Wishing my readers a fabulous 2015

I know almost nothing about skull injuries. Part of the scenario is based on an episode of CSI. I've no idea if it's accurate, but it sounded fun.

Trigger warning: mention of attempted rape, swearing

DI Noor Panesar had endured a hectic Monday morning. DCI Lestrade's weekly team meeting had been first thing so she'd had to leave their nanny, Cecile, to get the kids ready for school as she dashed out the door, already behind schedule. Luckily the traffic was in her favour and she made it to New Scotland Yard with enough time to pick up a coffee and Danish.

The meeting itself had overrun by nearly forty minutes due to a combination of discussions about the staff appraisals that were due, and a particularly long-winded and vociferous moan by DI Wilkins, new to Lestrade's team and uncomfortable with the idea of "amateur busy bodies masquerading as police consultants and mucking up his crime scene." Once he'd finally shut up his whining, it hadn't taken much for the six other DI's in the room to set him straight about Holmes and Watson. Panesar noticed that Lestrade had been gearing up to deal with the man at the start, but before he could open his mouth, Dimmock had waded in, telling Wilkins he was an idiot and how he should appreciate one of the best resources the Met had, especially considering his own inauspicious clean-up rate. Lestrade had sat back and smiled, his hands behind his head as he watched his DI's take up a fight that he had fought on his own for so many years. Panesar had helped of course, highlighting how useful he'd been on her first major case at the Met. Wilkins had then compounded his crimes by sneering a vaguely sexist and racist comment at her, which had ended with Lestrade out of his seat, his eyes flashing, his voice low and trembling with suppressed anger, and Wilkins on reprimand. It looked like Lestrade would have a vacancy for a new DI on his team soon.

Panesar had returned to her office with an air of smug satisfaction. Despite the over-run and how it had eaten into her mental schedule for her morning, she was quietly pleased that the team had pulled together. She felt like she was exactly where she ought to be, with people she could trust. She'd really fallen on her feet getting DCI Lestrade as her senior officer.

Returning to her office, she finished off the paperwork from her last case, before setting to on the admin she had to complete. Staff appraisals. Never a favourite, but a necessary evil. With luck she'd have them finished by mid-afternoon and be able to knock off a bit early. Having left home so early, it would be nice to spend some time with Piaar and Jai, her nine year old daughter and six year old son. They were settling in well to their new life in London, seeming to be making friends at their new school, although it never hurt to make sure all was going as well as they said. Luckily, when Adarshpal had relocated to the Capital, Cecile had been happy to move from Manchester to London with them. She'd been with them since Piaar was a year old, and Noor needed to return to work.

Noor was making good progress through her paperwork. She only had two more appraisals to complete before she was done. A timid knock at her door distracted her briefly.

"Come in."

A young, uniformed constable came smartly to attention before her desk, staring fixedly at the wall behind her head. The poor lad couldn't be long out of the Police College at Hendon.

"Constable?"

"Ma'am." The young lad gulped nervously. He was a shade under six feet tall, skinny, still suffered from mild acne, and his short, ginger curls obviously fought a daily battle with his cap.

Noor suppressed the urge to giggle. Keeping her gaze on the paperwork on her desk, she bit out an intimidating "Well? I haven't got all day."

The lad visibly wilted. "Ma'am. I probably should go. Sorry to have wasted your time."

Noor looked up. The boy was obviously distressed. "Stop. Something's bothering you enough to come and see me, Constable …?"

"Cooper, Ma'am."

"Constable Cooper. I can spare you five minutes. Sit on the sofa and tell me what's bothering you."

The constable looked fearfully at the sofa. He twitched, undecided whether to flee, sit, or stay fixedly at attention. In the end a gentle smile from Noor and a guiding hand on his shoulder persuaded him to sit, his hands wringing where they hung between his knees.

"Alright Constable, take a deep breath then tell me what's got you so bothered."

Once the lad decided to speak it was as if a dam had broken. Words came out in a pleading gush, falling over each other in a torrent of confusion and fear.

