A.N: Hello my sweet Sherlock loving friends!
Even if I have to admit I am a bit bumped by the low number of reviews BUT the high number of favorite/followers led me to think you're enjoy it. Thanks so much to Georgia for being a Rock Star Beta.
Anyways here is chapter 3 I hope you continue liking it.
I still don't own Sherlock.
Steffy2106
Chapter 3:
"What exactly did you say to her?" John asked as soon as they exited St Bart.
"Nothing! Why do you automatically assume that her mood had anything to do with me? She might be menstruating."
John grimaced as he got into the taxi. "You're such a git sometimes one starts to wonder."
"How can a doctor be so uncomfortable at the mention of women physiology?" Sherlock asked tilting his head in confusion.
"And I believe you are way too comfortable. "
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about John, its nature. Nothing more, nothing less."
"You didn't tell her anything about her fiancé did you? You promised."
"Firstly, I never promised anything. If I recall correctly, which of course I do, I said I wouldn't say a word. I never said that my silence would last forever. But no, I didn't say anything about him." Sherlock looked out of the cab window.
"She's finally moving on, and-"
"Are you serious, John? This man is almost identical to me. She is not moving on, she's in denial."
"Maybe she isn't. Maybe she just has a type." John tried, but his tone was anything but convincing.
Sherlock snorted. "You even called him Sherlock 2.0 behind her back, which is obviously wrong and insulting."
John nodded. "You're right; we shouldn't have done that behind her back. It was quite insulting to her."
"I didn't mean it was insulting to her! It's insulting to me." Sherlock added indignantly as they reached Scotland Yard.
"Why on earth is it insulting to you, Sherlock?"
"Well the simple notion of 2.0 implies that it's a better version than the original and there is no way this man could be better than me in any way, shape or form. I am clearly taller, more attractive and much smarter than him…This 2.0 implication is ridiculous."
"He is certainly 2.0 in the sentiment department. He won't spend his every living moment crushing Molly's heart and just for that, I think he is a 2.0."
"I still disagree with your conclusion. He might be slight more apropos in one area but I win in everything else."
"Yes Sherlock but right now, this 'area' is all that matters."
"It doesn't matter anyway; I have no say in Molly Hooper's life. Now let's concentrate on work John, the matters of the heart hold no interest to my eyes."
"Sure they don't."
"Do you have anything new?" Asked Sherlock, storming into Lestrade's office.
"You could at least knock!"
"Why should I? I could clearly see you were alone in the office and the phone was down. I am not interrupting anything. So?" Sherlock sat down smartly, resting his fingertips under his chin.
Lestrade threw an exasperated glance to John. "That I didn't miss. Anyways, we found the identity of the victim. You were right about her."
"Why do you still sound surprised about these things Jeremy?"
"Greg!"
"Yes Greg. I am always right."
"Show-off" John stage whispered.
Sherlock threw him a dark look. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Lindsey Potter, 31 years old. As you guessed-'
"I don't guess inspector."
"Sorry…. As you deduced, she was from the country side, mid-bourgeoisie. She was quite educated and earned a Masters in Arts from the University of Manchester. She moved to London about two years ago and was working for an art gallery. You only had one thing wrong. "
"That's impossible."
Lestrade had a half smiled. He knew it almost killed Sherlock to be wrong. "Well you told us she was in a serious relationship; however everybody she knew claimed she was single. There is nothing in her flat, computer or phone that suggests the existence of a boyfriend."
"Well they are wrong and I am right."
"Sherlock, it's okay to be wrong every once in a while," said Lestrade, in a tone that one would use when dealing with an impatient child.
"I know it is, I am just not. I'll have to prove it to you. Anyway, what about the witnesses? "
"Well this is more difficult, as you know the abbey is quite closely tied to the royal family and the clergy has always been more or less protected by the power in place. We can ask them for testimonies but there is only so much we can ask them."
"May I interrogate them with you?"
"That is not a good idea, they are already guarded and you… well… don't exactly come across as friendly."
"Do you say that because I consider them as delusional fools who believe in a superior power they have no empiric proof ever existed?"
"Yeah, that's partially it and also because-"
"You're an arsehole." Added John.
Lestrade nodded. "That too."
Sherlock stood up. "So what do we do?"
"You can stay behind the glass, you can see them and here them that's all."
"Father Franklin is waiting for you in interrogation room number 2." Said Donovan, opening the door.
She completely ignored Sherlock and John, which was a step up from her usual disdain, and yet Sherlock found himself suddenly missing it. Her complete lack of intelligence coupled with her impoliteness made her a perfect frustration release for Sherlock.
Sherlock and John stood behind the glass.
"My view from here is quite restricted so therefore my analysis of this man will be impaired." Sherlock said with evident frustration pacing in front of the glass trying to take as much in as he could.
"Don't get worked up, it's just a priest."
"Just a priest? What's that supposed to mean? A priest can't hurt? A priest can't kill? Please John."
Sherlock rested his hands on the glass and concentrated on the priest. "Male, early 30's… based on his bitten nails he has a tendency to stress, he didn't join the orders until quite late in his life, I would say mid-twenties. He comes from a poor family and has a lot of siblings, five I would say. He-" Sherlock stopped. "He just lied," he whispered.
"What?" John asked taking a couple of steps toward Sherlock.
"What did Lestrade just asked him?"
"He asked him if he knew the victim, he answered he never saw her before."
"He lied… He lied!" Sherlock shouted banging loudly on the glass.
