Three
OMG I am sooooooooo sorry guys, it's been hectic trying to get this next chapter up and running; internet crashed, school started back up and the new series of Sherlock FINALLY turned up here in Aust. So yeah no really good excuses but it's all I got. Here it is and I hope you like it.
Charlie POV:
After a rather tense taxi ride through central London, whereby Charlie steadily avoided the glances sent her way via her male companions, they arrived at the crime scene. The whole trip had been silent and awkward and as she stepped out of the car a dizzy spell hit her with all the force of a train. She stumbled and would have fallen had Sherlock not grabbed a hold of her arm. The spell passed and she nodded gratefully, ignoring his semi-amused expression as Donovan sauntered over to them.
"Still hanging around him then?" She called out to John who rolled his eye playfully at Charlie.
"You guys should get yourselves a hobby. Stamps maybe, model trains...much safer." She continued and Charlie smirked. Ignoring the annoying sergeant they went to look at the car. A large patchwork of blood was spread across the seats and Charlie worried slightly over the likelihood of discovering a person who'd lost that much blood alive. Blowing on her hands loudly she stepped around the car looking for any clues in an obvious manner while Sherlock slipped something from the car pocket into his own. He nodded to her and she turned to lean against the hood of a standing police car while he and John went off to talk to Monkford's wife who stood some twenty paces away. As she waited Donovan wandered over again.
"You all right?" She asked and Charlie staggered slightly. She looked over at the other woman incredulously and Sally shifted uncomfortably.
"I've been better." She answered truthfully and Sally nodded.
"He likes you, you know the f-Holmes." She said stiffly and Charlie snorted.
"He's a high functioning sociopath… he doesn't know how to care, at least not in the same way you or I would." She said and even she could detect the disappointed note in her voice.
"He's a good man beneath the pompous git everybody else sees; you just have to bear with the childish pranks and prickish attitude." Charlie said softly and looked over at Sally who smiled slightly. The woman obviously wasn't going to change her mind about Sherlock Holmes any time soon, hell she probably didn't even like her all that much, however Charlie felt a little of the tension that had built up over the last few months ease somewhat.
"This doesn't make us friends you know." Sally pointed out and Charlie smirked smugly.
"Oh I know. Just not enemies right?." She quipped and pushed off the bonnet. Sherlock and John wandered over and she quirked an eyebrow at them.
"Well?" She asked and Sherlock sighed melodramatically. Charlie smacked him lightly on the arm and he smirked.
"She talked about him in the past tense. He was depressed for months and very organised. Come on Charlotte, John, we have places to be!" He said and she rolled her eyes. She could feel Donovan watching there retreating figures and shook her head. If only they knew.
The card Sherlock had managed to snag from the crime scene was battered, the first letter of the name hardly visible but between them they managed to figure out that the car dealership did not in fact deal in proctology as she had previously thought. John sniggered lightly in the corner and even Sherlock shook his head amusedly as they arrived. Plastered a perfected trio of poker faces onto their visages they approached the manager and the game began.
"Yeah, he came by it recently. Nice car, Mazda. Wouldn't mind owning one of them myself." Mr Ewitt said cheerfully and Charlie fluttered her lashes subtly and pointed to the photos on the wall behind him. Having been landed with the role of 'brainless female' (which she had fought against valiantly until the end) she pulled the Grammy award winning performance of her life and said...
"Is that one?" He turned to look and Sherlock checked his collar.
You owe me big. She mouthed at him and he rolled his eyes.
"No those are all Jags, I can see you're not a car person." Ewiit said and leered at her as she shrugged, unbuttoning her jacket and leaning forwards to smile at him.
"Not really." She said simperingly and he grinned.
"Did you have a nice holiday Mr Ewitt? You look tanned." Sherlock spoke and Charlie was slightly amused at the gravel in his voice.
"No this is tanning beds I'm afraid, can't afford a holiday. My wife would love one though." Ewitt sighed and sat down.
"Sorry to bother you but do you have any change for the cigarette machine? I just saw one outside and I'm gasping." Sherlock asked , brandishing a fiver. Mr Ewitt opened his wallet obligingly and shook his head apologetically.
"Nope sorry mate."
"Well thank you for your time Mr Ewitt." Charlie said and they filed out. They made it about a quarter of the way down the corridor before she collapsed against the wall in hysterics. She rested there for a few moments until the laughter subsided a little before pushing herself away. John looked rather alarmed as she spun on Sherlock and shook her head.
"Honestly Shirley the things I bloody to for you… Is that one? It makes me sound like Barbie Thomas in 7th grade." She said and Sherlock scowled.