"It's my sister. We live in Barnet. Our Dad died when I was eleven, and Mum re-married two years ago. He's called Phil. I don't like him much. Bit of a tosser if you ask me. Oh, sorry Ma'am." Noor held up her hand to indicate she wasn't offended and to encourage the young man to continue. "Lindy, my kid sister's just started college, otherwise she'd have gone with Mum to Aberystwyth. Grandda's ill you see. Alzheimer's, and Nanna's struggling so Mum went up six, no seven weeks ago to help out. Lindy stayed home. I'm sharing a flat with a couple of other constables in Stoke Newington, but I go home most weekends, if I'm not on duty. Anyway, I went home on Sunday for lunch, like I'd arrange with Lindy. 'Cept she wasn't there. Phil said she'd left. Run off with some boyfriend she'd met at college. But that's not right. I'd spoken to Lindy. She'd not mentioned a boyfriend, and she isn't the type to run off. And like I said, we'd arranged Sunday lunch. She's just not the type to disappear like that. We're close, see. 'Specially since Dad died. She's three years younger than me, just turned seventeen, and she tells me everything. Well, obviously not everything everything, but all the important stuff. And when it comes to fellas, she always asks my opinion. Doesn't want to make a mistake she says. She certainly wouldn't run off with someone without my having met him. It's just not how Lindy is. Careful. Doesn't take risks. She knows the dangers you see. Dad was knifed helping a girl being raped in an alley. A hero the papers said. But she knows not to put herself in danger, take unnecessary risks. So you see Ma'am. I … I need your help. I tried telling my Sarge but he just said it was typical of girls of today, and it may be, but it isn't for Lindy. Not without telling me. Not without a call. And I can't get hold of her mobile, just her voicemail. I don't want to call Mum and worry her, but I spoke to Nanna and she sent her love to Lindy, like she hasn't seen her in a while, so she isn't there. And Ma'am, something's wrong an' I don't know what to do."

Noor looked into a pair of pleading, terrified, green eyes.

Her own gut was telling her that something was most decidedly wrong.

She stood up, walked to her desk and grabbed a notepad and pen. She placed them on the coffee table before the young man.

"You know the drill. Write down everything starting with your home address, contact numbers, names, dates and all salient facts." The young boy grabbed the offered stationery, threw her a quick look of gratitude, then began writing. Noor opened her office door. "Sergeant Donovan, with me. Book out a car and put a team on alert. It may be nothing, but I want to be prepared. I need to run it past the DCI, but we're going to Barnet, a seventeen year old female missing since Saturday."

Sally stood from her own desk. "Runaway Ma'am?"

"Possible, but unlikely. Constable Cooper's little sister seems to have disappeared without contacting her family."

A look of understanding passed between Inspector and Sergeant. Neither were expecting a good outcome, unless they were very, very lucky. "And Sergeant, call Holmes. I think we'll need him on this one."

-0-0-0-

"Really Sally, a missing teenage girl. That's barely a two."

"Normally yeah, but in this case it's the younger sister of one of our PCs. They're close and she'd arranged to do Sunday lunch. He turns up and she's not there. No contact since Friday. Step-dad says she ran off with some bloke on Saturday, but her brother doesn't believe it. Says it's totally out of character."

"Is the mother in the picture?"

"Normally, yeah. But's she's been in Wales for the last seven weeks caring for her sick Dad. They've not heard from the girl either. She didn't go with her Mum because she was starting sixth form college. I've spoken to the College Secretary and her Head Teacher. There's no indication of problems there. She was happy and her work was all good."

"So, foul play."

"Yep. The DI agrees. Heard the lad's story, called me right away, and had me put the full support team including Forensics on standby. She's already cleared it with the DCI and Barnet nick for us to have a look as it's one of our own. We're heading out now. Are you in?"

"Hmm. I'll take it. Text me the address. We'll meet you there."

-0-0-0-

Noor didn't want to do it, but without a warrant she needed permission to enter the property. PC Cooper could not give her that, so she was forced to call his mother in Wales. She waited until she was parked outside the property, knowing the woman would immediately call her husband to find out what was going on. This way, as soon as she had permission she could go in, giving the occupants no time.

