Chapter Two: Aftermath

Disclaimer: We own nothing apart from the character of Leah Conrad.

Leah stared blankly at the computer screen in front of her. She didn't care for the global warming activity that she had been told to endure by her biology teacher. She especially didn't care for the Snab website that it featured on. Eventually she gave in and slammed her laptop shut in despair, no longer able to stomach revising for the ridiculous module on a topic that she already knew more about than the apparently intellectually-challenged people who had constructed the Edexcel A2 course.

She was right. She did know more than them. In fact, Leah Conrad knew more than most.

Sherlock dove straight in, prodding at the body, a calculating expression on his face as he deduced the cause of death.

After the maintenance man finally got over the shock of seeing the dead body and regained his composure, he managed to mutter: "Are you sure…th…that you should you be…you know, tampering with the evidence like that, Sir?"

"Quite sure," Sherlock shot back.

"Oh…are you with the…er…the Old Bill then, eh?"

"I am most certainly not. And I'd really appreciate it if you could stop talking all together and leave the stuttering to Molly, here," Sherlock said as he turned to face her. "Fetch me lime water, Molly. Do hurry."

"Oh…ok, right away," she obliged, while moving John over to rest on the wall.

"I'll call Lestrade and explain the situation, shall I?" John offered.

"I'd rather you didn't but I understand that is the usual protocol so you can go ahead if you insist. Just as long as he doesn't bring along Anderson; one non-functioning brain is more than enough in this lift," Sherlock replied.

"No you hang up, Carol," Lestrade insisted in an uncharacteristically flirtatious tone to the woman on the receiving end of his phonecall. "No, really, I've got to go, so you hang up."

"How I about I hang up for you!" Donavan exclaimed as she burst into her boss's office.

"Donavan! What do you think you're doing? Get out now. I'm in the middle of a personal conversation." Lestrade `shouted at his officer.

"Oh Greg, I love it when you get angry!" Carol said to him, provoking a giggle from Lestrade, distracting his attention away from Donavan.

"Sir! Sir!" Sally tried to get his focus back on her.

"What, Donavan? I thought I told you to leave!" Lestrade scolded her, eager to get back to Carol.

"John Watson is on the other line; he and his freaky friend are at St. Bart's, and they've found a dead body," she explained.

"A dead body? At a hospital? No! Don't tell me, they've walked into the morgue?" Lestrade said wide-eyed, his voice dripping with sarcasm mainly for Carol's entertainment, who was in hysterics.

"No Sir, it's Stamford Sir, he's been found dead in the lift."

Lestrade's face fell as he took in Sally's words. He was silent for some time before suddenly remembering his phonecall: "Look, Carol, something serious has come up, I've got to go," he explained, hanging up before she even had a chance to reply.

Lestrade practically sprinted up the stairs to the floor of the crime scene at St. Bart's, with Anderson and Donavan lagging behind in tow.

When he reached the lift, he stopped abruptly, taking in the sight, unable to mask his horror. "I can't believe it. Mike! How? Why? What…" he started.

"Asphyxiation," Sherlock cut in, beginning his explanation. "He was trapped in the lift with a canister containing what he assumed to be oxygen gas, seeing as this would not seem out of place in hospital. When in actual fact it contained liquid carbon dioxide, most likely to be used to cool the machinery underground. He made the unfortunate and quite frankly foolish mistake of stepping into the lift with it. The lift stopped and he was trapped inside with it overnight, which was more than enough time for the carbon dioxide to escape as gas. As more and more CO2 escaped, the less oxygen there was available. Eventually, the oxygen concentration in the lift dropped so low that he was unable to breathe at all."

Sherlock looked round to see the same shocked expression on each of his audience members' faces.

"So, why didn't he…" Anderson began to question.

"Call for help?" Sherlock finished the question for him, and then proceeded to answer: "Well, he did, obviously, as is apparent by his handprints on the SOS phone. But whoever received his phonecall didn't want to help him. Or more likely, the phone connection had been disabled."

"So, this was intentional?" Donavan asked.

"Very good Donavan, you're improving every time!" Sherlock remarked.

She simply rolled her eyes; used to his incessant put-downs.

"So, who wanted to kill him? I mean, who would want to kill someone like Mike?" Lestrade asked, still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"Nobody," Sherlock answered.

"Care to explain a little further," Anderson pushed.

"Oh yes, of course. My apologies, I do sometimes need to be reminded just how stupid you really are!" Sherlock said with a smirk.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Lestrade suddenly exploded. "Enough of your playground banter, Sherlock. Stamford was my friend, and a bloody good one too, so just tell me what the hell happened to him."

Sherlock was put out, but did as he was told nonetheless due to his undeniable respect and admiration for Lestrade. "The killer was in fact after Molly," he stated, ignoring the gasp that came from the girl in question. "As you can see from the cups and spilt coffee, Stamford was in fact on his way up to give us our drinks. Drinks which Molly had got, and was on her way up with, before she stepped out of the lift to retrieve a blood sample at my request and handed the coffees to Stamford, who had offered to bring them up."

"So, it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time," the maintenance man added, whose presence had been forgotten until that moment.

"And who the bloody hell are you?" Lestrade asked, his head snapping round to face the unfamiliar man.

"I was called up to open the lift," he explained apologetically.

"Oh, right, well in that case you'll need to stick around so we can get a statement from you," Lestrade said.

"Sir," Anderson interjected.

"Sure, go ahead," Lestrade said with a nod, allowing his forensics officer to begin an examination.

Sherlock merely tutted as Anderson stepped into the lift, holding back from delivering any scathing insults as to not upset Lestrade further. He walked away in an attempt to distract himself from noticing everything Anderson was doing wrong, which happened to be everything.

When Sherlock left the lift, he could hear the sound of sobbing, which he instantly recognised as coming from Molly. He turned to see her in the corner, being consoled by John, who had one hand pressed against the wall to keep him upright, and the other, delicately patting Molly's back. Sherlock chose to ignore the situation; crying was pointless he had concluded long ago, because sadness was pointless, as were all emotions for the matter, in his opinion.

"It's…all…my…fault," Molly said, stuttering not because of Sherlock this time, but due to her tears. "I should…I should…have been the one…the one in the lift. I should have…died!"

"No! Don't be silly. This was not your fault at all. If anyone, it was Sherlock's!" John tried to console Molly, but it only made her wail louder.

"I shouldn't have let…let him take the coffee…why did I let him?" she cried out, through her sobs.

"Because he offered! You mustn't blame yourself Molly, what happened was a product of chance," John told her. He received no reply; just more tears.

"Donavan, get down to security and look at the CCTV footage from the lift last night and try and get a recording from the phonecall, if there was one," Lestrade ordered, and she immediately obeyed; turning on her heel and starting in the direction of the stairs. Lestrade then turned to Sherlock and asked: "Do you think the killer will try a second hit on Molly?"

"It's quite possible," Sherlock said, matter-of-factly, but Lestrade could make out the concern hidden in his voice, which he chose not to mention.

"Well then, we better catch this bastard as soon as we can," Lestrade told him decisively.

A/N: The first section of this chapter may seem somewhat irrelevant but we promise it's not, and everything will be pieced together eventually! The references to biology revision were put in because it was our own revision that gave us inspiration for this fic. And Edexcel, we love you really! ;)

Pleeeeease review, it would mean a lot to us to know what you think of our story!