"What did you get?" John demanded before the consulting detective could retort and he straightened importantly.
"Mr Ewitt's a liar. Taxi!"
"Can we just stop at the chemist for a second, I need some aspirin for this headache." Charlie asked and Sherlock nodded. The taxi pulled over and the two men waited as she hoped out and ran to the drug store. She pulled over one of the female attendants and rattled off her symptoms and waited while the woman went away. Presently she returned and handed Charlie a small box that made her face go white.
"Thank you." She said tightly before shoving it roughly into her coat pocket.
"Cac." She muttered before rejoining the men back in the cab. She didn't say anything for the rest of the trip.
Charlie made Sherlock wait outside the lab whilst she went inside to talk up Molly. When questioned she simply stared at him pointedly until John coughed a poor answer, reminding him of the 'gay' moment from earlier.
"Hi Molly, do you mind if we use the lab quickly?" She asked the sad looking brunette.
"Will Sherlock be there?" She asked and Charlie grimaced.
"Unfortunately for us poor females right? He wants to test some blood samples and it shouldn't take more than ten minutes." She said and Molly stared at the wall blankly before nodding sadly.
"Molly?" Charlie said firmly and the younger woman looked up at her. "I'm so sorry about Sherlock, he honestly can't help it. I hope it hasn't spoiled anything between you and Jim and if it helps at all I slapped him for being horrid." That brought a smile to Molly's face and the two of them laughed.
"You can use the lab if you want."
"Thank you!"
It had been almost an hour in the lab and Sherlock was just dropping something onto a petri dish full of blood, making it fizz when Charlie walked in and handed him and John a coffee. She had declined one herself and was content to simply watch them, staring at the fizzing blood sample curiously. This crime was getting weirder and weirder, something was off about the blood but she could place what. The pink phone rang suddenly and she jumped while Sherlock picked it up.
"Hello?...why would you be giving me a clue..." He asked and waited. He then put the phone down. Charlie picked it up and considered it questioningly.
"Charlotte, what do you know about Janus?" He asked and Charlie rolled her eyes at the nick name before answering instantly.
"Wasn't he supposedly a God with two faces?" She asked and he nodded. John piped up from his seat.
"Why do you ask?"
"The clue is in the name...we have to tell Lestrade." Sherlock said and grabbed his coat. Charlie moved carefully after them, shaking her head bemusedly. They found themselves in the room where the car was being stored with Lestrade looking at them expectantly.
"Well?" He asked and Charlie smiled at him indulgently.
"How much blood would you say was on the seats?" Sherlock asked.
"About a pint." John said and Charlie smirked.
"Why?"
"It was a pint exactly, their first mistake." Sherlock continued and Charlie came to stand beside him.
"I had these two check the man's medical records. He gave a pint of blood recently. I tested the blood on the seats, it's been frozen. I'm willing to bet that they spread that pint of blood he had given onto the seats." Sherlock said smartly and Charlie sighed tiredly, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets.
"So he's not dead?" Lestrade asked and she shook her.
"No." She said and smiled.
"The clue is in the name, Janus cars. The two faced god. You need your problems solving and Janus cars will help you disappear." She said softly and let Sherlock have his reign.
"Mr Ewitt had a tan line around his neck – no one wears a shirt on a sun bed – he also kept scratching his arm. Most likely because he had recently had a booster jab. Hep B probably, hard to tell from that distance." He said accordingly.
"So where is Monkford now?" Lestrade asked.
"Columbia."
"Colum- please tell me you're not just making this up!" He demanded.
"He had a Columbian peso note in his wallet, quite a bit of change too. So he's just been abroad helping Monkford settle into his new life in Columbia. Case closed." Sherlock said smugly. The three stooges then began to walk away, Sherlock with a spring in his step.
"I am on FIRE!" He yelled happily and Charlie rolled her eyes over at John who shook his head bemusedly. Back at the flat, Sherlock posted the outcome on his blog and not twenty minutes later the stolen voice was safe.
Sherlock POV:
Charlie returned from the bathroom, her face paler than usual but looking happier now than she had all afternoon, the memories of the video recording obviously forgotten. She lowered herself into the seat, sliding her body neatly beside his. Staring around the small café with distaste she sighed and leaned back on the uncomfortable plastic chair.
"Sherlock?" She asked.
"Hmm?"
"Has it occurred to you...?" She began and he smirked.
"Probably." He quipped and she sighed, kicking him lightly as John began to eat the recently prepared dinner. He grinned and she finally looked up at him, a hand coming up to rub her neck and linger there absently.
