"Sherlock Holmes!"
"Yes, it's me."
"How dare you?!"
"Oh, do tell what I've done this time, Inspector." Sherlock snapped his laptopshut with a huff, bouncing back into the chair. He was still in the investigation room; Agent Bristow hadn't been there when he'd returned.
"Oh, no. Don't you even think of using your snobbish voice in this situation, detective," Lestrade snarled.
Sherlock almost growled animalistically in response. He was busy. "Get to your point."
"My point, Sherlock, is that John H. Watson- your best friend, yeah? Your flatmate? You remember him? He almost died."
"He assuredly did not. I found an email on my laptop from Mycroft; the wire measuring his heart monitor merely had a malfunction."
"Yeah, well, while you were sitting on your ass playing games with our suspect, the majority of the POLICE DEPARTMENT was TAKING YOUR PLACE! Sherlock, you needed to be there, you dolt!"
"I was not playing games," Sherlock retorted. "I was gathering information. I found plenty for you to go off, really. Agent... Bristow, was it? Yes- she's looking into it." So am I, he added internally, but the inspector didn't need to know exactly how many confidential files he had access to.
"I notice you're blatantly ignoring the more important part of that- just like you ignored the intercom," Lestrade hissed. "Listen- you should be the one over there, worrying about John! We thought he had died- again!"
"Well, he hasn't, now, has he?" Sherlock snapped. "If you really don't mind, I'm working here. You can try to interrogate him again, if you'd like."
"Oh, yes. Wouldn't want you to be distracted. Tell me, Sherlock; what is John going to think if he wakes up and you're not there?"
When. When he wakes up, not if.
Sherlock nearly fell out of the chair at his internal voice before recovering quickly. "You tell me, Lestrade; you'll be there to see his reaction, anyways, since you and your department have 'taken my place,' as you so phrased it. Now, I have work to do, unlike you simple-minded people who are sitting there worrying."
"Sherlock!"
"WHAT?!"
Lestrade was silent for a moment. "You know
what? Sod this. Sod you, you machine. You emotionless machine. God, and I thought you cared about him, you know? Do you, really?"
The detective flipped around without replying, taking a half-intrigued glance around the room before opening his laptop again. He ignored the detective as he left, typing away until Lestrade came back with Donovan, Anderson, and another agent.
"Right." Lestrade sighed before gesturing to the man; Sherlock kept an eye on the four as he worked. "Okay, so, Golding, you'll be in charge of the interrogation. If the intercom buzzes, come out here," he growled, casting a glance at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes. The fourth detective- Golding- nodded his head and walked in. The man in the interrogation room didn't even bat an eye; Sherlock stood, raising an eyebrow at the newer detective, before walking out.
"And where do you think you're going?" Lestrade asked, bristling.
"I am going back to my lab for research. Too much stupid in the room here. I need a place to think. Unless, of course, you're insinuating I need to stay and listen in to a private police investigation?"
Lestrade narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, who briskly walked out the door and didn't bother taking a cab. He also really needed to check on his experiment on the rate of hair growth on a corpse; that was a previous ongoing investigation, one which was probably botched by now. It had been almost twelve days since he had done any experiments; two weeks ago, he had been dashing around London, gathering clues for Moriarty's other crimes.
He also really needed to get back to those, too. It was quite obvious the police department wasn't doing much.
Sherlock strode into the mortuary, easily finding Molly. She was bent over a body, doing a quick post-mortem, but straightened when the detective burst through the doors. Lighter hair, darker skin- she's recently been on holiday. No new jewelry, so it wasn't a luxury trip; most likely family, to a place too far away to not be raining, but too close to be considered truly foreign. New mascara, new lipstick, she's lost four- no, three pounds since a few weeks ago. Not a diet, though; her hands are steady and she doesn't look tired or too well-rested.
"Sh-Sherlock! What are you doing here?" Molly asked, stepping around the table and wiping her hands on her lab coat.
"I need heads," he declared, glancing down at her. "Bring them to my room. Four of them. Fresh, preferably."
"O-Of course. How's John?" she asked innocently.
Sherlock started, taking a step that seemed to go backwards and forwards simultaneously. He stared at her, unblinking, before turning and walking out. "The heads, Molly!" he called over his shoulder.
Molly found him an hour later, typing away at his laptop with one hand while squeezing a dropper onto something with the other. He didn't even glance up as she opened the doors.
After a moment or two, it was evident Sherlock was immersed in his studies. "Sherlock- I, uhm, brought your heads," she offered, gesturing to the covered cart.
