AN: Hello again! Sorry if it seems to end at a weird spot, but I'm posting the chapters in the batches that we wrote them.
Thanks for reading! Tell us what you think!
-Allie (and Nephynix)
Chapter 2
Dimmock has every piece, every scrap of evidence waiting for Sherlock and John when they arrive at Scotland Yard. Pictures, pieces of clothing, every little thing of importance, lay out on several tables for Sherlock to look at.
The only thing he could not bring were the two bodies of the young girls killed.
Sherlock is immediately drawn to the palm branches, but it is the clothing recovered from the girls that holds his attention. He pulls out his magnifying glass.
"Which outfit is from the first?" Sherlock asks without greeting.
Dimmock is happy that he sent Lestrade home. "The blue one." He replies quickly to the consulting detective.
The outfit he points to is a girl's school uniform. Well made and expensive considering the weave and the style. The blouse, blazer, and skirt spread neatly on the desk. Sherlock focuses his magnifying glass on the cuffs and hems. He is silent as he meticulously looks over the outfit.
John looks at the uniform, but nothing seems particularly special about it. He glances around at the other evidence. There's not a whole lot there. The clothes all appear to be private school uniforms, all around the same size.
There are pictures of the victims, on the tables. They all look remarkably similar. There's something about them. Something familiar.
Seeing the girls and knowing two of them are now dead, John can't help but think they should have been called in sooner.
"Anything?" he asks Sherlock.
Sherlock has now moved though all of the girls' uniforms, looking predominately at the sleeves and hems.
"Not much." He straightens and looks at John. "All the girls were taken from public places, but never from the same place and were never taken to the same place. Our kidnapper is very careful, selecting places where very little dust or other evidence can get onto the girls' clothing." He frowns, frustrated and turns to Dimmock. "Was there evidence of restraints on any of the girls?"
Dimmock shook his head. "None."
A deeper frown seeped into Sherlock's brow and he turns his gaze back onto John, then back to the detective. "We need to take a look at the two girls."
"I don't know if I can get you access to them," Dimmick says hesitantly.
Sherlock smiles mischievously. "That won't be a problem."
A while later they are in the morgue, examining the bodies. Molly hovers in the background, smiling faintly.
There is severe bruising around their neck and marks from an injection on their arms, but other than that, the bodies are fairly clean.
"Asphyxiation," John says after examining the bodies for a moment.
Sherlock takes this information in stride. "Anything odd about the wrists?" He asks, coming to hover at John's side.
At first, John sees nothing special about the wrists, but upon closer examination there appears to be a faint trace of adhesive.
Sherlock immediately whips out his magnify glass and takes a closer look at the adhesive.
"Molly, could you hand me a swab?"
The girl does as Sherlock asks, slightly confused.
Sherlock puts away his magnifying glass, and leans down over the wrist he is observing. He blows briefly on the adhesive and immediately swabs the area.
He looks hard at the swab as he stands. "Is the lab open upstairs?"
Molly looks rather nervous. "If this is for a case, then yes."
Sherlock nods to her and quickly dashes to the lab, eager to test the sample.
John is left standing in the morgue alone, awkwardly, with Molly. He coughs politely before following the consulting detective down to the lab.
Sherlock is bent over the microscope, examining the residue.
"So what is the residue from?" John asks, "Tape of some kind? Something used by the kidnapper as restraints?"
"Obvious." Sherlock says, a bit curtly, not looking up at John. He adjusts the focus on the microscope, trying to get a better look at what he collected from the girl's wrist. "It's what's on the tape that is important, John."
Using the fine adjustment just a bit more…ah there!
The flecks that Sherlock had collected came into focus.
They were strange granules…
He would need to run a test to figure out just what they were.
Hands moving like lightning, he quickly turns on the machine he used to locate where the pollen was from on Carl Powers shoes. The granules are obviously not pollen, but they do appear to be of natural origin. Sand or soil perhaps. The machine should assist in giving likely locations.
As he finishes, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He clenches his jaw, his hands still busy.
"John, can you pass me my phone?"
John sighs exasperatedly. Not this again.
For a moment he considers saying no, but then decides it wouldn't be worth the hassle. It's like dealing with a child; you have to pick your battles.
And this wasn't the most ridiculous thing Sherlock had ever asked him to do.
He walks over to the detective, reaches into his jacket, and retrieves the phone, being sure to be gentle. Sherlock doesn't look up from his work.
There's a single message.
"Text," he says, "From Lestrade. Wants to know if you have any developments."
Sherlock barely suppresses a sigh of frustration. He knows intellectually why Lestrade wants to know…
His daughter…
Sherlock doesn't look up from the microscope. "Tell him that I've got a lead, that I'll contact him when I have more definite facts, and that he must get some rest." He waits a moment before adding. "Please."
He focus' hard on the specimen before him, trying hard to block out the slightly shocked look on John's face that he can see out of the corner of his eye.
He doesn't need to be told that this is odd, even for him. Not just saying please, but really meaning it. He knows that something is very different in him now…
But then again, who wouldn't change at least a little after fishing your best friend's unconscious body out of a pool he threw you into to save your life?
Suddenly, a harsh blare comes from the computer.
It's found a match.
Sherlock smiles at the result. He knew it.
The dirt he collected was from an area not far from the Thames.
He stood up quickly. "Hurry, John! We have a location!"