Chapter Six-
After having found the pink suitcase not far from the house, Sherlock had raced home and searched the contents not finding the woman's phone or her planner. That meant that the woman had somehow left it on the murderer. Once he had realized that, it didn't take Sherlock very long to find her number. Now all he needed was John to hurry up and get there so that he could continue with his plan to catch the killer.
It had taken him having to ask John three times for his phone and not receiving an answer from the Omega for him to realize that John wasn't even there with him. He had left him at that crime scene. With a sigh, Sherlock had pulled out his phone and texted the Omega. When he didn't receive a reply after a couple of minutes, he sent another text. Only to repeat the process a third and final time.
Finally, 20 minutes after the finale text, John entered the flat. But by that point, Sherlock had been bored enough to stick three nicotine patches on his arm to help not only keep the boredom at bay but help him think. It helped, a little, but it would not shut up the nagging feeling that something had happened to John. Yet, the second John's scent hit his nose, the nagging feeling left.
"What are you doing?" John asked, and normally Sherlock wouldn't answer a question like that, but seeing as John had asked, it wouldn't hurt to answer him.
"Nicotine patch." He said showing the patches to the Omega. "Helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work."
"It's good news for breathing." John muttered and Sherlocke rolled his eyes while groaning at that cliche answer, he knew John could do better than that.
"Breathing! Breathing's boring." Sherlock told him.
"Is that three patches?" John asked limping over to him and Sherlock had to bite back the urge to glare at the cane. He knew John could walk without either the limp or cane, he just needed to prove it to John. Now he would need to figure how to go about doing that.
"It's a three-patch problem." Sherlock told the Omega stapling his hands under his chin to try and come up with a plan to show John he could walk without letting John know that was what he was doing. Proving to John that he could walk without a limp wouldn't work if John figured out that was what Sherlock was doing.
"Well?" John asked and for a split second Sherlock feared that John had already caught on. "You asked me to come, I'm assuming it's important." The case! John was talking about the case!
"Oh. Yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?" Sherlock asked forcing his mind back on the case. John's limp could come after the case, or at least until after he had sent the text message he needed to.
"My phone?" John asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion as his mind tried to race to figure out what Sherlock already knew.
"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that my number will be recognized. It's on the website." Sherlock said.
"Mrs Hudson's got a phone." John pointed out.
"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear." Sherlock said.
"I was on the other side of London..." John hissed at him making Sherlock wonder what he was doing there.
"There was no hurry." But as Sherlock said this, he realized it was only partially true. It was true there was no hurry regarding the case, but once Sherlock had realized John wasn't with him, he had wanted John with him as soon as possible. John sighed and pulled out his phone.
"Here." He said holding it out for Sherlock to take, which he did. "So what's this about. The case?"
"Her case..." Sherlock told him.
"Her case?" John asked.
"Her suitcase, yes, obviously." Sherlock said. "The murderer took her suitcase, first big mistake." An idea popped into his mind and he tried to find if there was any other way to go about this, when no other idea came, Sherlock knew that this was the best way to go. "It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it." He muttered to himself before shelving the thought and turned his attention back to John and the case. "On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text." He ordered holding out John's phone to the Omeaga as he began to figure out how to go about his idea.
"You've brought me here to send a text?" John asked bringing him back to the case.
"Text, yes. The number on my desk." Sherlock said as a plan started to slowly form. John took his phone back from Sherlock as he took a deep breath, catching a faint yet very familiar scent on John. That scent sent Sherlock's mind into over drive. It couldn't be possible? Why was that scent there? It shouldn't be there! That scent should never be on John! Sherlock was barely able to fight the urge to jump up and replace that scent with his own.
He tried to force himself to go back to thinking about either the case or his plan, but that scent on John was making it very hard. Sherlock was suddenly hyper aware of John and his pacing between his spot in front of Sherlock and checking out the window for something. Did John think that he would suddenly appear? Though, Sherlock didn't put it past him.
"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked.
"Just met a friend of yours." John informed him. Friend? He was calling himself Sherlock's friend now?
"A friend?" Sherlock growled out.
