Chapter Twenty Four -2010 Consequences
It was Lestrade's worst nightmare. He worked hard to keep an eye on his team, and their record of injuries was testament to his success. The Homicide and Serious Crimes Division was tough enough, but the Murder Investigation Teams were a class unto themselves. Most of the criminals they apprehended were by definition more than willing to use lethal force to resist arrest. Mind you, health and safety was an important part of police training at Hendon College, and the Met put a high premium on ensuring that the public was not harmed by police activity, and that colleagues looked after one another.
Unfortunately for the DI, his civilian consulting detective had not been a graduate of Hendon, and he often drove Lestrade to distraction, as a result. Over the past five years, Sherlock's tendency to go off on his own in pursuit of suspects had led to more than his fair share of knocks, scrapes and bruises, not to mention two broken bones.
No matter how many times he lectured the lanky brunet, Lestrade knew that the temptation would always be there. So, three years ago he instituted a new team procedure. One of the police constables would be tasked with keeping his or her eye on Sherlock at a crime scene and if he went off on his own, to follow closely and serve as backup.
Sally Donovan was the one who called it "babysitting". Lestrade couldn't stop the team from using the pejorative phrase amongst themselves, but he made it absolutely clear that it could never be used in the earshot of the individual concerned, unless the person wanted an official reprimand on their file.
Tonight, however, he was beginning to see Sally's point of view. It had been like dozens of earlier cases- a baffled team standing around late at night eying an unnamed unidentified dead body, while Sherlock unleashed his deductive observations. "You're looking for a suspect who is approximately six foot tall, and nearly 200 pounds. The fact that he lifted the body from the car and carried it a good forty feet to this waste ground from the nearest road is sign of considerable upper body strength.. He's left handed, and works in manual labour, most likely to be a plumber, given the weapon is a pipe bender."
The Forensic Crime Scene Examiner looked puzzled at this last statement, and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh, do keep up, Jeffries; the wound is clearly caused by a blunt instrument and the copper shavings beside the body are highly indicative of piping rubbish that clogs up a bender. This is hardly rocket science." Lestrade was just thankful it wasn't Anderson who had been assigned to the crime; Sherlock would have been far ruder if that had been the case.
"You need to look on the traffic cameras for a plumber's van in the vicinity, during the hours of four to six pm, and that will start your process of elimination. A door-to-door canvass should reveal where he was working and possibly get you an ID for the body. " Lestrade stepped in at this moment and assigned roles to the Sally and the two PCs, on the case. It was late, so they'd need to work fast on the door to door work; too many people would refuse to answer their doors if it got much later, even to the police. It was a tough neighbourhood.
Jeffries continued his processing of the body, bagging the hands and feet to protect any trace, and unzipping the body bag that would be used to transport the dead man to the morgue. Sherlock just watched, and then turned away, lost in thought. Lestrade asked Sally if she thought there was any connection between this murder and the body they had found on a construction site six weeks ago. That case had turned up no clues as to why the electrician would have been killed; their investigation turned up no motive or viable suspects. Sally was mulling over the idea when Lestrade heard the tell-tale "OH!"
Sally flinched at the sound of Sherlock's exclamation. "God, he sounds like he just had an orgasm or something. I've always said he gets off on this stuff." Lestrade grimaced, by but the time he'd turned around, Sherlock was more than half-way across the waste ground and gathering speed. In the darkness, it was hard to see where he was headed.
"Roberts! Get after him, will you!?" Lestrade glared at the newest PC on the team, who'd only been in post for three weeks, and had not yet had a stint on Sherlock watch.
By the time the constable had reached the fence on the far side, Sherlock had vanished. Roberst looked back at the pool of crime scene lights, and wondered what he was supposed to do now. When he used his airwave to tell Sally that he'd lost track of Holmes, the news was greeted by an expletive, and he heard her call out "Lestrade, he's done it again, run off. Why the hell he can't tell somebody what's going on, I don't know. He's just a liability; we can't afford to spend police time chasing after him when goes off on a whim like this. Roberts is needed for the door-to-door."
Lestrade came onto the radio. "Tell me what direction he was headed in, Roberts; what was he doing?"
"Can't say, Guv' it's too bloody dark! He was gone by the time I reached the fence; there's a ripped bit, and my guess is he just hot through, but there's any one of a half a dozen different directions- buildings, houses, and it's an intersection of two streets, so God knows where. I'm sorry. I just didn't realise he was so quick."
He heard the sigh. "Come back now, Roberts. And get instructions from Donovan about which houses to do your door to door canvassing."
Greg dug his phone out of his pocket and hit Sherlock's number on speed dial. No reply. He texted.
10.43pm Where are you? GL
10.45pm Sherlock, what's going on? What are you investigating? GL
10.48pm Answer your bloody phone!
10.50 Are you alright? If no reply, will have to call in BB
That was Greg's final warning, and one he hated to use. But at 11pm, he gave up and called Mycroft's number.
The usual female voice answered on the second ring. "Detective Inspector, how may I help?"
"Have you got eyes on Sherlock? He's just gone AWOL from a crime scene and won't or can't answer his phone. That makes me worried."
"Hold on, please."
She came back on less than a minute later. "We have a problem, Detective Inspector. He was tracked seven minutes ago on the CCTV on Cuthbert Place, running north, but not pursued. However, none of the next cameras within a radius of 800 meters has picked him up yet, and one of them should have by now. Suggest you investigate there. I will be informing Mr Holmes, our team and SO6. You're closer, so take action now." The line went dead.
Shit. This was Lestrade's nightmare, and it was happening now for real.