"Has it occurred to you that the killer is playing some sort of psychological game with you? I mean I've been thinking over the case files I studied for my degrees and...well, it seems likely." She asked and Sherlock smirked.
"Charlotte I didn't believed you cared." He teased and she shook her head tiredly. Her eyebrows creased worriedly and John swallowed.
"Sherlock pay attention, she's got a point." He said and he shrugged nonchalantly,
"So what? Games are fun right?" He said and Charlie stretched, her slim body extending sensuously as she reached her arms above her head. He blinked and busied himself with studying her face again.
"When you are a kid and there's a predictable ending to be had… this isn't a nice game Sherlock and you know it." She said and he met her worried eye evenly.
"Don't you have work to go to?" He asked and she frowned.
"I have the graveyard shift in three hours but I don't even want to go." She said and pulled up short.
"Wow, my job satisfaction just died." She remarked aloud before fixing him with a casual smile.
"How long are you working today?" John asked and she shrugged.
"A few hours, I suppose." She said slowly. The phone on the table between them buzzed and Sherlock snatched it up, opening the text to reveal a picture of a blonde woman wearing far too much lipstick as 3 beeps sounded through the room, earning the trio several annoyed looks. Sherlock frowned at the picture.
"Well that could be anyone! Do women always wear astoundingly bright lipstick?" He asked and Charlie shook her head.
"Only the ones for whom the style fits." She said, mock-sincerely.
"For the rest of us we must simply wear the dulls and commons and worship those whose lips are graced with colour." John snatched the phone from Sherlock as the latter rolled his eyes.
"Well lucky for you two I've been more than a little unemployed."
"John stop speaking in riddles or I may be forced to do something I'll regret."
"Lucky for you I've watched far too much day time telly with your aunt." He said smartly and snatched up the remote controller from the side and flicked on to a show that announced 'Connie Prince found dead in home in London'. On the screen above the notice was the dead woman's face.
"That's her!" Sherlock announced and Charlie sniggered.
"No shit Sherlock." She said and he scowled at her, for some reason that saying sounded annoyingly familiar. He began to flick between the screen and his phone at an alarming rate. Investigations, coronary reports, hospital records and… there we go!
"Charlotte, we need to go and I'm afraid you're not working graveyard shifts tonight." He said and just about pulled her from her seat. She stumbled after him and swore foreignly under her breath. He grinned as he translated the words.
"Why so enthusiastic?" She asked annoyedly as they stepped out onto the street.
"Molly will be inspecting the cadaver! Come on John." He called and John followed them sadly his mind still obviously on the food he'd left behind. Why he even bothered to eat while they were on a case still astounded him, hadn't he already explained the cons of doing so? The phone rang then and Sherlock spoke into the phone as Charlie stared at him, her bottom lip chewed lightly as she did so.
"Hello..."
"Hello, I have another puzzle for you." The voice was older and female. "Why are you doing this?." He asked and there was a pause.
"I like to watch you dance." The phone disconnected and he put it into his pocket. Charlie stood still and gazed into the street absently. He paused for a moment as well, hailing a taxi as he did so.
Charlie POV:
Charlie signed in and walked to her office, sighing at the enormous pile of paperwork she had to deal with before grabbing the Connie Prince case file (an autopsy had already been conducted) and flicked through it. Sherlock had moaned at Lestrade until he got the body transferred to St. Bart's and now it was her turn to find the clues to this little mystery. She nudged the door of the morgue open and was met by the three men in question, John looking at the body whilst Sherlock and Lestrade argued.
Sherlock POV:
"I don't see why you want another autopsy!" Lestrade was saying.
"We don't need the autopsy we just need the body." Sherlock returned calmly and Lestrade spluttered. It must be so interesting living in his head, all that white noise going off all the time.
"What?" He asked elegantly and Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"We gave the pretext of an autopsy so I could actually get some real work done around here, Charlotte was kind enough to get the file and will confirm with me when I find you results." He said and Lestrade gave up turning away in disgust.
"Find but this is all on you if this backfires."
"It won't." Sherlock said firmly, dismissing the detective and getting down to work. Charlie looked at the file again.
"According to this case file, Connie Prince died two days ago. She was out in the garden and cut her hand on a rusty nail. Tetanus gets into the system and..." She began.
"Good night Vienna." He finished and she nodded distractedly. She eyed the corpse before speaking again, peering closely at the aforementioned limb with avid interest.
"John, look at that cut. Something is wrong with it." She said and John leaned forward to concur.
"Well it's very clean..." He said and she nodded.
"Too clean." Sherlock said as he looked at the case file over Charlie's shoulder.
