The great consulting detective threw himself into a tireless frenzy of research, and for the next few days ate little and slept less. As usual after long periods of boredom, when he finally got a case, he worked almost non stop. His mood was much improved, one could even say inappropriately cheerful, considering the details of the case.
He feverishly reviewed all of the evidence on the case so far (supplied reluctantly by DI Dimmock) and replayed all of the video footage of Karl Hunter that he could find. John helped in his usual way, applying his common sense and methodically digging through all of the evidence to date. Even if he didn't possess the same radical deductive reasoning skills as Sherlock, it was often the combination of abilities that made them so successful as a team.
On Friday morning, Sherlock was up early. In fact when John came into the living room, Sherlock was standing in front of the mirror fixing his suit. His slender form appeared graceful and sometimes otherworldly.
John scratched his head, squinted and looked again at the clock. "Sherlock, it's only eight o'clock. We don't need to be there until ten! You're already dressed?"
Sherlock was expressionless as he regarded himself in the mirror.
"The traffic will be a nightmare," he said to John, still not taking his eyes from the mirror. It was not a self appraising gaze, but a rather flat one. John shook his head.
"I'll get dressed. Maybe we can grab a coffee from Speedy's at least?" He had long ago abandoned the use of their refrigerator to store food. God only knew what macabre thing of Sherlock's might be in there for scientific study.
Sherlock didn't reply, so John just went and got himself ready at his leisure. By nine o'clock they were standing in line at Speedy's. John got himself a cup of coffee and a croissant, but Sherlock ordered nothing. John was used to this and made no comment.
Sherlock hailed a cab, which pulled in immediately.
"Where to, sirs?" asked the cabbie in his thick London accent.
"Scotland Yard," said Sherlock importantly. The cabbie looked at him in the mirror only to see Sherlock peering back at him intently. The cabbie looked away quickly. Ever since the case which John titled, 'A Study in Pink', Sherlock was always suspicious of cabbies. But the ride was uneventful.
John took a deep breath before entering the building, but Sherlock seemed unperturbed. When the sleuth was on a case, nothing could disturb his focus.
"Sherlock," said John tentatively.
"Spare me the 'Sherlock, be nice' speech, John," clipped the detective, imitating John's voice, as they made their way through security.
"You are a dick," said John softly, but he couldn't see the smirk on Sherlock's face, as the consulting detective was walking ahead of him.
"Just don't give these people a cause to hate you. Our business will suffer if we don't get Lestrade's cases!" John admonished.
Sherlock strode purposefully into the meeting room where they were to be introduced to the VeriCorp representatives, with John following, looking for a place to ditch the coffee cup. Greg Lestrade came over to them immediately.
"Glad you could come," he said in a low tone. "Listen, this wasn't my idea," he said by way of apology. "You really don't have to do this. It's just the Chief's twisted idea of fun. It really gets under his skin when you solve a case that we can't."
"A high profile murder case and cut throat competition….sounds like my idea of fun, too," answered Sherlock in an even lower voice, with just a hint of mischievousness.
"C'mon, let me introduce you," said Lestrade, bringing them to the side of the room where the VeriCorp people were standing.
They walked past Dimmock who nodded at them guardedly. John nodded back but Sherlock ignored him summarily. Donovan was already seated, looking at Sherlock as if appraising him with her new found skills.
"Still indexing your sock drawer, Freak?" she whispered as he walked by. She had discovered that quirk during one of their bogus 'drugs busts' in his flat. He paused but didn't turn to face her. Instead he looked straight ahead and said, "Another late night Donovan? What do you see in that Anderson fellow? And the diet pills aren't working," he added cruelly.
"Jesus, Sherlock," hissed John, who shook his head and chanced a look at Donovan, who was furious at the exchange. They forged ahead to where Lestrade was waiting.
"John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, I'd like you to meet William Conroy and Samantha Sloan from VeriCorp." As the four exchanged handshakes, Lestrade said, "William and Samantha are Clinical Forensic Psychologists, and they've been instructing our lot on their techniques on reading people during interrogations and interviews."
"Forensic psychology?" said Sherlock critically. "Isn't that an oxymoron?"
