Hello everyone! One more chapter! This one was the most difficult to write so far: no inspiration and no idea of how make Sherlock's deductions seem plausible, so there are almost none. I'll try to put more in another chapter. I also wanted to thank to Firelizard Tamer for favorite.
Music: He's a Pirate - Hans Zimmer
Disclaimer: Let's face it. Sherlock will never be mine... He will always belong to the brilliant mind that is Conan Doyle and to the evil minds, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss (just kidding. We all love you!)
Enjoy!
05:32 AM (Sherlock's Bedroom)
Sherlock opened the eyes, blinking quickly, trying to clear the fog obscuring his eyes. Slowly, with the help of the arms, he sat on the bed, not feeling his feet – probably sleepers. The dark-haired man sighed and grabbed the mobile, the source of the sound that made him wake up. The hatred for the person who texted him was leaving. The sleep could wait. After almost two weeks without a decent case (mostly because John and Greg still thought he was too shaken due to his father's death), he was craving for a new one. And skies answered to his prayers! A murder and possible kidnapping, all together in one single case! It was a seven at least, depending on the crime scene itself. Now, he just had to take John with him… Sherlock looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 05:38 AM. Too soon for the doctor to awake. Suddenly forgetting all the politeness his mother taught him when a kid, the detective threw the blankets away and jumped of the bed.
A cough was heard from the end of the bedroom. Sherlock stopped, trying to listen to any other sounds, the only thing he could listen were breaths. Moving slowly, almost undetectable, the young man turned around, still not able to see anyone in the room, but able to observe two small red dots pointing at him. 'Snipers perhaps.' All sort of things crossed his mind. If he tried to run, they would shot him. There was only one thing he could do that would scare the dangerous people and give him a small chance to see who they were.
Sherlock opened his mouth and screamed.
People started running, coming from all the ways possible. They were also screaming, after hearing the big shout. The dots fell to the floor, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room. The detective's voice was no longer being heard. Finally capable of seeing who was observing him, Sherlock's jaw dropped slightly.
But of course, a disgrace never comes alone.
The door collapsed to the floor, the sound of wood hitting wood enormous. The detective observed a deep dent on the now laying door. A foot dent. He then heard the unquestionable sound of a loaded gun. John entered the bedroom, the soldier inside him coming out.
"On the floor now." His voice was so grave it sent shivers down Sherlock's spine. Everyone on the room shut their mouths and bent on their knees, arms signalling surrender. Looking rather surprised by John's 'captain mode' and hesitating, Sherlock also started bending.
Without even looking at the detective, John rolled his eyes. "Not you Sherlock."
"Ok" The young man rose again, standing close to the doctor.
"You may want to put some pyjamas on, don't you think?" When John finally understood who he was aiming at, rage began to boil in his head. Trying not to explode in front of the cameras, the blogger stared at Sherlock, with no clothes but pants. The TV team coughed again. The detective, instead of putting some pyjama bottoms, dressed a dark blue shirt and a black suit. "What are you doing?"
"As you can see John, I'm getting ready to leave. You should probably get dressed too. Lestrade texted. I'm heading off to the crime scene. I presume you're coming with me?"
"Do you know what time is it?" Not giving a damn about the TV team, John shouted angrily at Sherlock. "It's bloody 05:55 in the morning!"
"So what?" The doctor's flatmate faced him, a puzzled look on his face. God, he really doesn't get it, does he? Thinking deeply about the current situation, John made up his mind. "We're not going."
"Oh come on Watson! This will b-" The short man send a dangerous look towards Sherlock, who immediately whispered "It will be fun!"
John sighed and left the room. "I'll be ready in ten minutes."
The tall man jumped and held the blogger by the shoulders, both of them going round and around each other. Of course Sherlock would not allow such scene be so cute (specially on TV), so he shoved John away. "Hurry!"
Sherlock sprang out of the taxi, letting John pay for the ride. The TV team, once recomposed from the fright, set off after the cab, trying to get an image of the detectives in the vehicle. No luck though, cars were always in front of them. Seeing where the taxi was heading to was a fortune.
"Oi! Freak! Where do you think you're going?" Sherlock sighed, a hand going through his hair. The detective lowered his head so he could eye Donovan. The sergeant approached the duo, arms crossed over the chest and the right foot taping impatiently on the pavement.
"Donovan!" Sherlock opened his arms as if he was about to hug her "How long has it been? Two years?"
"The best two years of my life. Just because you came back to life and everyone is now believing you're a hero again, it doesn't mean I'll admit I was wrong saying you're a fraud, because I was not." John stepped on her direction, ready to give a couple of words when Sherlock put a hand on his stomach, making him stop.
"Where's the body?"