"The mortician didn't clean the cut." He asked and she shook her head.
"It was made post mortem." He stated and pulled out his phone.
"So the bacteria got into her body another way?" John asked and Sherlock nodded.
"It would seem so." He said and frowned. There was a missing piece here, something obvious and he knew exactly how to get at it. Sherlock began to make his way towards the door. There was so much to do, why were people so slow.
"Hurry up you too." He called over his shoulder and saw Charlie sigh out of the corner of his eye.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade asked and he looked back. The inspector was frowning and it made him look at least ten years older.
"What?" He demanded, halfway through the door.
"Why is the killer doing this? Letting us know about the murders?" Seriously that was what these people worried about? There was a killer on the loose and all they worried about was the why? It's the how that's exciting, more important than the why.
"Good Samaritan." He answered brightly and went to leave.
"Who press-gangs suicide bombers?" Lestrade pointed out and that caused him to shrug.
"Bad Samaritan." That made Charlie giggle slightly but was stopped by Lestrade's firm glare.
"Sherlock this is serious!" He said irritably and Sherlock nodded slowly.
"I know. Come on John! Places to be, people to interview!" He called and the two of them left the morgue. It was a couple of minutes before Charlie emerged from the building her red hair as bright in the dark as it was during the day.
John POV:
John had somehow found himself in the house of Connie Prince's brother. A brother who, it must be added, was sitting uncomfortably close and holding what appeared to be an inside out cat. The thing was ugly, bald and skittish. He inched away as the questions continued. He'd been asking questions for a while and was becoming increasingly desperate. The whole place stank to high heaven of disinfectant and he was certain if he stayed there much longer he'd probably keel over as well.
"Well I just need to make a call." He said weakly.
"Oh by all means do." The man replied, waving his hand. John scurried out, picking up his phone and dialling.
"Hello?" A deep voice a said and he sighed.
"Sherlock I need your help I think I'm on to something. You'll need to pick up some things, have you got a pen?"
"I'll remember."
"Well you'll need a camera..." He began.
John was extremely proud with himself as they left the house.
"You think it was the cat? It wasn't the cat." Sherlock said and John felt the elation drain from him. He stopped short.
"Well of course it was! New cat, bit jumpy. The floor cleaner was put on the claws by her brother and entered her bloodstream when it scratched her." He said and Sherlock smirked.
"Raoul kept a clean house, used lots of floor cleaner. You stink of disinfectant even now. No it wasn't her brother." He said and John frowned.
"He killed her for her money." John said and Sherlock shook his head.
"Did he?" The consulting detective said cryptically and it was in that moment John wished Charlie were still with them. With her around someone stood between Sherlock Holmes and the destruction of the human race by the poor sot who happened to be stuck with him. Unfortunately she was at the flat, complaining of a headache. John sighed.
"Well what was it then." He asked and Sherlock brandished his phone.
"Second autopsy results from St. Barts, botulinum toxin. Our killer is repeating himself." He said and they hailed a taxi.
"I though we hadn't done that." He asked and Sherlock frowned.
"Right stupid question really." John said to himself as they went to collect Charlie.
"The killer was Raoul De Santos! He killed Connie using an injection of clostridium botulinum." Sherlock said.
"How?" Lestrade asked, looking over to where Charlie, John and Sherlock had marched in. Sherlock with the St. Bart's autopsy results held high.
"Botox injections are a weakened form of botulinum, he's been bulk ordering it for months. He'd become accustomed to a certain lifestyle and when Connie threatened to ruin that he made sure she died before she did. Case closed." He said and marched into Lestrade's office, opened up his laptop and within twenty seconds was typing his findings into his blog. The phone rang and he picked it up.
"Hello?" He said and John watched his face change. He looked over at Charlie who was watching warily, her feministic senses obviously tingling.
"No...no don't.." He lowered the phone and realisation dawned on them.
"They're dead aren't they?" She whispered calmly and Sherlock nodded.
"She started describing him." He said and Charlie looked at him in shock.
"But…" She began and suddenly her eyes filled and spilled over with tears. She didn't sob like before and seemed shocked herself when she scooped the tears off her face.
"Sherlock I'm tired, let's go home." She said and for once the socially awkward detective didn't argue. He stood and nodded goodbye to Lestrade before guiding her out of the building. She was asleep before they arrived home at 221B Baker St so he simply carried her inside. John followed the pair quietly, wondering if the two smartest people he'd ever know would ever get a clue.
