It was a cramped and dingy space made worse by the two men smoking within the glass windows. One had his feet up on the desk with a microphone near his mouth. The other sat back with headphones over his ears and gestured wildly with his hands. Although it was silent outside the box of a room, inside was a sharp contrast.
"And with us today we have the one… the only…" here the young man paused to drum his hands on the desk, "Sherlock Holmes! Straight out of high society, we bring you that posh ass you love to hate. So tell us, Mr. Holmes – what's the dirt?"
"On you specifically, William, or someone in particular?" the gangly teen asked, taking a drag on his cigarette. His black curly hair was a ruffled mess. He looked decidedly bored.
"I feel like living life dangerously today. Do me!" William said and added a wink only Sherlock could see. Sherlock rolled his eyes and spoke quickly.
"I see that you've recently returned from visiting family in the States. Your heritage obvious from your appalling American vernacular. And the trip, California - there are very few states that would offer that much sun this time of year. Your younger sister returned with you and has taken a flat in London. You are failing chemistry even though you cheat on the exams. You should really consider a different study partner."
William's eyes went wider and wider and although the smile never left his face his eyes were tight and angry. He switched off the mic.
"This is a public station, Sherlock. Anyone could be listening."
"I believe that was the point."
"Dick."
The on-air light switched on again.
"You don't know the half of it, Sherlock. Or maybe you only know half. I'm sure you mean my study partner has been copying me. Speaking of chemistry…now I heard a rumor, tell me if this is true, that Professor Evans has a thing with our lovely Mrs. Walker."
"If you hadn't announced that to our student body the information could have served to secure a passing grade," Sherlock mused. "But yes, obviously - from Mrs. Walker's choice of perfume, a habit she only picked up when becoming Evans secretary. And then there's the lipstick she has taken to wearing – from nude to red. But who would be interested in an old maid? As a recent widower Evans presents an opportunity for financial security and companionship."
William was laughing.
"You can't possibly know that. You must have seen them together or something, Sherlock. Admit it."
Sherlock shrugged.
"I have my methods."
"Yeah, the "science of deduction". Not something they teach at a university. And the reason you're here today. Tell us Sherlock. Is that your secret? I hear you get around campus. Hope you get my drift."
"No idea," Sherlock answered.
William frowned and leaned over to turn off the switch again.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Making a point."
"You agreed to this interview. I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"
They were live once more.
"Before we open the phones I wanted to take a moment to mention Gloria Cunningham," William said. "She's been missing for three days now. Anyone with any information is urged to call NSY immediately. Alright, let's take our first caller!" the phone rang immediately.
"Hello?" a timid voice came over the line.
"You are on the air, babe!" William said.
"Oh, okay. Well. I have a friend, and she wants to know… are you attracted to women or men?"
"What does it matter?" Sherlock asked. "I'm not interested in emotional entanglements."
William chimed in, "Not your area?"
"Goodbye Molly," Sherlock said, hanging up the phone before William could protest.
"And line two," William said, mouthing at Sherlock – what the hell?
"Don't you think it's best to end this discussion?" a familiar voice droned.
"The interview just started," Sherlock smirked.
"I could have the station taken off the air," he threated.
"Can he do that?" William asked. "Who is this?" he demanded.
"A concerned party," the voice answered. "Don't do this, Sherlock," he warned.
"Not your business," Sherlock said.
"Where you're concerned it's always my business."
"I don't think it is."
There was a sigh on the other end of the line and then the sound of the broken connection. William held his hand over his mic.
"That was weird. I mean really weird," William told Sherlock.
"Not for me it wasn't."
"Friend of yours?"
"Next caller," Sherlock said with a frown, pointing to the lit up phone line. William answered. Reluctantly.
"Sherlock! I can't believe they talked you into doing this!"
"Mike," Sherlock allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "Long time listener, first time caller?"
"Won't ask how you knew that. Quick question for you," he said.
"Of course."
"What the hell did you leave in the chemistry lab? You didn't even bother to keep it under the fume hood and now the whole place smells like rotten eggs. I've never seen Evans turn that shade of purple before. Come to think of it, it was almost the same shade as that goop that was leaking all over the counters."
"Oh that. Must have slipped my mind," Sherlock replied.
"I doubt it," Mike laughed. "Well you'll be lucky if he doesn't drop you after this. Anyway, I was calling to let you know they found Gloria yesterday. She's laid up in the hospital but I heard she was fine."
William looked hopeful. The last call seemed tame enough. A few more callers should fill up his time slot nicely.
"I need you down at the station. I didn't know how else to reach you," Lestrade's voice came over the receiver.
"Interesting. Tell me the details. Leave nothing out!"
"Over a public airway? You're joking, right? Besides I don't need input. I got a call from your brother."
"Bastard," Sherlock growled.
"He said, uh… well just come down?" Lestrade asked hopefully.
"No thank you."
"Pease?" Lestrade sounded desperate.
"I'll think about it. Could you hold?" Sherlock asked.
Caller: "I need to know. Is my boyfriend-"
"Yes," Sherlock replied. "Next."
"I think my brother is stealing from my-"
"You're right, he is," Sherlock replied.
"I can't find my-"
"Dull," Sherlock said.
"Missed you at the party," a male voice said. Sherlock sat up straighter and peered into the mic.
"Finally," he muttered.
"I didn't feel like going, Sebastian," Sherlock replied.
"I don't believe that for a minute. It's been too long."
Sherlock drummed his fingers lightly on the table before replying.
"Perhaps. Unfortunately, my last experience was somewhat unpleasant." He sat back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes halfway closed. He could be relaxing. He could be thinking intensely. William thought he knew which it was.
"I want to assure everyone that It won't happen again. That's the only reason I'm calling," Sebastian said quietly. "But you still have some…. responsibility."
"I am not indebted to you in any way."
William was shaking his head frantically. His fingers hovered over the off switch and Sherlock shot him a hard glare. He swiped one hand across his neck and the message was clear. Sherlock could expose his cheating easily. He'd be expelled before he could blink. But this could also lead to expulsion, for all of them.
"This isn't just about you. We both have our-" Sebastian paused, looking for the right word.
"Reputations?" Sherlock supplied. Sebastian was silent.
"Gloria Cunningham," Sherlock said.
"What about her?"
"Stop. Immediately. Your product is dangerous," Sherlock said quietly but clearly.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't done anything wrong," Sebastian insisted.
"Fine. Two students have gone missing in the last two weeks. Do you really want to add murder to your list of crimes? Sloppy job you made of it, burying them so close by."
"That was an accident. An accident!" Sebastian shouted.
"Lestrade, are you still holding?" Sherlock asked.
"Still here."
"I think that's enough to go on, don't you? The address is 201 Meadows Street. I suggest you try the basement – that's where the cocaine is stored."
"You bloody bastard!" Sebastian snarled.
"If you meet me by the library I can take you directly to the bodies," Sherlock continued, ignoring Sebastian's continued cursing in the background.
Then Sherlock was walking out the door, leaving William gaping behind him.