"Give me a good reason to tell you." Sally tilted her head slightly, an evil smile plastered on her face. The consultant detective joined her.
"Lestrade called me."
"I said a good reason."
Sensing exasperation boiling up inside him, Sherlock got closer to Donovan, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel the hot breath finding its way inside her. "I ensure you; you don't want to mess up with me from now on Sally. I'm no longer the Sherlock Holmes I used to be. If you thought I was able to kill someone before, you have no idea of what I could do now." The dark-haired man stepped back and looked expectantly at Donovan. "Crime scene?"
The woman woke up from the shock and headed the group past the gate. John and most of the TV team whistle at the sight of a mansion completely covered by trees so high they could almost reach the sky.
"Why does Greg have the case if we're outside London?" John asked Sherlock once they reached the main door. The huge garden on the front of the 'house' was covered by journalists, two ambulances and police officers trying to keep strangers away from the mansion and the people wearing the orange shock blanket.
"Bureaucracy." Lestrade appeared from nowhere, making John's heart skip a beat. "Technically, the mansion is right in the middle of the limit between London and Essex, and as the fucking crime scene is at the London part, I've got it." The DI grunted, the gloved hands in his trousers pockets.
"Angry leaving Mycroft's heat, Inspector?" Sherlock turned back at Lestrade, a grin quite visible. "Who are those?" The young man pointed at the group of people with the blankets.
"Maids mostly. Some victim's family also." Sherlock marched to the people, John behind him, telling the TV team to stay back if they wanted to film something. They promptly nodded.
"Family members give a step forwards." The shocked group stared at the brunet with a questioning look. However, no one made question to do what the man said, staying exactly where they were. Sherlock did not understand the reason why none of them moved as he ordered and shot a glare at John.
The doctor gave a smile and got closer to them and only added "Please." Two women and a man stepped ahead. A proud smile was plastered on his face and John walked closer to Greg, whistling. With his mouth partially opened, Sherlock focused on the people in front of him. Both women were on their mid-thirties, white skin like snow and long blonde hair. The only difference between them was the height. The first one was almost as tall as Sherlock. The other one was smaller than John. 'Sisters' The detective stabled the last connections among the women and fixated on the man. He was older than the sisters, age rounding the early fifties, quite visible on the tired eyes. Grey straight hair. Heavy smoker by the degradation of his teeth and the yellowish on his nails. Defensive position. Chin pointing to the ground. 'Angry with something, but what?'
"Names?" Sherlock's eyes went icy, observing the three people reactions carefully.
"Please" John repeated once again.
"I'm Victoria Summers and these are my older sister, Naomi, and my cousin Ted. We are Paul's cousins." The tall blonde tilted her head in the direction of the small woman and the short man. Sherlock understood that Paul was the deceased man. "Today Paul and Susan were going on holidays and we came to babysit the twins, but… wh-when we got here… we found P laying on the study's floor and th-the twins and Su were missing." Sherlock eyed John, who immediately said that P and Su were Paul and Susan.
"What time did you found the body?" The doctor pinched the dark-haired man for being so rude, while Sherlock questioned the cousins.
"B-body…" Naomi covered her mouth and left the group behind, her eyes becoming watery. Ted followed her, not before sending some snarky comments at Sherlock. Seeing she was the only one able to answer to the detective, Victoria huffed and crossed her arms tightly.
"I'm not sure, probably around five."
"Time of death?" Sherlock turned at Lestrade. The DI shrugged. "How can you possible not know?" The brunet shouted at Greg, exasperation as clear as water.
"I arrived ten minutes before you."
"Ten minutes is a long time!"
"I had more things to do!"
"Oh really? Such as?..."
"Not your business!"
"In case you didn't notice, I am the one who is actually going to solve this case! I need to know!"
"NO YOU DON'T!"
"Just tell me!"
"ANDERSON!" Lestrade called loudly Phillip. The forensic man ran out of the mansion, evidence bags on his hands. "Time of death?"
"Well, I can't tell you precisely when…" Anderson heard a sarcastic laugh coming from Sherlock, but when he received a warning look from Greg, he decided the nasty comment could wait "As soon as I get to the lab I'll tell you more precisely. However, I can say right now that it happened between three AM and three forty."
"What about the kids and the mother? Anything yet?"
"Not a clue." Sherlock started laughing again, his deep voice reaching the ears of all the people in the garden. 'Hold on, Phillip. Hold on for a few more minutes.' The forensic was just about turning red.