Charlie POV:
When she woke up Charlie knew it was going to be a bad day. There was no logical reason for her assumption, she simply knew it was just going to be one of those days. Wrapped in nothing but her underwear and a sheet, a habit she and Sherlock had both gotten into (although she often suspected he wore less than she did beneath the cloth), she entered the living room. The two men sat in the flat, watching the television as the explosion caused by the latest victim was explained away as a gas explosion. She sat down beside Sherlock and smiled at his look.
"They're all liars in that profession." She said sadly
"Bastairds." She muttered as she relaxed into the couch.
"The killer is taking his time this time." Sherlock noted, eyeing the phone. Charlie walked over and picked it up. Sherlock was on his feet in moments but she ignored him.
"Charlotte give it back." He demanded and she frowned.
"Why Sherlock? All this jerk is doing is running us in circles while we listen to some poor bastard get blown up or threatened with the same style of execution… tell me, did you even need the second autopsy to be sure of the poison?"
He sighed. She had her answer but couldn't believe it.
"No but..." He began and she shook her head firmly.
"But nothing! This is all a game to you isn't it?" She shouted and the flat went silent. It wasn't often that Charlie raised her voice and John had cowered into the kitchen. Sherlock didn't speak. John stepped in.
"Sherlock there are lives at stake here! Actual human lives!" He said and his own voice was less than calm. Charlie shot him a quick look and he retreated again.
"So what?" Sherlock asked and Charlie froze suddenly. The phone in her hand tumbled and hit the floor with a loud, echoing bang as she stared at Sherlock in disbelief.
"Sherlock..." She said and her voice had dropped to a delicate whisper.
"What? You expected me to care? Caring doesn't save them Charlotte! Don't make me into a hero because they don't exist and even if they did I wouldn't be one!" He said and her lips tightened ever so slightly. She felt her heart begin to thump loudly and knew if she didn't get out of there right now she was going to cry. She walked over to him and peered into his face carefully. He stared back at her evenly but she caught a glimpse of something, something he would deny ever feeling but she knew she had seen.
"Translate this Sherlock, Is tusa mo laoch." She said defiantly. Something snapped, she knew she was being stupid and neurotic but she didn't care.
"Well don't care then! If it was me strapped to that bomb, or John, or my Aunt Em would you care then? Of course not! Because apparently you don't care about people at all!" She said and stepped back, the sheet whirling as she went. She stormed out of the room and down the corridor back to her room. Lying on her bed she brought a hand up to her stomach, breathing deeply and trying to calm herself. She hadn't shown this much emotion since her teenage years, so much for the sociopathic tendencies. Through the door she could hear the men talking.
"Why Sherlock? Why do you have to do that to the only person on this god damned planet who actually has the emotional and intellectual capacity to stand your stupid mind games? Someday you're going to upset her so much that she's never going to forgive you and that day you'll have no one but yourself to blame." A wicked idea came to mind and she buried her face back into the pillow and tried to catch a few extra winks. No matter what happened all she had to do was convince herself that she did not care.
Sherlock POV:
Sherlock was getting impatient. The killer still hadn't called, John was reading a book and Charlie had been gone for the best part of half an hour. John stood up to make more tea and finally Sherlock heard something outside the living room. Walking over quietly he peered through the door and saw Charlie making her way back towards him, she spotted him and nodded stiffly. He stepped back and she walked through the door into the living room. John re-entered the room and smiled at her. She grinned and settled down at the table, stead-fastedly ignoring him as she picked up her book and began to flick through it. He sat down on the couch and felt the overwhelming urge to talk to her, to apologise. He opened his mouth.
"Charlotte?" He said and she flicked her hand irritably, as one would a bug or something. .
"Not now Sherlock, I've reached a good part in my book… who knows when I'll get a chance to finish it with this case floating around." She said and he frowned. Out of the corner of his eye he saw John looking at his expertly and felt a sudden rush of anger at the pair of them. If this was how they wanted to do it then it was fine by him, three could play that game. The phone went off and he clicked the screen. Standing he moved to the door and looked back at the pair of them in dismissive scrutiny. He turned away and picked up his scarf and coat before bounding down the stairs and past Mrs. Hudson who smiled and wished him luck. Thank God for Mrs. Hudson.
"John! Charlotte! Hurry up, we have a location!" He said sharply as he hailed a taxi and waited for them to join him. John appeared followed by Charlie who sighed heavily in the chilly morning air and buried her pale fingers into her coat pockets. He was tempted to tell her to pack gloves but then remembered their announcement of war and stopped himself. No matter what happened all he had to do was convince himself that he did not care.
Translations:
Cac – Shit,
Bastairds- Bastards
Is tusa mo laoch- You are my hero.