"An enemy." John corrected "Well, according to him, your arch-enemy." John corrected. "Do people have arch-enemies?" Sherlock growled out checking John over, needing to see that John was alright. Tight lipped. He was stressed. Gipping his cane so hard that his knuckles are white. He was distressed, upset, or both. At seeing that, Sherlock couldn't fight the urge to be next to John and shot off the couch. He gently grabbed John by the shoulders and turned him so that the Omega was now looking at him.
"He won't hurt you, John." Sherlock told him firmly.
"I know he can't hurt me." John said and Sherlock shook his head.
"Oh he can hurt you, but he won't." Sherlock growled out and became annoyed when John's distress and anger refused to leave. Sherlock looked at John again, what was it that was distressing and upsetting John so much? And then he saw it. "He offered you money to spy on me." John's distress and anger rose.
"Yes." John growled out.
"Did you take it?" Sherlock asked quietly and once again John's distress and anger rose.
"Who do you thinking I am! No I didn't take it!" John hissed out glaring at him. A strange, warm feeling swept through Sherlock at the knowledge that John was angry and distressed for him. John was angry that anyone would dare to pay some to spy on Sherlock. He was distressed just knowing there was someone out there willing to do just that. Sherlock sighed and, for reasons he couldn't come up with, wrapped his arms around John in a hug, resting his ching on the top of John's head.
"Pity, we could have split the fee." He joked and wondered if he had made the situation worse when John tensed, before relaxing with a laugh. Right, John was better, back to the case. Slowly, almost as if he were reluctant, Sherlock removed his arms from around John and took a step back, taking a few sniffs as he did. He became very pleased with himself when his scent was the only thing he could smell on John.
"Who is he?" John asked.
"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now." Sherlock growled out. "On my desk, the number!" He ordered walking back over to the couch.
"Jennifer Wilson. That was..." Sherlock could hear the minute John's brain connected the pieces as he looked around the room and finally spotted the suitcase. "That's..."
"Yes, that's the woman's number. Yes, that's her suitcase. Can we please move on." Sherlock said.
"Alright." John muttered.
"These words exactly. 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland St. Please come.'" Sherlock recited.
"You blacked out?" John asked in concern.
"What? No... No!" Sherlock sighed and stood up from the couch once more and quickly made his way over to John, stepping on the coffee table to do so. "Type and send it. Quickly."
"Sent. Now, tell me why you have the pink lady's- why you have Jennifer Wilson's case." John demanded.
"I didn't kill her." Sherlock informed him angrily as he moved to crouch on his chair while looking at the suitcase sitting on a kitchen chair he had dragged in there earlier that evening.
"I never said you did." John told him honestly sending another wave of that strange, warm feeling through Sherlock again.
"Why not? Given that text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case it's a perfectly logical assumption." Sherlock said, part of him wanted John to accuse him already and be done with it while another part was desperate for John to believe him.
"I'm fairly sure you must have found it. What I want to know is why you haven't turned it over to the police." John told him softly causing Sherlock to want to jump up and kiss John for believing in him, but he refrain. He didn't want John to get the wrong idea. He wasn't looking for a Mate. "Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" John asked as if sensing his thoughts.
"Now and then, yes." Sherlock admitted and had to fight back a smile when he saw John getting angry and annoyed on his behalf. It felt... nice to have someone do that.
"So, where did you find this?" John asked limping over to the chair that was quickly becoming his chair in Sherlock's mind.
"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to themselves, particularly a man, which is statistically more likely. So obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it. The moment he noticed he still had it, wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake." Sherlock said looking away from the case to glance at John and nearly lost his thought when he saw the amazed look on John's face and in his eyes. He had never met anyone who thought his ability to read things and people as amazing as John did. People only ever hated him for it. Yet this Omega, this man, was amazed by it, by him.
At the crime scene when John had unknowingly been whispering out his amazement at Sherlock's deductions and giving him a high that he had never be able to achieve before, he knew then that he wanted to keep John. He want John to stay with him for as long as his deductions continued to amaze the man. Maybe even after. Sherlock was very possessive of what was his. He may not have very many things, but what he did have was his. And John was quickly becoming his.