"Your turn then, Sherlock. Go and do your magic." Lestrade began pushing the detective to the mansion. Once inside, Sherlock observed the study. The division was relatively big, the wall facing the door with two large windows that came from the ceiling to the floor. Long cream curtains covered those windows. The two adjacent walls were covered by shelves filled with books and every single instrument a geologist would need. A huge carpet hid the wood floor, an old oak desk on top of it. The corpse was scrawled next to the desk, in the middle of the room. Sherlock kneeled and watched attentively the victim's face. It was barely recognizable. Red cuts with dried blood covered his face. The mouth was torn, the nose completely turned up. The jaws were also visible from the non-existent cheeks. The only intact part of the face was the stitched eyes.
Outside the mansion, Anderson and Lestrade stand close to the main door. The forensics gave the evidence bags to a young improver while the inspector took care of some of the paperwork.
"Did you tell him about the wild animals?" Greg smirked at the thought of Sherlock seeing the most exotic animals walk freely around the dwelling. "We still didn't catch some of them. Experts keep coming and leaving."
With a fake shocked face, Lestrade slapped his hand against the forehead, exclaiming. "Oh no! I forgot to tell him! Well, it was nice to meet him."
The duo started laughing quietly. "No, I didn't tell him, but as longer as he stays inside the study and doesn't open the door, everything's alright."
"A tiny bit irresponsible, don't you agree?"
"He's the bloody Sherlock Holmes! What could possible happen?"
Suddenly left behind, John decided to get some coffee and something to eat before Sherlock notice his absence. The doctor unlocked the gate and walked through some beautiful streets, ending on a Starbucks coffee shop. John quickly returned with a Starbucks' Frappuccino coffee for him, a hot chocolate with hazelnuts for the detective and two muffins of strawberry and white chocolate. It cost a lot of money, but it always compensate. When he arrived at the huge garden again, he saw Lestrade and Anderson talking to each other and heard that Sherlock was in the mansion's study. John opened the main door and found himself on the middle of the biggest hall he has ever seen. The blogger cursed himself for not asking for directions and knocked at every door he came across.
"Sherlock? Where are you?" John started climbing the stairs to the first floor. He had now to decide if he should turn to the left, to the right or move right ahead. Sighing, the doctor moved forwards. He kept knocking at the doors while calling out loud for Sherlock. He was just about to turn back when he heard the distinctive sound of boxes falling to the floor. John opened the door. Through the gap, he could see that the room was completely dark. He kept pushing the door until the corridor's light illuminate the room.
"C'mon Sherlock, I hope you're not planning to scare me. You know I'm a soldier and my reflexes are still very good."
John watched as a tall shadow came out behind the set of boxes that fell.
"See, it wasn't that hard, was it Sherl-" John gawk as he saw that the shadow grew smaller and smaller and the one that came out of the darkness was not even a bit like Sherlock.
Sherlock was ready to tell his deductions out loud to John when he noticed that the smaller man wasn't around. In matter fact, he thought that he didn't hear the doctor's voice for quite a while. Sherlock got up on his feet and got ready to go search for his friend. The detective turned the knob, leaving the study behind. No one from the police or medical team was inside the mansion, which was very strange as usually Sherlock would leave the crime scene hours before all the equipment was packed.
Only after checking the ground floor and the basement, the brunet heard John calling out his name. With a sigh of relief, Sherlock started climbing the stairs, the thumps made by his feet echoing on the walls. He almost reached the top of the stairs when he saw a very frightened John run away from the front corridor, almost knocking Sherlock down. The detective watched as the doctor bolted of something, ignoring him completely. Curiosity taking better of him, Sherlock reached the top of the stairs only to see a Bengal Tiger walking on his direction. The young man gave a step back, stumbling down the stairs. Harkening the loud noise and a moan, John stopped and turned to only see the cause of the all situation sprawled on the floor. He quickly ran to aid his best friend, the tiger not visible yet. John put his arm under Sherlock's left shoulder and tried to get him up. Taking much more time than pretended, the two men strode out of there, until they noticed they were no longer alone. The tiger was coming down the stairs, its white teeth glowing in the dim staircase.
Both men stared at each other, sweat pouring down from their faces and fear visible. Sherlock and John backed away slowly, trying not to infuriate the big beast, when John accidentally stepped on a water bottle, letting a small cry escape. The tiger began to run on their direction. Pain now forgotten, Sherlock grabbed the smaller man's hand, making the doctor follow him to safety. The Bengal tiger was approximating even more, the adrenaline pushing through their veins. Hearing a roar coming from behind, Sherlock and John screamed so loud that everyone outside turned around to face the main door opening with a bang and two shouting men running away.
"I'll text you the details on my way home!" Sherlock called out Lestrade, who had a very scandalized face. "This was much better than I thought, John! It's a nine at least!"
The idea of bringing wild animals to a case was on my mind since the beginning of the story, but only now I had a chance to put them, though not in the way I wanted. The objective was finishing the case in one chapter. Fail...