I am so shocked and appalled that I had not seen Sherlock yet! Especially with how much I like Benedict Cumberbatch. My host family makes it an occasion on Christmas Day to watch through the first two seasons of Sherlock and I am absolutely hooked! Ever since Christmas I've been watching Sherlock on repeat and I needed to write a story asap puddin's! Hope you enjoy! xoxo
Céline Brown was taking a taxi in to work early. She wore her usual, a calf-length black mock neck dress with sheer black tights, black Oxford heels, and her thin trench coat. Her long brown hair was tied into a curly ponytail and her bangs curled around her face. She wore simple makeup. Just foundation, a simple brown smokey eye, as well as a sheer cherry colored lip rouge. Céline had gotten a call that morning from Lestrade, her colleague, and boss. She was also a detective and worked under him as an assistant detective inspector on the Scotland Yard.
She had wanted to work for the Scotland Yard since she was very young. When she was 11 she witnessed her father murder her mother and it had profoundly affected her wish to be a detective inspector.
The past couple months the Scotland Yard had been dealing with, what appeared to be, a case of serial suicides. Early that morning a third one had been reported and they were to give a press conference with Sally Donovan at 8 am.
When Céline got to work she quickly went to her desk when suddenly her phone beeped. It was his ringtone, Sherlock Holmes's. She took out her phone and read the text.
They aren't suicides. I have been reading up in the papers. Taking care of my own case this morning, cannot make it to official press appearance.
Sherlock Holmes had targeted Céline as the one person on the Scotland Yard team that was overtly open about respecting him and asking for his assistance. He saw her as an ally of sorts and always felt comfortable texting her and consulting with her before Lestrade officially asked him for help. Even outside of case solving the two were relatively acquainted. He would often spend time at her apartment when he needed a change of scenery and she would help him occasionally with mundane odds and ends that he didn't want to take care of on his own. The had met 5 years prior when Sherlock worked on his first case at the Scotland Yard.
Céline sighed, she set her coffee and bag down. As she prepared to text back Lestrade approached her desk.
"Céline, we are doing a debriefing before the press conference. We're set to start in five minutes." He spoke, passing her a file folder with the information from the new suicide case.
"Thank you, Lestrade I will meet you there." Céline replied. Lestrade nodded and left to go and set up the conference room. Céline quickly drafted up a reply.
That was my hypothesis as well. I will suggest it before we get to the conference.
Once she sent the text Sherlock replied instantly.
I knew you would see it too.
She shoved her phone into the pocket of her trench coat and pulled out her leather work folio from her handbag. She placed the file Lestrade gave her inside. She then grabbed her coffee and went to the conference room. When Céline entered the conference room. Sally and Lestrade were speaking. Sally looked her up and down.
"Good morning, Céline." Lestrade spoke as Céline sat down.
"Good morning." She replied.
"So let's get started." Sally snapped. Céline opened the new file.
"Our plan is to keep things vague and discuss the links between the three. We are operating as if they are suicides…" Lestrade began.
"But is that a good idea?" Céline asked. "Anyone who has read the paper today would know that they really don't sound like sucides, Lestrade." Sally was visibly annoyed at the question.
"Is that your boyfriend's theory?" Sally snapped at Céline. "There is no evidence to prove they aren't suicides."
"Sherlock Holmes is not my boyfriend and no it is my own theory Sally." Céline calmly replied. She was not about to tell Sally and Lestrade about the texts that morning.
"Sally…" Lestrade warned. "Céline has a point. However, we want to operate on this angle to prevent any public panic as we continue our investigation. Sally and I are going to be primarily speaking. But I also ask that you sit on the panel."
"Yes, that is fine with me." Céline replied.
Once they finished debriefing the information the three of them went downstairs. Céline tossed her old coffee and went to the little coffee shop on the bottom floor of the Scotland Yard office building. The press were checking in and getting settled in. As she waited for her coffee she texted Sherlock.
Suggested it. They still want to go with the suicide story to the press.
She saw him view the message. Then she saw a bubble come up for him typing. Then she saw the bubble go away and she got no reply. She grabbed her coffee and then joined Sally and Lestrade on the panel. After a few moments camera's were flashing and everyone settled down.
"The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide. We can confirm this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is on-going, but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now." Sally spoke. The reporters exploded with questions. Finally, one was chosen to get the microphone. The intern rushed over to pass it over.
"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?" The reporter asked.
In another area of town, Sherlock was at the hospital. He waited around at the check in where a T.V. was playing the press conference live. Once he got Céline's text he had prepared a group chat of all the reporters in attendance. He was annoyed that they had still decided to go with the suicide conclusion.
"They all took the same poison. They were all found in places they had no reason to be, none of them had shown any prior indication of…" Lestrade began.
