John sat uncomfortably on the sofa while Kenny Prince primped in front of the mirror above the fireplace. The front door opened and shut, echoing though the house. John set his tea down and popped up.
"That'll be them." He muttered.
"What?" Kenny asked distractedly. To answer his question Raoul, the houseboy, led Sherlock and Adara into the living room. Sherlock walked in with a large bag on his shoulder, attached to a narrow case containing a camera tripod. Adara had a satchel draped across her body, a hairbrush sticking out the side.
"Ah, Mr. Prince isn't it?" Sherlock greeted, quickly walking over to the man.
"Yes."
"Very good to meet you." Adara murmured in greeting. Sherlock held out his hand to shake.
"Yes, thank you." Kenny took the man's hand, not noticing that Sherlock's eyes darted down to look his hands over.
"So sorry to hear about…"
"Yes, yes, very kind." Kenny cut him off with a strained grin. Adara rose her brow curiously but said nothing.
"Shall we uh…" John prompted. Taking his que, Sherlock set his bag on the sofa and began rummaging through it. Kenny turned back to the mirror, allowing Adara to fiddle with his hair as she was the 'makeup artist'. She kept the man distracted while Sherlock and John had a chat by the sofa.
"You were right. The bacteria got into her another way." John whispered intently. Sherlock smirked.
"Oh yes?" he hummed with interest, pulling out a large professional camera.
"Yes."
"Right. We all set?" Kenny asked, turning towards the men as Adara stepped away.
"Um, yes." John nodded. He sent a look to Sherlock who turned around with a nod. John jerked his head towards the mantle, directing Kenny.
"Can you…." Kenny nodded and stepped closer to the mantle, leaning his arm on it. As the man posed, Sherlock came closer with his camera in hand, carelessly flashing photos without really looking. Kenny holds his position, only leaning back slightly as Sherlock starts leaning in closer.
"Not too close. I'm raw from crying." Kenny warned uncomfortably. A meow by Adara's feet caught their attention. The woman looked down to see an Egyptian Sphinx rubbing against her legs. She grinned, leaning down to pick up the bald cat. It purred contently as she stroked it.
"Who's this?" she asked curiously. Sherlock glanced down at the animal in her arms.
"Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess." Kenny explained. Adara nodded before setting the cat back down.
"How nice. Was she Connie's?" Sherlock inquired, feigning interest.
"Yes." John tried to pick up the cat, but Kenny beat him to it.
"Little present from yours truly." Mr. Prince added. John clenched his jaw in frustration, looking between the pet and his partners pointedly. Adara blinked in surprise, glancing back at the cat with a small frown. What was so important about it?
"Sherlock? Uh, light reading?" John requested.
"Oh, um.." Sherlock muttered lifting the flashgun closer to Kenny. When the bright light went off it momentarily blinded the now thoroughly confused man.
"2.8" he answered.
"Bloody hell. What do you think you're playing at?!" Kenny snapped, his eyes blinking heavily against the light. While he was distracted John reached out and rubbed his fingers over the cat's front paw. Meanwhile Sherlock continued to snap photos, flashing rapidly. Adara stood behind him, blinking hard as all the shiny metal and mirrors reflected the flash throughout the room.
"Sorry." He muttered half-hearted while Kenny clenches his eyes shut. John sniffed his fingers curiously, taking note of what was on the cat's claws.
"You're like the three bloody stooges. What's going on?" Kenny stuttered.
"Actually, I think we've got what we came for. Excuse us." John quickly dismissed, already heading towards the door in a very Sherlock fashion. Adara smirked as she watched John's shoulders lift with pride as he strode out of the house.
"What?" Mr. Prince frowned in confusion.
"Sherlock." John called. The man blinked in confusion, spinning around as John left.
"What?"
"We've got deadlines." John insisted, grabbing the camera case from the sofa and heading for the door. Adara and Sherlock quickly followed after him.
"But you've not taken anything!" Kenny shouted after them, severely confused. Ignoring his calls, the trio let themselves out of the house. John chuckled in delight as they head down the driveway towards the main road of the fancy suburb.
"Yes! Ohh, yes!" John laughed with a broad grin. Sherlock grinned wryly.
"You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat." He pointed out. Instantly, John's mood dimmed.
"What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. It's paws stink of disinfectant." John insisted assuredly. Sherlock shook his head, the grin never leaving his face. Adara smirked at the thought.
"It's not a horrible idea, John. Just not applicable in this situation." Adara corrected gently.
"No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet, bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have…"
"I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and clever to be the brother." Sherlock interrupted. John grinned, still shaking his head.