"Mrs Patterson. My name is Detective Inspector Panesar. Your son is part of my team at Scotland Yard." A lie, but, Noor felt, a necessary one. "Your son has expressed some concerns about the whereabouts of your daughter. He has been unable to get a satisfactory explanation from your husband, and has asked me to investigate. I need your permission to enter your home so I can find out where you daughter is. Do you agree?"

"What do you mean Lindy's missing? That can't be right. Why's Charlie asked you to look into it? Phil's there. He'll let you in."

"So, to be clear. I have your verbal permission to enter your property to search for evidence of the current whereabouts and condition of your daughter."

"Yes, of course you do. There must be some mistake. Charlie's got it wrong. I'll call Phil and find out what's going on."

"I'd appreciate if you didn't do that Mrs Patterson. We're at your home now. I'll speak to your husband and ask him to call you. Is that acceptable."

The poor woman was becoming tearful. "Yes. Alright. Get Phil to call me. Charlie's got confused. Lindy's fine, I'm sure. Please, get Phil to call me. Oh God, Lindy. Please, find Lindy."

As Noor wound up the call, Sherlock and John arrived. Sally and Noor joined them on the pavement and walked to the front door of the brick-built semi-detached. It was one of many similar suburbs of London, build in the 1930's when London really began to sprawl. Streets of identical homes, with gardens now converted to car-parking in front and a small garden out the back.

Noor marched up to the double glazed front door, finding a button for the doorbell. She pressed it for a second, hearing it ring deep in the house. There was no movement. She pressed the button again, giving it a good two seconds. She indicated to Sally to use the garden gate to get access to the back of the house. Losing patience, she rang the doorbell a third and final time.

Sally poked her head out through the gate. "Ma'am, back door's open."

"Well done Sergeant. Gentlemen, let's go. Have you got gloves?"

Sherlock looked affronted. "Of course."

He stuck his right hand out towards John, who huffed out an exasperated breath before producing several pairs of nitrile gloves from his jacket pocket. He handed a pair to his partner, retained a pair for himself, and pushed the remainder back in his pocket.

Sally already had the back door open. Noor led the way to the stairs. "Hello. Metropolitan Police. Is anyone here?" When she received no answer, she led the way up that stairs onto the small landing.

"Cooper said Lindy's room is at the back on the left."

The room contained a single bed with a geometric print duvet in pastel shades. A chest of three drawers served as the bedside table. A lamp and a radio alarm clock were the only items on display at the bedside. The room in general was incredibly tidy.

Sherlock opened the wardrobe. "Noor, your opinion please."

The DI looked at the contents of the wardrobe, running her fingers over the clothes that still hung there, and surveying the gaps where some of the contents had been removed. Lindy seemed as precise with her clothes as with everything else. Her wardrobe was neatly ordered with blouses beside jumpers, skirts next to trousers, less commonly worn clothes at the far end and her favourite clothes easily accessible. Her shoes were similarly arranged, standing in ordered pairs on the floor of her wardrobe.

Noor hummed to herself, then moved over to a chest of drawers, checking the contents.

"You're right Sherlock. I don't think she packed."

John looked between the two detectives. "What's missing?"

"The wrong clothes. All lacy underwear and party outfits, but no normal clothes. Her jeans and t-shirts seem to still be here. Also, her makeup bag is on the dressing table. It's like someone's packed for a dirty weekend and nothing else. If she'd run off with someone she'd have packed jeans, socks, trainers, you know, street clothes, not just party wear."

Sally had been searching the drawers in her bedside table. She turned, holding a bubble pack aloft. "She'd also have packed her contraception. They were tucked under her alarm clock and the rest hidden in a tampon box; something a girl wouldn't normally keep next to her bed unless she needed to hide something from prying eyes. Cooper said she was careful. She'd never have left her contraceptives behind. She doesn't sound the type to rely solely on condoms or someone else for her protection. These are the type you take in the morning, and the last pill was taken on Friday. So she was OK on Friday morning, when she took the pill. When did Cooper say he spoke to her?"

"About five o'clock in the evening. She was on her was her way home from College. That's when they arranged Sunday lunch."