He made a noncommittal noise, surprising Molly- since when did Sherlock make any noise that wasn't a razor-sharp sentence of argument or deduction? She frowned, tilting her head curiously as he waved his hand towards an empty counter on one side of the room. Sighing, Molly wheeled the cart over before turning. She walked over behind him- he was on his website, switching between typing and scribbling down notes with one hand and prodding some sort of metal with the other.
"What are you doing?" She prompted again.
"Measuring the rate and degree of rust on metal with the precipitation of various spots in London."
"Oh, that sounds… interesting." She swayed back on her heels before rolling to her toes. It wasn't like she was infatuated with Sherlock; his off-kilter demeanor today just had her a bit concerned. She'd thought he would have been in the hospital with John, and yet here he was- on an experiment like nothing had happened.
"So how's John?" she tried again, trying to pull a conversation out of him. He shrugged, staring at his work. Molly bit her lip.
"Okay, well. Your heads are over there. Tell me if you need anything." She walked out of the room, receiving no response. She wasn't unused to Sherlock being cold; she was also just used to him being cold and, well… calculating. Normally, Sherlock would voice his deductions about her- surely he had noticed the slight highlights in her hair?- but today, there wasn't anything. He had seemed totally closed off to conversation.
Back in his room, Sherlock had barely noticed Molly's presence at all; only his glance towards the cart, almost half an hour later, made him realize she had been in.
His door clicked open again, and Sherlock was about to grumble he hadn't needed anything else when he saw who it was- none other than Sally Donovan.
"What are you doing?" He asked, straightening with a hardened expression flitting onto his face. He shut his laptop and notebook, bracing his hands on the side of the table.
"I could ask the same for you. Normally I wouldn't concern myself with you, freak, but for the past week or so you've been especially inhumane," she hissed.
"You're just realizing my abnormalities now?" He raised an eyebrow menacingly.
"Shut up for a moment," she bristled, before calming down. "I know you're not exactly... normal, and that you're ever-so-dedicated to your work, but... don't you care at all about Doctor Watson?"
"Oh, and I suppose the entire rest of the force is, like you, just consumed with their worry?" Sherlock was now standing motionless across the table. Sally honestly couldn't decide if his eyebrows were raised or narrowed, in way of taunting or showing anger.
"Yes, actually, we're all worried, why do you think Lestrade's letting you just- boss him around without question? He's gotten madder at you in the past week than he probably has in the last year." She waved her hand as if gesturing towards him. "He's so caught up, he probably hasn't even noticed I'm not at the office."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Mind you, it might just be you preoccupying yourself with work, but-"
"Miss Donovan, I don't appreciate the rambling. Get to the point." Sherlock was getting infuriated, anxious, even, with every passing second.
"To me, it seems like you just worked significantly more efficiently without John around," Sally blurted out. Sherlock froze.
"It's been nine days since I've done any crime scene deductions. Why are you on this now?"
"Because you stopped, too! It's- it's erratic, Holmes!"
Sherlock exhaled loudly through his nose, glaring at her. She had interrupted his experiment to discuss his deduction... habits?
"I mean," she went on, "you realized there were bombs in the trash cans in the alley, activated by rain nonetheless, not even a full minute after you arrived on scene. You and Lestrade got everyone out and managed to get a hold of significant evidence before they were set off. If John had been there, you would have been voicing your- your deductions," she growled, "sharing a laugh, and walking right by the bins as they blew up in everyone's faces. I know it for a fact, Sherlock; in all the years I've worked in the force I don't once remember you ever figuring something out so fast. Not when you first started working, not when you were doing drugs, definitely not when John came into the picture, and even before then, when Myc-"
"Shut up." It was more of a bark than any normal, humane noise, but Sally glared at him and continued.
"That was the fastest I've ever seen you work- and then, and then you just disappear. We've had other cases, you know, in the past ten days. No one knows what you're doing. Nobody! You just poured all of your deducing out and then left, and I hate to say it, but the department kind of relies on you for a good majority of our bigger cases." She made a face as if the words left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.
"What I'm saying, freak, is that you need to get over yourself and think of other people. I don't know what you're thinking, obsessing over John for a day and then practically forgetting about him, but it's got to stop. Yeah, you might miss him, but John slows you down. Even now, you're so worried about him you're no help to anyone. Either go visit him- or don't, I don't really care- but get over it and get back on your feet. Look at you!"
It was silent for a moment. Dead silent, before a growl rumbled deep in Sherlock's throat. God, he might as well been an animal, for all the ruckus he had been making lately.
"Are you suggesting John Watson hinders my deductions?"