"He murdered his sister for money."
"Did he?" Sherlock questioned boredly. John paused, looking up at the man as his assuredness started to dim.
"Didn't he?"
"Nope. It was revenge." The taller man answered, looking ahead as they walked down the street.
"Revenge? Who wanted revenge?" John sputtered.
"Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally, he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle so…"
"Gossip websites….a surprisingly great source for information." Adara murmured, cutting him off. John stopped, stepping in front of the other two with his hand up.
"No, wait, wait. Wait a second." He insisted, trying to wrap his brain around the whole thing. Adara and Sherlock paused accordingly.
"What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?" he asked.
"Raoul keeps an immaculate house. Just walking through the door, you could see the kitchen was scrubbed within an inch of its life. The whole house smells of disinfectant. So much so that even you smell like it now. The cat easily picked it up from the house as well. It just doesn't factor in here." Adara explained, raising a brow as she glanced at his jacket. John pulled up his jacket and sniffed it, realizing she was right.
"Raoul's internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here." Sherlock added, walking the rest of the way to the main road to flag down a car. John sighed in exasperation, disappointed that he hadn't cracked the case like he thought he had. His eyes glared holes into the back of Sherlock's head. Adara patted the man consolingly on the shoulder.
"It was a very good idea, John. Don't discredit yourself so quickly. It just didn't pan out this time around, but there's always next time." She grinned. John scrunched up his face pensively.
"I'm not quite sure how I feel about that." He muttered. How was he supposed to feel? He was grateful to Adara for the encouragement but felt wrong that he almost anticipated the next case so he could prove himself.
...
ONE HOUR
...
Sherlock strode into Scotland Yard, wielding a large portfolio in his hand. Adara and John trailed behind.
"Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince, it was botulinum toxin." He explained, setting the folder on the desk. where Lestrade was consulting with a coworker. The inspector reached for the papers as Sherlock leaned in to whisper.
"We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bombers repeated himself." He muttered. John listened in surprise as he followed Adara, Sherlock, and Lestrade to a quiet corner.
"So, how'd he do it?" Lestrade questioned.
"Botox injection." Adara shrugged.
"Botox?"
"Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases." He pointed to the folder in Lestrade's hand.
"He's been bulk ordering Botox for months." John stared at Sherlock, his face slowly becoming distorted with anger. He had made that call hours ago….so why were they bringing this up now.
"Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose." Adara added, glancing at John out of the corner of her eye. Sherlock remained oblivious. Lestrade worked his jaw, staring at the duo thoughtfully.
"You sure about this?" he inquired.
"I'm sure." The answer was satisfactory enough. Lestrade nodded and jerked his head.
"All right, my office." He instructed the group, heading that direction. Before they could leave, John held back Sherlock and Adara.
"Hey, how long?" he asked curiously.
"What?" Sherlock blinked.
"How long have you known?" John reiterated. Adara glanced down at the floor briefly while Sherlock, pursed his lips in thought. Only one of them understood where John was going with this.
"Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake." Sherlock easily answered. He tried to leave once more but John pressed on, stepping in his way.
"No, but….the hostage….the old woman. She's been there all this time." He insisted heatedly. Sherlock steeled his gaze as he leaned in closer to John.
"I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you see? We're one up on him!" whirling away from the conversation, Sherlock followed after Lestrade. John clenched his jaws tightly and looked over at the woman lingering by the wall.
"And you just let him do this?" he hissed, unsure how to feel. Adara stared at him passively.
"I encouraged it." John's eyes widened in surprise.
"You…wh…."
"John, things like this aren't black and white. We're dealing with professionals….very evil professionals. That's not something you can take lightly. Sometimes you have to step on some toes to get things done. Not everyone agrees with it, and not everyone likes it. But it's what needs to be done to push towards taking down people like this." she told him sternly, her face bare of emotion. John blinked thoughtfully as he took in the information. He said nothing as she stared him down. With a small nod of her head, realizing he needed time to process, Adara walked off to join the others in the office.
Inside, Sherlock quickly pulled up his website on the laptop with the pink phone on the desk next to him. They watched as he typed into the message box on the Science of Deduction website.
Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox.
The instant the message was sent, the pink phone began to ring. Sherlock quickly picked it up and held it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Help me." The woman pleaded.
"Tell us where you are. Address." Sherlock calmly and clearly instructed.
"He was so….his voice….." the woman began to mutter in hysterics. Adara's eyes widened in alarm as she was standing next to him. She quickly yanked the phone out of his hand.