"But you can't have serial suicides." Another reporter shouted, cutting Lestrade off. Lestrade furrowed his brow.
"Apparently you can." Lestrade retorted. He shared a knowing look with Céline.
Sherlock saw the look between the two on the television screen and frowned, he typed out a message, waiting for the right moment to send it.
"These three people…there's nothing that links them?" Another reporter asked as the mic was passed.
"There's no link we've found yet, but we're looking for it…there has to be one." As Lestrade spoke the reporters went to write the answer to the question down. However, suddenly, a chorus of phone rings all went off with every phone in the room. Everyone but Céline and Lestrade checked their phones, they were both certain of who it was.
Wrong.
Sally frowned when she saw the message and slammed her phone down on the desk.
"If you've all got texts, please ignore them." Sally spoke up.
"It just says wrong." One of the reporters observed. Sherlock was watching closely.
"Yeah, well just ignore that." Sally spoke up again. "Look If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade, I'm going to bring this session to an end." The reporters all protested and another one was passed the microphone.
"If they're suicides, what are you investigating?" Another reporter asked.
Sherlock's eyes wandered to Céline. She was taking notes in her folio, mulling over the new file Lestrade had passed her that morning. He made a note to stop by her house that evening to get the new information from her.
"As I say, these suicides are clearly linked, this is an unusual situation, and we have our best people investigating." Lestrade spoke. As Sherlock heard him he quickly send another text. Céline looked up from her writing as another chorus of text's rang. This time she stuck her pocket into her trench coat and pulled out her phone. She cracked a small amused smile at the text.
"Says wrong again." A reporter shouted out. This time Lestrade and Sally were both visibly angry.
"One more question." Sally snapped, ignoring the reporter and the text. The microphone was passed to a female reporter.
"Is there any chance these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?" The reporter asked.
"I know you like writing about those, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference…the poison was clearly self-administered." Lestrade responded. Céline could see that Lestrade was getting more upset.
"Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?" The female reporter pressed.
"Don't commit suicide." Lestrade sarcastically replied, Sally whispered something to him and he took a deep breath, rolling his eyes. "Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be." Once Lestrade spoke the reporters began to furiously write his quote down when all of a sudden another text tone chorus rang through the room. Céline looked at her phone again and saw she had received a different text outside of the group chat from Sherlock.
Working with a riding crop and corpse. Won't be able to reply until this evening. Text with updates.
Sally noticed Céline looking at her phone, she appeared to be typing a reply, and Sally frowned. She knew that she had to be texting Sherlock back.
Once the conference was over, Sherlock headed down to the morgue with his riding crop and Lestrade, Sally, and Céline all returned to their offices. As they got on the elevator and as the door to it closed Sally crossed her arms.
"You've got to stop him from doing that. He's making us look like idiots." Sally furiously demanded. Lestrade put his arms up defensively.
"You tell me how he does it and I'll stop him." Lestrade replied. Sally immediently looked at Céline.
"I'm sure we could find out how he does it…" Sally snapped at Céline. Once the elevator opened Céline left without a word.
"Stop picking on Céline." Lestrade scolded Sally as they all returned to their desks. Celine unpacked all of the files and was looking through everything. She noticed that in all of the cases the victims had taken a taxi and she noticed a couple odds and ends that might relate them. She made a note of it and pulled out her phone, texting Sherlock.
Sherlock heard the text but didn't check it. He was busy working on a private case. He unzipped a body bag and studied the body. Molly Hooper was standing opposite him.
"How fresh?" Sherlock asked.
"Just in. 67, natural causes. Used to work here, donated his body. I knew him. He was nice." Molly sadly spoke.
"Fine." He replied, smiling. "We'll start with the riding crop then."
Molly looked horrified but left him alone, she walked by and saw him beating the body with it. When he appeared to be done she came in after having applied some lipstick. She had a large crush on him and had been planning to ask him for coffee and she reasoned that today could be the day.
"So. Bad day, was it?" She jokingly spoke. He ignored her joke and set the riding crop aside, pulling out his phone to read Céline's text.
"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. Text me." Sherlock spoke as he continued to read through the updates Céline had sent over.
"Listen, I was wondering, maybe later, when you're finished…" Molly began before he could leave. Sherlock looked up at her, he quickly noticed her lipstick.
"Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before." He observed. Molly blushed.
"I just ... refreshed it a bit." Molly nervously spoke. Sherlock perked an eyebrow.
"Sorry, you were saying?" He curtly spoke.
'I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?" She asked. He appreciated the gesture but misunderstood that it was Molly's way of asking him on a date.
"Black, two sugars, please I'll be upstairs." He replied, not looking up from his phone, texting Céline back and leaving for the upstairs lab.
