The Investigation of Missing Margaret Holmes

by marval3

Margaret Holmes simply wanted to visit her brothers, who were both too preoccupied with work to pay her any mind. After an unfortunate turn of events Margaret is taken by a serial killer Sherlock and John were already investigating. Time is running out for the middle Holmes sibling, and doubt begins to flourish if the only way she'll be found is as another victim.

11. Chapter 11

sᴀᴛᴜʀᴅᴀʏ 2:21 ᴀᴍ

John's phone went to voicemail again. Sherlock hardened his gaze at his phone, tossing it onto the coffee table.

"Perhaps he's asleep." Mycroft suggested nonchalantly.

"Not likely."

Despite Sherlock being miffed over John not answering his phone, Mycroft saw that he appeared to be doing better than he was when he'd arrived. He decided he couldn't wait any longer and launched a conversation starter,

"Would you care to be more specific about what happened to Millie?"

Sherlock glanced his brother's way. "Weeks ago I was brought on an ongoing investigation into a serial killer. It's amazing how careful he is, not even I have been able to find anything. There's nothing in common with the victims, they're plucked across London, social status is not a factor. No cameras and no records of anyone seeing anything at the time the body was dumped. The corpse itself is impeccably clean; aside from it being covered in wounds, there's no DNA, defensive wounds, nothing to tie back to the killer. The victims aren't reported missing as they were in situations where no one would worry for them, they appear dead days later." Sherlock's expression turned flat. "And that's how Margaret will be found unless I can find him. He's disappointed I've taken this long to catch him. With the right motivation, he thinks I'll summon a notion."

Mycroft swallowed the lump in his throat. The outlook wasn't too good.

"At least Millie has people looking for her, think of it as a head start." He offered to his brother, who no doubt needed something to cheer him up — though Mycroft hated giving words of comfort so his words sounded forced.

Sherlock rolled his eyes slightly. "It's not a head start if she's already dead."

Mycroft's brows raised high. "Is that what you think?" Sherlock didn't acknowledge the question, only continued to glare straight ahead. Mycroft stood, grabbing his coat from the armchair in a smooth motion and walking over to the door. "I'll have my own people looking for her. When you're done moping around, no doubt she'll appreciate the help."

He twisted the door handle, flinging it open. As Mycroft went to take a step out he jerked aside, almost colliding with the figure lingering in the doorway. He regarded John for a moment, offered a word of condolence, then was on his way.