The Anti-Smoking Campaign
Matthew Thompson, the man murdered by nicotine overdose, worked in a fairly average office building in West London. Something to do with insurance, it didn't really matter to Sherlock. What mattered was how? and who?, and he was determined to find out.
"I'm just saying, you're great with your deductions, but talking to people isn't really your speciality. Just let me do the talking, okay, while you look around" John was saying to him as they entered the building.
"Fine, go talk to people." Sherlock relented. They signed in at the reception, glad for the clearance Lestrade had given them, making it easier for them to investigate. Just as they were turning away from the desk to split up and go about their investigations, Sherlock spotted something and turned back, letting John go off on his own.
"Um… excuse me, sorry to bother you again," Sherlock said to the receptionist, doing his best to sound friendly and approachable, since John seemed to think he couldn't do it "What's up with these flyers?" He held up one of the flyers in question; an anti-smoking leaflet, but not from the NHS or any other known group.
"Oh, a guy brings them in, Mark I think his name was. Runs his own smoking help group in his spare time. He was telling me his story when he dropped them off this morning, it's quite sad really, he planned to travel the world, explore y'know, but discovering he had serious lung cancer caused him to have to rethink his plans. All because he smoked so much when he was younger. So he quit, cold turkey, and set up this group to help others. I was thinking of going, especially after what happened to poor Matt" The receptionist rambled off.
"Hmm. Me too. Thanks for your help" Sherlock said, tucking a flyer into his coat pocket and walking away. He made his way up to the office where the deceased man worked, giving the room a quick once over before heading to the man's desk. He could see John chatting casually with one of the employees, perched on the edge of the woman's desk. No doubt he would be leaving with her number, all the signs were there.
Sherlock returned to the task at hand; investigating the dead man's desk. Thankfully it was all still untouched, and he was able to glean a lot from it. Most importantly, in the top desk drawer was a tobacco tin, containing a pack of golden leaf, papers and filters, and a couple of pre-rolled cigarettes. Sherlock gave one a sniff and decided there was definitely something wrong about them. He pocketed the whole tin for further investigation, before heading down to the smoking area. Now he knew what type of cigarette the man smoked it would be easier to find the correct cigarette butt outside. Of course, there were several cigarettes out there that fit the description of what he was looking for, so he collected them all. If his theory was correct, a little examination under a microscope would soon differentiate.
Having found everything he needed, Sherlock sent a text to John telling him he'd see him back at Bart's, and headed back there himself. Molly was midway through the autopsy when he arrived back. Not wanting to interrupt her recorded notes he merely nodded to her, then headed up to the lab, taking a seat at his favourite microscope.
"Found something?" John came in asking, sometime later. "Cos I'm afraid I've got nothing. He seemed well liked, no-one in the office with any grudges against him or any possible motives. None of them had heard anything about him quitting smoking though, which confirms your theory about it being a cover up."
"Did you get her number?" Sherlock asked, dismissing the rest of what John had said. "I knew it was no-one in the office almost as soon as I looked round. The company makes a point of providing left-handed office supplies for those who are left handed, yet our man still preferred normal equipment held with his left hand; someone else's scissors were on his desk, and if he made a point of borrowing the others equipment they would have all known he was left handed. Our killer is too smart to have overlooked that kind of detail, had he known about it. But he didn't know, therefore he wasn't from the office."
"If you already knew it wasn't anyone in there, why did you just let me waste all that time talking to everyone in the office? And yes I did as a matter of fact." John replied huffily.
"Then I wouldn't call it a complete waste of time." Sherlock smirked. "You insisted on talking to them. Besides while you were busy with that, I made a lot of progress."
"Such as?" John asked, folding his arms and trying his best to be patient.
Sherlock held up the tobacco tin with one hand, looking back at its contents through his microscope.
"His cigarettes. His whole tobacco supply was laced with an extra helping of pure nicotine. More than enough to kill him. Very clever, the killer could be miles away before his plan goes into effect, and even if someone discovered the laced cigarettes, they could think he did it himself; an attempt to give his cigarettes more kick, gone wrong." Sherlock explained, smiling as he always did when presented with a particularly clever case.
"Except we know better, because of the patches. So any ideas on who the killer might be?" John asked.
"Just one." Sherlock said, pulling out the flyer.
AN: Sorry for posting so much later than normal. Been a bit of a busy day, and I've been so tired, it's surprising I even got this done. It's not one of my best at all, but it'll do. I'll have to see how tomorrow goes whether I'll manage to post one. Thanks for your patience and encouragement :)