"No, no, no, no. Say nothing about him. Stop talking about him. Say nothing." She insisted urgently. Sherlock watched her intently, leaning in closer to hear.
"He sounded so….soft…." a deafening blast rand out just before the line went dead. Adara clenched her eyes shut in disappointment as Sherlock frowned. He gently took it out of her hand.
"Hello?" he asked, fruitlessly. The dial tone on the other line told him what had happened.
"Sherlock? Adara?" Lestrade inquired worriedly as he watched their expressions.
"What's happening?" John chimed in. Sherlock stared ahead and lowered the phone silently. He bit his lip tensely, cluing the others into how bad the situation truly was. Adara looked over at them.
"Look for another gas leak explosion." She murmured quietly. Lestrade straightened up and sighed despondently. John was at a loss of what to do. Looking down at the man in the chair who was still staring ahead, John reached out and put a comforting hand atop the one that Adara had laid on Sherlock's shoulder.
...
...
The next morning in the flat, John and Sherlock sat in their designated chairs, watching the news coverage of the 'gas explosion'. Sherlock stared ahead at the television while John's chair was just in front, so he had to turn his body in order to watch. 12 dead read across the bottom of the television screen as the camera pans over a boarded up section of high rise flats that had been blown up last night. Adara tinkers in the kitchen, keeping herself busy as she prepares some tea. The news anchor's voice drones throughout the quiet apartment.
"The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people….."
"A whole block of flats." John commented over his shoulder at Sherlock.
"…is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utilities company…"
"He certainly gets about." John muttered, pursing his lips.
"Well, obviously I lost that round. Although technically I did solve the case." Sherlock pointed out in annoyance, picking up the remote to mute the television. John slowly turned his head to stare at the man incredulously. Adara walked in, cup of tea in hand as she perched herself on the arm of Sherlock's chair. She eyed him carefully, taking in the slightest tells of his expression to get a read on how he was feeling about all this. Sherlock stared thoughtfully into the distance, ignoring the looks he was getting from the two of them.
"He killed the old lady because she started to describe him." he mused.
"He put himself in the line of fire this time, and it backfired on him." Adara added. John tilted his head in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"It seems that typically he stays above it all. He masterminds and organizes everything but never brings himself down to the level where he had direct contact with anyone. Talking directly to someone rather than sending a text was risky and it worked against him. Let someone know than he was comfortable with." She explained. John gaped at the two of them.
"What….like the Connie Prince murder…he, he arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?" As John voiced his theory aloud, Sherlock's blank expression morphed into one of admiration.
"Novel." Adara glanced down at him, pursing her lips. She had to agree that it was a brilliant idea, one that she hadn't heard of before. However, she knew the line between marveling the genius and having a healthy respect of how dangerous this person could be. This mastermind's tendrils stretched further than she originally anticipated. Therefore, they needed to proceed with caution, rather than provoke him like she was sure Sherlock would do. The man was in some ways like a toddler; always wanting to go after the new shiny thing.
"Huh." John muttered in disbelief, turning to look back at the TV which had switched to a new story. He jerked a finger towards the screen where Raoul de Santos was being led away while interviewers and photographers went wild around him. Sherlock stared down at the pink phone, put off by the silence.
"Taking his time this time." He whispered. Adara scowled lightly, glancing down at the offending thing in his hand.
"Time to rethink his strategy. He deviated once; doubtful he is willing to try again." She hummed.
"Anything on the Carl Powers case?" John inquired.
"Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection." Sherlock told him, fiddling with his fingers as his eyes narrowed.
"Maybe the killer was older than Carl?" John suggested.
"The thought had occurred."
"We're looking into other avenues of contact." Adara assured the man, sharing a glance with Sherlock. John nodded.
"So, why's he doing this then. Playing this game with you? Do you think he wants to be caught?" the man pressed, distressed with this whole ordeal. Sherlock templed his fingertips together, smiling behind them.
"I think he wants to be distracted." John chuckled humorlessly, shooting out of his chair.
"I hope you'll be very happy together." He grumbled, pacing away. Sherlock furrowed his brow in offense.
"John." Adara mildly scolded, but she was ignored.
"Sorry what?" the man in the chair next to her asked. John whipped around furiously.
"There are lives at stake, Sherlock. Actual human lives…just….just so I know, do you care about that at all?" he snarled accusingly. Sherlock's expression steeled, his sharp change of demeanor evident only to Adara who sat quietly, watching the exchange with interest.
"Will caring about them help save them?" Sherlock asked blankly.
"Nope."
"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."
"And you find that easy, do you?"