Later that day, Céline was in the break room warming up her lunch. Sally came in to get hers from the fridge and glared at her.
"How is the conspiracy research coming?" Sally coldly spoke.
"Just fine, thank you," Céline replied, her kind tone dripping with annoyance. Sally rolled her eyes. Céline quickly left back to her desk. Lestrade was sitting in her seat waiting for her.
"Hello, Céline. I just wanted to come and see how things were going." He smiled, getting up from her chair so she could sit. Céline set her lunch down and then went into her folio, searching for a draft she had typed up. "Also…I wanted to say. I'm sorry about Sally."
"Oh, it's alright Lestrade." Céline replied, handing him a compilation of evidence.
"Céline please, it's Greg." He replied, his voice softening a bit. Céline frowned at him.
"Lestrade. I shouldn't call you that and you know it. It would be the only woman on the force to." Céline spoke. Lestrade looked over the evidence.
"Well…what if I'm okay with that?" He asked, in almost a whisper. Céline blushed. Lestrade had been pursuing her for the last couple of months. While she did have a small crush on him, she always tried to avoid the subject since he had a wife.
"Is your wife alright with that?" Céline asked. Lestrade shrugged, preparing to make a copy of the evidence list she compiled.
"She's been sleeping with the local PE teacher, she met him at the grocery store." Lestrade sadly replied. He gave Céline back her original copy and took the new copy. Leaving back to his office.
When Céline left work that evening she made a quick stop at the grocer before coming home. She had one paper bag of groceries that she carried into her flat. When she got inside to her door she noticed that the door had been picklocked open and was unlocked. She rolled her eyes and stormed into her apartment.
"You can't just wait outside for me to get here?" She snapped at Sherlock, setting her grocery bag and handbag down on the counter. She then took off her trench coat off, hanging it by the door. Sherlock was sitting on her couch.
"But that's not as fun...plus you took a little longer than usual." He smirked, standing up and walking over to her kitchen counter. Céline lived in a one bedroom flat in London. It was a 5 minute walk from 221b Baker Street. Her house was very sparsely decorated and was pretty empty.
In her living room, she had a small tv mounted on the wall and a single couch. She also had a single bookshelf beside the couch that was overflowing with books as well as a few stack of books on her coffee table.
Her bedroom had a bed centered on the back wall, a side table, a large window with dark purple velvet drapes, a full body mirror leaning against the wall and a clothing rack.
In the kitchen there was a bowl of fruit on the island that always remained empty, there were also two stools so the island could be used as a table.
"At this rate, I should just make you a key," Céline grumbled as she washed her lunch containers and dried them.
"Maybe you should?" Sherlock suggested. Céline shot him a look. "I have a flatmate now."
"Oh really?" She asked, pulling out some pasta and vegetables she had made the previous evening out of the fridge. She turned on the stove and began to heat up the leftovers in a pan.
"Yes, he's a war doctor. I think he would be useful. Now maybe I'll have a forensic's person who wants to work with me." Sherlock spoke. "Was there anything else from today?"
"Check my folio it's in my handbag." She replied. Sherlock eagerly opened her purse and removed the leather folio. He opened it and then sat down on one of the stools reading through it. Céline took out two plates from the cupboard and split up the leftovers between them. She brought cutlery over with the plates and sat beside Sherlock. He quickly took the plate.
"Thank you." He excitedly spoke before beginning to eat as he looked over the notes. Céline ate with him and watched him as he studied the papers.
Her phone suddenly rang during the meal and she checked it, it was Lestrade asking if she wanted to go have dinner with him. Sherlock curiously watched her once her phone rang. He had memorized all of her different ringtones for each person in her phone and knew it was Lestrade. He also noticed her face wrinkle up in both annoyance and sadness. She typed out a polite decline. He decided to not ask her about it.
"Céline?" Sherlock spoke up.
"Yes?" She asked, not looking up from her phone as she typed.
"So, Miss. Hudson won't let me move my things in from storage until tomorrow morning." He began. Céline finished typing out the response and stood up, taking both of their empty plates to the sink to wash them.
"You can sleep on the couch." She replied. Sherlock smiled, she was almost as sharp as he was.
"Thank you." Sherlock replied. He took his shoes off at the door and went over to the couch, lying down and reading through the case files. After dinner, Céline went to take a shower. She emerged an hour later. She was in a bathrobe and her hair was wet.
"Does everything make sense?" Céline asked him as she walked to the fridge to get a bottle of water.
"Your notes make sense, the case almost does." Sherlock responded. Her folio was sitting on his chest and he was laying there staring up at the ceiling in thought.
"Well, I'm going to bed. I have an early morning again." Céline spoke, leaving off to her room. "Knock if you need anything." She shouted before shutting the door.