"I checked every backstreet wide enough for a car," Sherlock continued hoping that John didn't catch the hitch in his breath or the slight airiness to his tone, "five minutes from Lauriston Gardens, and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."
"Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?" John asked with a soft smile.
"Well, it had to be pink, obviously." Sherlock said.
"I didn't realize that the case would be pink until you said so back at the crime scene." John muttered.
"That's because you're an idiot." Sherlock said automatically. "But you're already miles a head of Lestrade and his team of idiots. They haven't even figured out the color of the case." He added quickly.
"I'm taking that's a complement coming from you?" John asked with a laugh.
"Now, look. Do you see what's missing?" Sherlock asked. John would figure it out because his John was smart. He watch John opened his mouth before shutting it and began to look at the case. Come on John, it's obvious. It's right there. You see it.
"The phone?" John asked looking away from the case to Sherlock who smiled proudly at him.
"Her phone." Sherlock agreed. "Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there's no phone in the case." He watched John's mind began to race, looking at all the puzzle pieces scattered about and trying to put them together. Usually Sherlock would just tell the person the answer, but right now he wanted to see how long it would take John to figure it out. "We know she had one. That's her number there. You just texted it."
"The murderer has it." John whispered as a flash of fear flew through his eyes. But before Sherlock could even think about calming that fear, it was gone and John was laughing. "I just texted a murderer." The laughter was suddenly gone. "How is he going to react when he gets a text from someone he believes is dead?" Just then the phone rang.
"I thank that's our answer, John." Sherlock said. "A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her." John locked uncertain eyes with him. "If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignored a text like that, but the murderer... would panic."
"Have you talked to the police?" John asked as Sherlock shot out of his chair and threw on his suit jacket.
"Four people are dead, there's isn't time to talk to the police." Sherlock informed him.
"So why are you talking to me?" John asked. Why wouldn't Sherlock want to talk to him? John was interesting and found his deductions amazing rather than annoying. But he couldn't let John know that, he might get the wrong idea.
"Mrs Hudson took my skull." Sherlock said nodding towards the mantel where his skull had once been before Mrs Hudson had cleaned and straightened up. Sherlock opened the coat closet and took his and John's coats out.
"So, I'm basically filling in for your skull?" John asked with an amused smile.
"Relax, you're doing fine." Sherlock joked slipping on his coat before holding John's coat out for him. "Well?"
"Well, what?" John asked staring curiously at his coat in Sherlock's hand.
"Well, you could just sit there and watch telly." Sherlock said growling out the last word.
"Sherlock, do you want me to come with you?" John asked suddenly making Sherlock nervous.
"I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud." He admitted. "The skill just attracts attention, so..." He joked happy when John laughed. "Problem?" He asked when John still hadn't gotten up to take his coat.
"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan." John said and Sherlock growled. What had that stupid Beta woman told his John? If she scared John away from him, he would make her life a living hell.
"What about her?" Sherlock asked.
"She said..." John started only to stop and look away. Was he trying to gather up the curage or stifle any rage he felt from whatever she had told him. "She said you get off on this. You enjoy it."
"And I said 'dangerous,' and here you are." Sherlock countered before moving over to John and gently pulled him out of the chair. Within seconds, Sherlock had John in his coat and was leading him out of the flat. His plan was set in motion. He would kill two birds with one stone.
Sherlock, keeping a steady pace that was neither too fast nor too slow for John, lead the Omega down the street towards Angelo's while texting Angelo that he would be needing his window table and to be expecting him and a date. He was pretty sure that John hadn't had dinner yet. He couldn't have John passing out from malnutrition. John wasn't like him, he needed to eat regularly.
"Where are we going?" John asked.
"Northumberland St's a five minute walk from here." Sherlock said.
"You think he's stupid enough to go there?" John asked.
"No, I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They're all so desperate to get caught." Sherlock informed him.
"Why?" John asked.
"Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius, John, it need and audience." Sherlock said.
"I'm starting to see that." John muttered with a smile.
"This is his hunting ground. Right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go. Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know? Who?" John asked.