"Yes, very. Is that news to you?" Sherlock queried. John smiled bitterly.
"No. No." the two stare at one another silently. Adara sighed and stood up from the chair, letting the two of them talk it out this time. She could advocate for Sherlock all she wanted, but John had to understand the thought process for himself if he was going to continue to tolerate the man. Sherlock eyed John for a moment before his jaw unclenched as he realized where they were at.
"I've disappointed you." Sherlock commented knowingly. John's smile turned angry as he threw his arm at him in mock pride.
"That's good….that's a good deduction, yeah."
"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." Sherlock warned him insistently. The room fell back into silence once more. This time it was broken up by the ringing of the pink phone.
"Excellent." Sherlock muttered with interest, glad to be distracted once more. After the one pip, a photo appears. A river bank. Adara walked back to look over his shoulder at the photo.
"View of the Thames. South Bank. Somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo." she listed off, scrunching her eyes as she thought back to that image in her mind. Sherlock beamed at her before reaching into his suit jacket to pull out his personal phone.
"John, you check the papers; I'll look online…." He trailed off as he noticed that John was still standing behind his chair with his hands braced on the back, head down.
"Oh, you're angry with me so you won't help." Sherlock muttered sourly. John shrugged, his lips pulled thin.
"Not much a cop, this caring lark." Sherlock snipped. Adara rolled her eyes at both their pettiness and walked over to grab John by the arm.
"I need to chat with you." she muttered, dragging the man after her. John followed rather reluctantly. They stepped into the kitchen and shut the sliding doors behind them. Adara knew that while Sherlock was looking up items on his phone, he would be too distracted to listen in. She whirled around to frown at John.
"I do hope you're not going to lecture me on how I'm wrong. I am not the one in the wrong here." John insisted tetchily, crossing his arms over his chest.
"In a way I would agree with you, but you have to realize that Sherlock also has a very valid point." She informed calmly. John opened his mouth to argue but went silent as she held her hand up.
"You are to listen now. If you truly want to continue living and working with Sherlock, you have got to start listening and actually taking what he says into consideration. You are not going to change him into the civil servant that you are. He just isn't wired that way." she told him sternly. John frowned thoughtfully, taking in her advice as she continued.
"Sherlock acts. He doesn't blather about emotions involved with the human condition and doesn't let his heart get in the way of his mind. Instead he shows he cares by busting his butt to solve the methods behind the madness and truly put these victims to rest. While you and I can use emotions to drive us, they can also be a hindrance. Even you can agree that sometimes you have to put your emotions aside and do the job. That's what Sherlock does naturally. Instead of arguing and trying to make him see your side, try to understand his." John pursed his lips, nodding as he took in a calming breath.
"How do you do it? How have you put up with that…..that…"
"Egotistical ass?" John chuckled at her description.
"I wouldn't have said that exactly, but yes. How do you not blow up all the time?" he inquired tiredly. Adara smiled.
"Practice. Over the years I have comfortably fell into my role as mediator for Sherlock and the rest of the human race. It just takes time to really understand him. And even now there's some things he does that still surprise me. That and he's definitely not the worst person I've ever met. He's actually much more remarkable than most." She explained fondly. John quirked his brow suspiciously, still not quite convinced about that, but he wasn't about to contradict her.
"Now are you going to let him keep you from helping other people or are you going to go back in there and be of use to this case?" Adara inquired with a knowing smirk. John rolled his eyes but walked towards the door anyway. With a smile she followed after him, picking up her cell while John began sifting through papers on the coffee table. Sherlock, oblivious to the whole conversation, was still researching on his phone.
"Archway suicide." John mumbled, loud enough for Sherlock to hear.
"Ten a penny." Sherlock dismissed.
"Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington." No response.
"Ah, man found on train line. Andrew West." John continued, looking up and shooting Sherlock a pointed stare. Sherlock snarled in exasperation, shooting a scathing glance at the man. Adara chuckled, watching the tall man get more and more frustrated with the lack of case.
"Maybe it's brand new." She suggested, already holding her cell and waiting patiently for the number to go through. Sherlock huffed, setting his phone down as he watched her intently. He was practically buzzing in anticipation. Adara grinned as the other line picked up.
"Hello Greg, we got another call. Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?" she inquired. They all waited in silence while the man gave his answer.
"Well I would suggest getting a team out there right away. We will meet you there." As the call ended Sherlock had already thrown his coat on and was heading towards the door.
"Fantastic!" he beamed, swooping in to press a kiss to her cheek as he passed. Adara snickered in amusement as she followed him out. A glance back told her that John wasn't far behind.