TheDarkestShinobi: I feel like this chapter needs a warning, so sorry for spoilers but there will be a shooting scene, no main character death but there will be death.
Start
"Better?" Donavan asks with a small smile when she sees him for the first time that day. He shakes his head at her before he nods with a smile.
"Yeah." He takes the file from her, noting it's her fathers and places it on his desk before picking up the other and holding it out to her.
"Ah, yes." She takes the seat in front of him. "So, I had two officers go speak to Mr. Alibi about his actual whereabouts last night."
"Oh? What did they find out?"
"I DIDN'T DO IT!" Donavan spins in her seat to see two officers wrestling with a man in handcuffs. Donavan rises from her chair to walk out and Lestrade follows. The man head butts an officer who is now profusely bleeding from the nose. The second officer grips the suspect's arms but has even less luck now. Donavan reaches for her gun as the man breaks free.
"Hey, hey," Lestrade yells as he runs over but Donavan is already standing in front of him, gun leveled at his head.
"Don't." She commands and the man stops, glaring at her.
"You little-"
"I wouldn't." Lestrade cuts him off, his head at an angle and eyes slightly squinting. The suspect takes his advice and lets himself be dragged away by a few men. "It's just going to be one of those days." He remarks as he stands next to her, both of them watching the men leave.
"I guess so." She hostlers her gun as she crosses her arms. Moriarty agrees.
"Mr. Alibi came in the same way last night."
"Last night?" he turns to her, hands pulling his jacket back as they settled on his hips. She shrugs.
"This morning technically, around 2 AM." He shakes his head at her.
"Sleep?" She's silent.
"Sargent Donavan!" She turns to see Marcus, a short dark skinned rookie calling her over and she nods. Well, she's almost sure his name is Marcus.
"Coming."
…
"Here it is," Sherlock whispers to himself as he steps into the abandoned flat. It's his second time here, but besides the dust lines nothing much has changed. He steps over the broken glass, though some of it manages to crunch under his feet. He has about 4 hours left in this case
Nothing had made sense the last time he was here. It still doesn't make a lot of sense. There were bullet holes everywhere, as if there was a two sided firefight with multiple people on each side. Some of the bullet holes were hard to see as the wall around them crumbled. A man capable of tossing a table had tossed one into a wall. The table had fallen from where it had been stuck, but the dents and holes in the wall remained. Sherlock approached the wall now, letting his gloves fingers trace the outline before dipping in.
There was evidence of hand to hand combat, suitcases dragged on the floor. There was an American dollar on the floor. The blood of a Chinese man named Jian Lu, a man arrested for petty larceny, who had a solid alibi in China. Even so, DNA testing had not been so reliable at the time.
Sherlock found black scuff marks on the wall that were likely from the suitcase. He made some arbitrary movements with his hands shaping different size suitcases. Ah. He smiled suddenly standing and turning before stopping himself. He nods once, frowning and looking away from the empty space in the middle of the room.
"A suitcase." He says to himself, wishing for his skull. "A suitcase of about that size could comfortably hold 50 thousand pounds." He walks over to the couch picking up the knife on the table and fiddling with it. "Suitcase was here, turned over." He squats and blows a puff of air to send the dust flying. There were black scuff marks. He had noticed that before. He stands. This isn't good enough.
Sherlock turns closing his eyes and diving into his mind palace.
Man, likely Mr. Donavan, brings the suitcase up the stairs. He places more weight on his left half of his body-noticed before. Cause was unknown- battle injury is current theory. He comes in and leans against wall-causes scuff-trying to look casual-military man. Sherlock shakes his head. Military man stands like J-HE does. Straight, never leaning against surfaces. He was acting-acting-acting. Acting-scuffle-firefight-death. 50 thousand pounds.
Drugs.
Sherlock feels his mind clear up.
Chinese. That had to mean something. Think time of the crime. Ten, twenty, little less, 20. 15 years ago.
Opium.
He physically draws his head back as his mind assaults him. He opens his eyes.
…
Moriarty lifts his phone to his head.
"Hello, make sure you leave the Detective Inspector and Sargent Donavan alive." He smiles wider, "if you can hit them sure, but it's you on the line." He is silent for a few seconds; nothing is heard from the other side of the phone either. Jim lifts his bare wrist to his face. He mouths five, then four, counting down to one.
"Go."
…
Lestrade hears the doors slam against the wall and has already drawn his gun. Anderson has dived under his desk and done the same. The four men who are at the front doors armed with machine guns start shooting, and the screams are almost louder than the bullets.
No one by the door is left alive, and it's Anderson who fires a few shots from beneath his desk to shoot someone in the foot. That man goes down and once Anderson sees his head, he fires again. Lestrade knows he'll become a target the second he opens his door, so he crouches by it and closes his eyes taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself.
Donavan is in the bathroom, unarmed and cursing. She looks to the other two.
"Either of you bring a gun?" She asks to which she receives nods,
"Not to the bathroom." One adds. "Jesus, no." She continues.
"Kevin." The second pales.
"No, no. No!" Donavan grabs her forcefully. "We're walking targets out there." She doesn't stop trying to get to the door. "Stop it!" She shakes her and the other seems to calm down just a bit and turn to sadness.
Sally creaks open the door a bit trying to see anything. "Sally, here." One whispers and Sally looks to see Angela holding out a compact mirror. Sally shrugs but tries it anyway. She can only see two people but she won't assume there is only two.
The shots have tapered off now, less of an assault and more of a small firefight. Anderson is out of bullets and keeps tightening his grip on the gun. A man he can't see well stands suddenly to fire two bullets to take out one of the three. On his way down he screams in pain and Anderson closes his eyes.
Lestrade's phone rings and he curses before grabbing it and muting it, shoving it back into his pocket. He places his ear against the door and flexes his trigger finger a little bit, but everything seems to have died down. He shakes his head, bad wording.
Do we have files on an old gang called the Black Eagles? –SH
Lestrade takes a shuddering breath. He'll go out in just a second.
I need that information -SH
Sally stands suddenly and starts taking off her shirt. The other two exchange glances as she takes off her button up to reveal her tank top. She folds the shirt quickly and wraps her hand in it as she walks over to the mirror. Angela gets it, because she lets go of Frannie and stands next to her. Sally thrusts into the mirror without breaking it.
I don't have time for this Lestrade. -SH
"Let me." Angela insists quietly.
"I'm trying not to make noise." Sally whispers in an answer.
"I know, use your heel." She instructs and Sally hits it one more time, causing the mirror to break. Some pieces clatter into the sink below but there are more than enough big pieces for each of them to grab one. Sally wraps her hand with the shirt and clutches it, while Angela uses her handkerchief.
Anderson doesn't know where the other two men went. Lestrade pulls his door open a little bit before shutting it. "Come on, you're a trained professional for Christ's sake." He mutters to himself but he doesn't open the door back up again.
There are four hours left -SH
One of the men, Liam, has been incarcerated before. Sargent Donavan, although she wasn't a Sargent at the time, noticed something off about the placement of a floorboard and found the murder weapon. He couldn't kill her, but he could sure hurt her. Two birds with one stone, the boss said he could. He'd have to be careful, too much and he'd be next on Watson's list.
The more you ignore me, the more that person has to suffer. Don't you care? Lives are at stake –SH
He knew she wasn't at her desk, so she was either upstairs, in a common area or the bathroom. He'd guess the bathroom.
This is Donavan, isn't it, told you I was running you to death? -SH
TDS: review!