John shot Sherlock a warning look, which bounced off his friend with no effect. William Conroy was a middle aged balding man with a short paunchy stature and a serious face. Samantha Sloan, however, was much younger and quite beautiful. She had lovely dark skin and striking pale green eyes. Her easy, casual demeanor was very charming…and disarming.
William Conrad gazed intently at Sherlock, who remained inscrutable under his examination. The man's demeanor was no nonsense, as he replied, "There is a science to psychology, Mr. Holmes. I'll be happy to instruct you in it sometime, after we solve this case."
"Perhaps after I solve the case," replied Sherlock cooly. There was a moment of awkward silence, which was broken by Samantha Sloan.
"I am a big fan of your blog," said Samantha to John. "Your cases are fascinating!"
John smiled at her broadly. "Thanks," he said, unable to stop himself from flushing slightly under her gaze.
"Call me Sam," she said warmly to them, undeterred by the tension in the room.
"Sam Sloan," repeated Sherlock. "You wouldn't happen to play chess?" he asked cheekily referring to the great chess player Samuel Sloan.
"I get that a lot," she said, laughing. "Would you like to play sometime?" she asked, clearly flirting. But Sherlock didn't flirt back as she expected. His eye brows knit together and his eyes darted sideways towards John, as if seeking the answer, but he did not reply.
Sam was clearly fascinated by Sherlock, and not at all offended by his behavior. She had done her research on her competition. Sherlock Holmes was the Holy Grail of subjects for her profession, and she was first and foremost a scientist. One could become adept at masking one's emotions, but the body's natural physical reactions to the world go largely unnoticed and are virtually impossible to suppress.
To the untrained eye, Sherlock appeared to be emotionless and completely in control of himself. But as Sam studied him during their short encounter, she noticed a micro expression, which is an almost imperceptible flash of emotion that betrays our true feelings. There had been definite sign of irritation. And, to her gratification, when they had shaken hands, his pupils had unmistakably dilated, signaling physical attraction.
Lestrade had walked up to the front of the room and was signaling to get everyone's attention.
"Okay folks, let's all take our seats," he shouted, as everyone quieted down and found their places.
"As you all know by now, you are here to witness this morning's arranged interview with Karl Hunter. I don't think I need to go over all of the details of the case, which I expect you are all very familiar with by now."
There were various expressions of consent, and most people had notepads scrawled with notes that they were flipping through for review. John had a small pad and pen, but Sherlock had nothing whatsoever to record notes on. This was not lost on the VeriCorp contingent, who seemed surprised.
"Now, the questions are all part of a script, written under the consult of VeriCorp," began Lestrade, who noticed John's hand in the air already.
"Don't we get a chance to have our questions asked?" queried John, feeling that this was an unfair advantage for VeriCorp.
"No need," said Sherlock, waving his hand dismissively.
John did a double take, looking at Sherlock in surprise, but he made no further remarks, so Lestrade continued.
"Right, well, the questions will be asked by an internal NSY investigator, and will be watched by everyone in this room via a live feed. It will be recorded and available for you all to review at your convenience. NSY team, you've all been trained this week by VeriCorp on various techniques for deception detection, and I want you all taking notes and using those techniques during this interview. Sherlock, you'll be doing….whatever it is you usually do, and we shall each follow up any leads we might obtain here today separately."
There was a lot of shifting and fidgeting as people began to anticipate the work ahead of them. Donovan had a determined set to her chin, hoping to finally break something before Sherlock. William Conroy seemed supremely confident in his abilities, while Sam Sloan gazed calmly at everyone in the room around her, taking in as much detail as she could about their body language, which spoke volumes about their interrelationships.
She did not miss the humiliated look of Sally Donovan or the idol worship of DI Dimmock for Sherlock Holmes despite the latter's callousness. She noted John Watson's nervous concern as he watched his friend from the corner of his eye. Lestrade, she knew, was skeptical about the whole experiment and Sherlock…well, she was a bit stuck on Sherlock at the moment. There was not a thing to tell of him as he sat there in his long trench coat with the collar turned up, except that he now seemed to be in supreme control of himself.