Lestrade turned around and glared at the mirror.
"Sherlock! Stop it!" John pulled him away from the window.
Sherlock turned to face John. "He lied! I want to know why." With one fluid movement that would make any ballerina jealous, Sherlock dodged John and left the room.
"Why are you lying?!" He demanded, striding into the interrogation room.
"Sherlock, for the love of-"
Sherlock pointed to the priest. "You know the victim, why are you pretending otherwise?"
The priest visibly paled. "I, no! Why would I lie?"
"I don't know why, I just know you are and I'm asking you why."
"Sherlock! Out!" Lestrade said, pushing him towards the door.
"But-"
"I said out!" He shouted, closing the door loudly in Sherlock face.
"Unbelievable" John growled, shaking his head.
"I know! I come in to save the day and he throws me out."
"No Sherlock, you're unbelievable. You couldn't just stop yourself for a minute could you? Why not wait for Lestrade to be done, huh? No, of course not. The great Sherlock Homes had to make a theatrical entrance! You're such a drama queen!"
Just then, Lestrade erupted from the room, slamming the door behind him. "Thank you ever so much Sherlock, now he's refusing to talk until we call the diocese lawyer. You know what that means? You're just so brilliant."
"But he was lying!"
"So what?"
Sherlock crunched his eyebrows in confusion. "So what? Isn't your role supposed to seek the truth? You might not be very good at it but I'm pretty sure it's what you're supposed to do."
"You scared him, Sherlock. That's not the proper way to deal with things. You should have waited once I was done and tell me. We could have investigated it much more discreetly. Now he knows we know the truth and will hide behind the diocese."
Sherlock shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, he didn't kill the girl."
"Why did you act that way then?!"
"Because he's a drama queen." John stated, still glaring.
"Because he might have a motive. How do you expect me to draw an accurate conclusion if I don't have all the elements?"
"Well good luck for getting them now."
"I don't need luck, I'm Sherlock Holmes, the world's best consulting detective. "
"You're the world ONLY consulting detective, Sherlock."
"It's one and the same John. Lestrade, call me if you have anything. I will contact you as soon as I have figured out the ties between Father Franklin and Ms. Potter."
Sherlock exited Scotland Yard and lit a cigarette before looking up and down the street. "So what do we do now? Follow the priest around? He saw me but he didn't see you."
John glanced down at his watch. "It's getting late, Sherlock. I'm supposed to meet Mary and her sister for dinner in less than 30 minutes."
"Ah yes, the joy of the marital life." Sherlock nodded sarcastically. "Very well John, I will work on the case tonight. I shall see you in the morning."
"Well…"
"What, John?"
"We have an appointment with the caterer at 10. I won't be in before the afternoon."
Sherlock threw away his cigarette and buried his hand in his coat pockets. "You're not married yet and this relationship is getting in the way of our work."
"I'm sure you can deal without me for a few hours."
"Of course I can! I've been doing it for much longer than I've known you. You just help me get my ideas in order."
"Well then, I shouldn't feel guilty. If I'm so irrelevant, maybe I should try to concentrate more on my upcoming wedding instead of only being part of the absolutely necessary. See you in the afternoon, Sherlock."
Sherlock shook his head as he watched John's retreating form. What was up with people today? First Molly, now John. He sighed and started off in the direction of 221B Baker Street. People's feelings were just as confusing, irritating and irrational as ever.
Sherlock spent the whole night looking at the wall where he had put up all the pictures and other elements they had on the case. When the sun started to rise, he wasn't even a step closer to get an answer. Reason why the priest lied? Unknown. Motive behind the girl's murder? Unknown. Reason of the theatrical disposal of the corpse? Unknown.
Sherlock growled, sat on his chair and ruffled his hair. He needed John, or someone of equal intelligence to help him think.
"Have you slept at all, Sherlock?" Asked Mrs. Hudson, entering the flat with a tray containing steaming tea and a couple of crumpets.
"You very well know the answer to that, Mrs. Hudson." Replied Sherlock, not even bothering to look away from his wall.
"Here, you need to eat, have these crumpets. I promised them I'll take care of you."
"Sure…" Sherlock said vaguely. He hadn't listened to a word.
"Oh dear, these are terrible! Why would you put them up on the wall for everyone to see?!"
"Nobody asked you to come up, Mrs. Hudson! If they bother you so much just stay in your flat!" Sherlock snapped, jumping from his chair. He sighed, seeing the hurt in the old lady's face. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson, this case is highly frustrating."
The older lady nodded, patting Sherlock's arm. "I understand, dear. This is such a disturbing case. Killing someone in a church… I almost feel like retrieving my mother's rosary and going to pray for the first time in years."
Sherlock frowned. "Rosary…Rosary…" He let his eyes wander on the pictures to stop on one. "Of course! Mrs Hudson, you're a genius!"
The older lady giggled at Sherlock's complete change of mood. He went from total apathy to completely excited.
At the same time, Sherlock's laptop beeped loudly, announcing new emails. He looked at it:
From: Molly Hooper
Subject: Preliminary autopsy report.
Sherlock scrolled down the report and started to laugh, things were getting clearer now. He grabbed his coat in one hand and a crumpet in the other. "I should be back soon, Mrs. Hudson. Thanks for breakfast!" He added, rushing down the stairs. He might not have John to help him think today but he knew of someone who worked almost as well, a person that never could refuse him anything…Molly Hooper.