Sherlock rounded the table, stepping almost nose-to-nose with the policewoman until she hastily stepped back. "Are you foolishly assuming John slows me down? If I'm ever at a point where I cannot deduce properly, when other people think too loud, when there is too much stupid in the room- then I yell at everyone to shut up. I yell at Anderson to turn around. And I've yelled at John to stop thinking. Have you ever realized we've also never been at a crime scene that proffered forthcoming danger? Not once has this force stepped onto a scene that was mere minutes from exploding like it did that day. So don't you dare," he raged, "let your painfully simple mind assume that my deduction skills are inhibited by my inclination towards conversation. I wouldn't put John before deductions. I wouldn't put a person's ability to inflate my ego before my ability of solving a crime scene. I wouldn't put entertainment before murder. Miss Donovan, don't you DARE," he roared, "think that I would be so foolish as to refuse to prevent the deaths of several people simply for a few more seconds of awing an audience with my intellect.
"Furthermore, I'm not being worrisome or foolish because I'm sitting there like you lot, twiddling my thumbs over a lost cause." Sherlock practically snorted. "I'm not hunched over in some dark alleyway, worried sick about John, nor am I constantly by his bedside like a mother. I'm busy, working on a huge and twisted case, twisted by none other than Moriarty himself. I can't speak for London's police," he spat, "but I've actually made progress on this. The first intelligent criminal London has ever, seen, and-" he let out a strangled laugh- "and you're too worried about some shot doctor, just mucking things up with your stupid little brains!"
The detective fell silent. Sally just stared at him.
"So that's it, then."
He glanced up at her, a glint in his eyes.
"I- I get it now." She laughed, half hysterical. "You fooled me. Hell, you've fooled everyone. Fooled us into thinking you might actually care about another person. But you don't." She began to shake her head, a disapproving smile on her face. You don't care. About John. No, not at all. 'I wouldn't put John before deductions.' 'You're too worried about some shot doctor," she mocked, shoving the detective's words in his face. "You can't even put your friend's life before your work as an unpaid, infuriating help in the police force. No, you just dive right into the mystery, don't you? You're not figuring this case out- this 'amazing, intelligent' case of Moriarty's- for vengeance, for John, for your friend," she spat. "No, you're figuring it out for the chase. To find and outsmart the one man who's ever been an intellectual challenge, aren't you? You emotionless machine," she snapped. "It's funny, really, because you'll end up obsessing over this man, this criminal, only to realize his crimes were never about you. The one thing you actually care about and focus on, this Moriarty-" she cut off, laughing. "He might just want you out of the way. Like we do, sometimes. You're just a pest, an insufferable pest. I don't even know why I'm here anymore; it's obvious there's no sense left to knock back into you. Have fun with Moriarty; you two make a great pair."
And with that, she stormed out. The door slammed shut behind her, rattling the cases on the wall before it fell silent again.
Sherlock exhaled, clenching and unclenching his fists before walking back over to his lab table.
He appeared interested for a total of two minutes before he sighed loudly and jumped up, briskly walking over to one of the many bookshelves. He started at the top, scanning each book spine as he moved down the rows.
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, why is there nothing? Sherlock paced back and forth, thinking, thinking, why couldn't he think? He needed his mind cleared. He needed a place to focus on the case. It was eating at him, absolutely tearing at his brain, and he rattled it again- the third time in, what, a while? But it did nothing to cleanse his mind.
It wasn't that he didn't have the thoughts; oh, no. His mind was positively whirling, racing, blundering madly through the darkness and he couldn't find a light. He couldn't focus, he couldn't stay on any one thought. His mind was buzzing, shaking like an engine, raring to go with no destination, trying to follow a case without a properly working brain. He was 'frazzled;' it seemed to be the best term. Sherlock felt like a shorted fuse, and it was driving him mad, that he needed to think so much right now, at the exact time his brain chose to snap its threshold to bits.
He glanced at the clock; it was 8:45 at night. What? Donovan had seen him at about four. Four. What had he spent the better part of five hours even doing? He didn't know, and it was worrying. Sherlock always knew. Granted, he would prattle on endlessly while thinking and not notice when people left- but that was when he was thinking. And when he had someone- something- to keep him grounded.
Author's Note:
Oh my god I am so so so sO sorry it's been so long, after we got back from Florida I was practically drowning in work to do. So, yes, I apologize for that, and bring you an angry Sherlock and argumentative Donovan. I do have the next couple of chapters already written, too, so that's good- and I'll upload the next one pretty soon. Get ready for an even angrier Lestrade, too (because I apparently can't keep him from getting mad).
I'm speculating about writing an angry Mycroft/Epic Holmes Fight scene coming up, with the Holmes brothers at each others' throats a bit, so if you have any comments on that just let me know :)
Apologies again for the long wait, and the next chapter will be up really soon, I just have to edit over the final parts. Thanks for reading, and comments/critiques/reviews are greatly appreciated!