18th September 2005
Sherlock's POV
It's another week before he actually manages to ask Jim about tag. He knows how children play, but how do adults play in the city? Apparently the game is to figure out the best place to hide, or stay on the move, so the other person can't find him. Short of injuring each other, anything goes. It sounds like it could be interesting, at the same time he's concerned about being overwhelmed.
—If it gets to be too much, just text me,— Jim suggests calmly, —or have one of the networks text one of us. There isn't really any place in this city you can go that one of the networks isn't at, between John's patients, mine and Pike's informants, and some of the other random people out there. —
He nods slowly, thinking about it. —I'd like to try.—
It's still another three days before they actually give it ago.
They decide to start at John's clinic since he is most familiar with that area.
Jim is giving him a ten minute window to start with. Something about giving him some adjustment time and a chance to get a head start. He's not quite sure that he needs ten minutes, at the same time, maybe he does. He's been slowly getting better. While he still hasn't spoken, he at least is communicating and hasn't wanted a fix in a while.
Off he heads, sticking to back alleys and side streets. He goes nowhere where there are large groups of people or loud noises, not trusting himself with either at this point.
Actually, he freezes, this is the first time he's been left completely on his own. His eyes flicker upwards, finding a camera and smiling. Jasper is tracking him. He knows the agent won't give his location away to Jim. That's not part of the game.
Grinning, he takes back off, heading towards one of the warehouses by the docks. It's not an area he's had a lot of chances to explore, so playing a game of tag with Jim is a perfect chance for him to do so. Since it's not somewhere he's been, the chances of the Wildcard realizing it's the direction he went are pretty slim. At least it is according to his calculations.
Time flies as he travels through the city, sometimes running, sometimes walking. He catches the underground for several stops. Getting himself even closer before getting off and taking back to the back alleys and side streets.
According to his internal clock he's been on the move for the last forty-three minutes.
He comes to a sudden stop as he rounds a corner and can hear a large group of voices in an area that he wasn't expecting any.
Again he freezes, stopping to listen to the conversation. Apparently there was a murder and they are currently looking at the crime scene. Slowly, quietly, he moves forward, still listening to the people talking, discussing the situation. He's mildly surprised there isn't a police line on this side, until he realizes that the police cars block this side so they wouldn't need to block it otherwise. Most people wouldn't come through the cars.
Curiously, he continues walking forward, eyes darting over everything.
There's a dead woman on the ground, looks like someone stabbed her repeatedly. It was definitely a crime of passion, but not the romantic sort but the possessive sort. Actually, his eyes scan over the group of people both the police and the crowd on the other side, slipping ever closer, he wets his lips, because he's pretty sure he can say exactly how this happened and why it happened and which of those people it is.
"He killed her because she turned him down, broke up with him and refused to come near him, she wanted to move on with her life. The guilty party is," he pauses, motioning towards a rather nervous looking heavy set man. "Him."
The heavy man goes to bolt but doesn't get far because the Wildcard appears in front of the large man and just smiles, an icy expression that freezes the killer in place.
"Of all the ways I expected you to get your voice back, rattling off details of a murder wasn't one of them," the agent comments with a snicker.
"Who are you and how do you know that?" a tall dark haired man whose starting to go gray demands, chocolate eyes dancing between them and the crime scene.
Jim smirks, flipping a card out from somewhere and handing it to the detective without saying a word.
The detective takes the card questioningly, eyes going wide before muttering, "You're free to go."
—Come on, I think we should pay John a visit, he'll be excited for you. — The psychopath suggests.
He nods, skirting the edge of the crime, pausing to comment, "You'll find the knife he used two streets over in the bins."
Stopping next to Jim, he arches a questioning eyebrow.
—Jasper is sending a car, it will be here shortly. — the agent tells him.
He nods and the two of them turn away.
Sure enough, they haven't gotten very far when a sleek black car pulls up beside them.
It takes him two tries to say it aloud, "Why a car instead of a cab?"
"I gave the detective one of my MI5 cards." Jim answers, "It's easier than talking my way out, like I normally would have, but you were starting to shake lightly."
Blinking because he hadn't noticed his physical state, he takes stock of it and discovers that the psychopath is right. That also explains the use of sign language when directed to him. Both designed to keep him from overloading. Despite that fact, he grins because he just solved a murder with nothing more than looking around and using his talent for seeing. It's the first time he's ever used his talent for something like that.
Maybe, could he do something with it?
He worries his bottom lip as he stares at the passing city, considering his options. He possibly could solve crimes, it could be fun, puzzles are almost always interesting.
—Do you think, — he hesitates, falling back on sign language as he is more comfortable with it right now.
Jim tips his head, that reptilian movement he has seen plenty of times as the psychopath contemplates what he started to say. Knowing the other man, the agent knows what the rest of the question was. Wildcard is the first non-Holmes he has met with that particular skill set.
—Do you think I do something like that? — he asks hesitantly.
—Yes. You could,— the agent answers, —Probably better than most their forensics teams since you see more than they do with just a glance.—
He ducks his head and smiles.
Now how to discuss this with his brother? Maybe he should have John mediate between them. While things have gotten a lot better between himself and his brother, he's still unsure of how to approach this. He's not really known what to do with himself, but if he could use his differences for something useful, something productive, maybe it would give him something to focus on beyond the siren of call of his addiction. Although, he snickers, he hasn't actually felt that sirens call in several weeks. He's not foolish enough to feel that it's forever gone. He knows addiction doesn't work like that.
When they reach the clinic, the two of them quietly slide from the car. He isn't due for an appointment until later today, but he's not bothered by the fact they will be waiting. It gives him a chance to think through this a bit more. Maybe come up with an actual plan or brain storm some ideas. He definitely has of planning to do, thinking through all the angles, maybe even some research.
That's one really nice thing about their particular group of friends, is the Jasper makes all their phones better than what can be found on the market. It's rather handy as he settles in to do some internet surfing while waiting.
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There is probably 7 to 10 chapters left on this story, there will be other stories in this verse, although I probably won't start posting them until I have them done, just because posting between writing is getting depressing as reviews have lessened and it keeps making me feel like no one is reading it. At least if I get it typed first, I wont have to worry about that keeping me from writing it or killing my muse.