"Haven't the faintest. Hungry?" Sherlock asked before leading him into Angelo's and to the seat he had requested. "Thank you, Billy." Sherlock nodded to the waiter before taking off his coat and scarf and sat so that he could watch the street. "22 Northumberland St. Keep your eyes on it." He ordered as John got comfortable.
"He's not just going to ring the doorbell. He'd need to be mad." John told him.
"He has killed four people." Sherlock reminded John.
"Right." John said as Angelo made his way to them.
"Sherlock!" He cried out happily shaking Sherlock's hand. "Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free. On the house, for you and your date." He continued handing them the menus. And Sherlock knew he should correct Angelo that this wasn't actually a date, but he just couldn't make himself do so. Part of him wanted it to be a date.
"Do you want to eat?" Sherlock asked just before John could go into shock.
"I'm not his date." John muttered awkwardly. It hurt to hear John say that, did John not want to be his date?
"This man got me off a murder charge." Angelo informed John as he shakily began to look at the menu, face blank yet mind running. What was he thinking? Had Sherlock made him mad? Had he messed up?
"This is Angelo." Sherlock introduced. "Three years ago I proved to Lestrade at the time of particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking." He informed forcing his mind away from John to watch the street.
"He cleared my name." Angelo bragged.
"I cleared it a bit." Sherlock corrected "Anything happening opposite?"
"Nothing." Angelo told him before going back to John. "But for this man, I'd have gone to prison."
"You did go to prison." Sherlock once again corrected as John smiled at him.
"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic." Angelo said before leaving. John opened his mouth, probably to correct him again, only to sigh and close his mouth.
"Am I your date?" John asked and Sherlock stiffened up. He knew he should say no, that if he didn't John would get the wrong idea, but for the first time in his life he didn't want to say no.
"Do you want to be?" Sherlock asked in a guarded voice.
"I-" John started before stopping to gather his thoughts, Sherlock let him as he continued to stare out the window. "You don't want a Mate." At that Sherlock looked at John. So John knew about that. "Mike informed me of that. And well, I'm... I'm-"
"You're not broken." Sherlock told him firmly. "You're wounded, not broken." It was silent between them before Sherlock forced himself to look back at the street as he pushed his menu away from him. "Eat. We might have a long wait." Angelo came back and placed a non-scented candle in the middle of their table.
"Thanks." John told him before looking at the menu. After John placed an order of pasta they sat in silence for a couple minutes with half of Sherlock's brain focused on watching the street and the other half wondering what John was thinking about. "People don't have arch-enemies." John suddenly said catching Sherlock off guard after he had gotten his food.
"I'm sorry?" He asked looking at him.
"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen." John said with an amused smile.
"Doesn't it?" Sherlock asked going back to watching the street. "Sounds a bit dull." He wanted John to drop this subject.
"So who did I meet?" John asked, his tone telling him he would not drop the subject until he got his answer.
"What do real people have, then, in their real lives?" He asked.
"Friends. People they know, people they like, people they don't like." John trailed off.
"Yes, well, as I was saying... dull." Sherlock said.
"What are we?" John asked suddenly, "Because you obviously called a head of time, before I got there and reserved this table for us, with me as your date. Yet, you don't want a Mate. I'm telling you now, Sherlock, one of these days I want to find a Mate that can over look my-"
"I don't know." Sherlock growled out, the thought of John with someone else angered him for reasons he did not want to admit to. Something about John made Sherlock want to be with him. He knew he should hate that, knew he should push John away like he did everyone else that tried to get too close, yet, he couldn't. He wanted John to be close to him. "I just... I don't know. I've never wanted a Mate. Never wanted to get close to anyone. This is new."
"Okay." John said taking a bite of his food. Sherlock tore his eyes off John eating and looked out the window to notice a taxi idling in front of the address he had given the murderer.
"Look across the street. Taxi. It's stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out." John turned to look. "Why a taxi? Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?"
"That's him." John said
"Don't stare." Sherlock told him.
"But you're staring." John pointed out.
"We can't both stare." Sherlock argued before grabbing his coat and scarf and running out the door, pausing long enough for John to catch up before taking off after the taxi as it began to move.