Chapter 1:
Sherlock practically jumps off the couch the next morning, energy pulsing though him.
He looks around the living room of 221B, searching for what had awoken him.
The sound is coming from the kitchen.
John is in the kitchen, trying to find food suitable for eating. Unfortunately, there isn't much. He checks the fridge, which is empty save for a mysterious cardboard box (John doesn't check it, it'll be full of body parts) and half a carton of spoiled milk. He then checks the cupboards, where he finds an empty box of instant rice. John makes a mental note to pick up the shopping later. From the living room, he hears footsteps.
"Anything good?" Sherlock asks as he takes out two mugs. Food is boring…tea on the other hand, isn't too bad. He takes out the kettle and puts water on the stove.
"Surprisingly, no," John replies sarcastically, "But there are a few pieces of stale bread."
He puts the kettle on and takes the mugs from Sherlock's hands.
"Sleep well?" he asks with a small smile.
"Yes." Sherlock says casually, and tilts his head to the side, thinking hard.
A frown suddenly mares the consulting detective's face.
"I never did get the milk or the beans, did I?"
John shakes his head, "No, you never did get it."
He turns his attention back to making tea.
"But don't worry, I never expected you to," he says, "Any cases today?"
Sherlock blinks, bringing himself back from whatever thoughts were possessing him only moments before and looks at John. He opens his mouth to reply—
Buzz. Buzz.
Sherlock straightens at the sound and dashes back into the living room. He dives for his phone, and after taking a glance at the caller number, answers.
"Sherlock Holmes."
The tea pot begins to whistle.
John can't help but grin as Sherlock dashes to the living room to answer his buzzing phone. He hopes the call is from Lestrade and he has a case for Sherlock.
John pulls the whistling kettle off the stove and pours the steaming water into the ready waiting mugs. Carefully he picks up one in each hand and carries them into the other room.
Sherlock frowns as he hears the voice on the other end.
"Fr—Sherlock. We need you to come to Paternoster Square. It's urgent."
"Sally?" Sherlock is rather confused. Lestrade's number is the—oh. "Of course. How could I refuse?"
"Good." Sally Donavan replied. "Bye."
Sherlock hung up and jumped to his feet. "We have a case. Paternoster Square. Get dressed. Something's happened to Lestrade."
John begins to worry the moment Sherlock says something has happened to Lestrade. He nods quickly, takes a long sip of his tea, and hurries up the stairs to his room. By the time he gets dressed and comes back downstairs, Sherlock is already standing at the door, wearing his customary coat and scarf, and looking a little impatient. John grabs his own coat from the hook on the door and follows the consulting detective out of the flat.
Sherlock's hands are restless in the cab while heading over to Paternoster Gardens. His mind traveling at a million miles a second, trying not to assume what was wrong with Lestrade.
Soon they arrived and Sherlock practically jumped out of the vehicle, leaving John to pay the cabbie.
Sherlock takes in every detail of the scene before him.
Sally, Anderson and Dimmock are all present, as well as other people who work for Scotland Yard but are irrelevant to Sherlock. He frowns, taking in more data. Said trio was standing together at the edge of the police tape…not searching for clues that would escape their notice or processing the scene.
That was very odd.
Sherlock's eyes then locked onto Lestrade.
The older man was motionless, standing in the center of scene, eyes down cast, fists clenched tightly and jaw set.
Yes. Something happened here.
But what?
The whole scene feels wrong. Even John can tell. He follows Sherlock under the police tape and towards Lestrade.
John is somewhat relieved to see the DI appears to be physically fine, but from his tense stance John can tell something serious has happened.
Dimmock intercepts them before they can get to Lestrade.
"What happened?"
Sherlock frowns. "Lestrade wasn't on duty today."
Dimmock sighs, as if he was expecting that from Sherlock.
"No. He wasn't." Dimmock gestured to the DI. "He was walking with his daughter too school. He rarely gets to do so. He took his eyes off of her for one moment and then…she was gone."
Sherlock frowns. "Gone?"
"As in Missing."
Sherlock nods. "Kids go missing all the time. Why do you need us?"
