were enough street lights for him to pick out the striking shade of silver grey hair that was half hidden underneath a baseball cap.

AN: Many thanks to FeliciaHM for beta the last 2 chapters, as well as sharing many wonderful ideas and inspirations. Without her, this fic would still have been in hiatus.