"But the Step-dad said she left on Saturday. If she's like most girls, she's have taken the pill as soon as she woke. That's why she hid them under the alarm clock, so they were easy to reach. If she woke here on Saturday morning she'd have taken her pill."

Sherlock smiled. "So Sally, you're saying she was taken on Friday evening. And Noor has identified that she didn't plan on leaving because someone packed clothes for her to cover up her disappearance."

At that point, John re-entered the bedroom. "Sherlock, you need to see the bathroom."

Sherlock carefully entered the small room, Noor and Sally waiting with John by the door. It was unnecessary for John to point out what he had already noticed. Sherlock had probably already spotted everything for himself.

"Hmmm, new shower curtain and a distinct smell of bleach, lots of bleach."

"OK Sherlock, how can you tell it's a new shower curtain? And bleach is pretty common in a bathroom."

"Really Sally, It's obvious. It's a cheap plastic curtain on metal curtain rings. Every time the curtain is pulled back and forth, strain is put on the holes by the rings. They stretch. These aren't stretched at all and there's no build-up of soap scum on the curtain, unlike the deposits around the taps on the bath and basin. Also, the bath mat is missing. What type of suburban household doesn't have a bathmat to put your wet feet on? Everything says most of this bathroom has not been properly cleaned since Mrs Patterson left for Wales, yet the shower curtain has been replaced very recently, the bath has been scrubbed, the bathmat's missing, and there's a strong smell of bleach."

Noor had hoped this wasn't the outcome, but now it was fairly obvious they were looking for a body. "Sergeant, get the team in. Full Forensics, and get uniform to pick up Phil Patterson. He needs to be taken to Barnet nick for questioning. Also, get Traffic to find his car. If he did a body dump, there's probably still evidence. Let's face it, he's not the most competent cleaner."

They made their way back down stairs. "Sergeant, lock the back door and secure all house keys. Also, secure the back gate. We'll meet you out front."

As Noor reached to open the front door, a key scraped in the lock and the door swung open, revealing a startled middle aged man in a cheap suit and mac. The thin blue and white striped carrier bag indicated he was returning from a quick visit to the nearest corner shop.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doin' in my fuckin' house?"

"Mr Patterson I presume. I'm Detective Inspector Panesar and this is Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson. I have your wife's permission to search this house for evidence relating to her missing daughter, Lindy. Now, will you accompany us to Barnet Police station voluntarily or shall I place you under arrest?"

-0-0-0-

Once they'd got him in the interview room, it had taken very little time for Patterson to crack. He'd come home of Friday evening after a few too many beers after work. He was missing his wife, and decided that his step-daughter would make a suitable substitute to scratch his particular itch. He'd caught up with her on the landing where she's tried to fend him off. Having managed to push him away, she'd made a run for the bathroom, but had been unable to lock the door in time. He'd burst into the room, fuelled by alcohol, sexual desire, and rage at being rejected by the teenager. The force of his entry into the tiny room had thrown the girl backwards causing her to crack her head on the side of the original enamelled iron bath.

Panic seized him. He tore down the shower curtain, wrapping the body and bloody bath mat in it, before carrying her to his car. He'd driven to nearby Barnet Gate Wood where he'd dumped her body away from the footpath, covering it with branches and leaves. He'd then come back to clean up. When Charlie arrived expecting Sunday lunch with his sister, Phil had panicked, saying the first thing that came into his head, that she'd run off with a boyfriend. He then packed a bag to back up his story, throwing in her handbag, and disposing of it in a skip. He'd had enough sense to remove the battery from her phone to prevent it being traced before it too went into the skip.

Sherlock and John accompanied Noor and Sally to the dump site. It was Sherlock who spotted the artificial pile of branches. Flies swarmed around, scattering when Sherlock approached. Sherlock began to carefully remove the top branches, careful to avoid disturbing evidence.

Noor approached. "Careful Sherlock. We need to confirm she's there then we'll leave this to Forensics."

Sherlock suddenly froze, then began tearing through the debris with no regard for preservation of evidence.

The DI shouted in anger. "Sherlock. What the hell are you doing?"