At that moment, Lestrade speaks up. "Because she is the eighth girl to go missing in this manner…"
John wants to elbow Sherlock for his callousness, but refrains from doing so. He gives Lestrade a sympathetic glance and hopes that he understands.
John knows he doesn't mean to be so tactless at such a bad moment, right in front of Lestrade, whose child has just gone missing. But John does wish Sherlock would be less sociopathic at times.
"What do you mean, eighth?" John asks.
Dimmock opens his mouth to respond, but it is Lestrade that answers.
"Just after the two of you got out of the hospital, strange kidnappings have started. The girls are 8 year olds, blonde with dark eyes. They are always taken from a public place and no one sees them…vanish."
Sherlock rolls his eyes, but allows the man to finish.
"Up until a week ago, it was just kidnappings. The first girl went missing and was found on the steps of St. Anne's three days later with only bruises and slight memory loss. The next three girls taken were all assaulted in increasing degrees…at least until a week ago."
"Are you positive it is the same kidnapper?" Sherlock asks, wanting all the facts.
"That," Lestrade pointed to something at his feet. "Is this guy's signature."
John and Sherlock follow Lestrade's finger. The DI is pointing at what appears to be a simple palm branch.
Sherlock instantly whips out his magnifying glass and studies the branch.
"From where girl was taken, there was a palm branch lying where she was last seen." Lestrade's voice was tight, trying desperately to hold in the emotions that threatened to tear him apart.
"You say they were just assaulted until a week ago," John says, "What happened a week ago?"
Lestrade eyes snap shut, holding back tears, and he turns away.
Dimmick sighs before saying, "The last two were found dead. Strangled, with lethal doses of a paralytic in their systems."
John's stomach drops.
"Lestrade, I…" John begins, but he doesn't know what to say. What can he say? He puts a hand on the detectives shoulder and simply asks, "What's her name?"
"Evie," he mutters, voice full of emotion.
John looks down to Sherlock, still on the ground, with a faraway expression.
Something isn't right with this scene.
Sherlock can't exactly place it, but he just knows something is wrong.
"They don't remember anything, do they?" Sherlock asks. "The girls."
Dimmock shakes his head.
"They don't respond to certain places or sounds?"
Lestrade and Dimmock seem very agitated by this questioning. That doesn't stop Sherlock. They asked for his help, and he needed to know.
There is a piece missing. A crucial piece.
John can sense that Lestrade wants to be left alone, and he removes his hand from Lestrade's shoulder. John will leave him to grieve.
John steps away and kneels down next to Sherlock.
"What is it Sherlock?" John asks upon seeing his expression.
He knows that look. It's the look Sherlock gets when he's frustrated, when he knows something is wrong and it's the key to solving the case.
"What do we do now Sherlock?"
Sherlock looks around the scene once more. Ugh. There was something right there. Just beyond his reach…
"I'm going to need more Nicotine patches…" He mutters to himself.
He looks hard again at the palm branch. It seems to taunt him, yielding no more data than that it was a branch.
Why a palm branch? Why a tropical plant? Is it a connection to a—
Suddenly, something clicks.
"Another cipher!"
John can see the thought appear on Sherlock's face. He watches as his face lights up with realization.
"Another cipher?" John asks, not following him, "How d'you mean?"
Dimmick and Lestrade are listening to Sherlock intently. They watch with anticipation, hoping.
"A code, John!" Sherlock said, his excitement dulled by the slowness of his friend. "The palm branch isn't just a signature, it's a message!"
John ignores the isn't-it-obvious look Sherlock gives him. But then when Sherlock explains himself it seems so obvious.
"Oh!" John exclaims, "A palm branch! So, it's got something to do with… someplace tropical?"
Dimmick doesn't look impressed, "Well what does that have to do with anything?"
Sherlock gives Dimmick a look, a look very similar the one he would usually bestow on Anderson. "Everything."
Sherlock looks back at the branch, one piece discovered, but the puzzle still very much not finished.
"When can we take a look at the evidence from the previous victims?"
Dimmick looks over to Lestrade, silently asking for an ok. The older detective nods.
"Right now, if you are able."
Sherlock looks to John then back to Dimmick. "Let's not waste anymore time. The more data I can gather the faster we can find the girl."