At the same time Sherlock yelled, "John, quickly. She's here. Someone call an ambulance. Quickly, help me."

Sally stopped for just a second before she sprang into action, pulling out her phone to call paramedics. Noor ran forward, pulling aside branches to clear the way, whilst yelling at the uniformed officers. "Here, now. She's alive. Move it."

Sherlock cleared the leaves from the girl's head and face. John immediately began assessing the patient. A low moan prompted him to start talking in his wonderfully calming voice. "It's alright Lindy. You're safe. I'm a Doctor. You're doing really well. Just stay still and we'll get you to hospital. Don't worry. You're safe."

-0-0-0-

Sherlock and John lurked around the vending machine in the visitor's room while Lindy underwent emergency surgery. Sherlock rarely had any interest once the case was solved, but this situation was unusual. The girl had survived nearly seventy hours in the open, unconscious, with a major head injury, her only protection from the elements, a flimsy nightie and a plastic shower curtain. The icing on the cake, as far as Sherlock was concerned, was that she'd been saved by flies. The weather had been warm enough that her wound had quickly attracted flies. The eggs began to hatch within a day, the maggots feasting on the dead flesh of the wound preventing infection. She had a depressed skull fracture to the parietal bone with swelling of the brain caused by her impact with the bath. It was unlikely she would regain conciousness any time soon. She was not in the clear yet and a full recovery was doubtful, but she was alive.

The two men returned to the DI and her Sergeant. John handed Noor and Sally the excuse for coffee dispensed by the vending machine, before claiming his own from Sherlock's hand.

"Hello Sherlock. I can't leave you alone for a moment can I."

"Lestrade." The DCI looked proudly at his team.

John turned and grinned. "Hi Greg. What're you doing here?"

"I brought PC Cooper in. He's with the Doctor at the moment getting an update on his sister's condition. He'll be along in a second. DI Panesar. Good job, nicely done."

"Thank you, Sir. It was a team effort. I'm glad we got a good result. It could so easily have gone the other way."

Greg turned to share a look with his former Sergeant. "OK Sally?"

"Yes sir. Good actually, really good. Glad we managed to get a result for Cooper."

"What about the Mother. Has she been updated?"

"We've told her Lindy's been found alive and is in hospital. Dyfed Powys Police are driving her down now. She should be here before morning. We've arranged alternate accommodation for her as the house is still being processed. We haven't told her about her husband yet, only that he's being held for questioning."

"Probably best. Telling someone that your husband thought he'd killed your daughter after his attempted rape went wrong is probably best done face to face."

"Yeah. I'm not looking forward to that conversation."

"What about Cooper? How much are you going to tell him?"

"He'll have to know it all eventually. At the moment, he just needs to know that his step-father thought he'd accidentally killed his sister. Rather than calling an ambulance he panicked and dumped her in the woods, and that by bringing her disappearance to my attention he saved her life."

There was a gasp from the doorway. "Did I really?"

They all turned to look at the Constable, now in jeans, polo shirt and jacket, as he entered the room.

Strangely, it was Sherlock who stepped forwards. "PC Cooper. You did well. Without your intervention in bringing your concerns to DI Panesar's attention, it is doubtful your sister would have survived. Had she spent another night outside, she would certainly have been found too late. She is strong. She fought every step of the way."

"They said she might have brain damage."

"She might, but if anyone can beat the odds, it's your sister. Do not give up on her. She is a remarkable fighter."

"Thank you sir. And thank you for helping the Inspector. I couldn't believe it when DCI Lestrade told me you and Dr Watson were helping the investigation. Thank you for finding my sister. Really, thank you."

"It was our pleasure. Now, come along John. We should be going."

John shrugged. "Bye Noor, Sally. We need a beer Greg. Call me. Nice to have met you Cooper. I'd best get going. He gets into trouble when let loose in a hospital on his own."

Danish – Danish pastry, also known as a viennoiserie pastries in some countries.
Ma'am – pronounced marm, not mam, when addressing a superior officer.
Nick – slang for Police Station
PC – abbreviation for Police Constable
Mac – short for mackintosh, a long raincoat
nightie - night shirt