Chapter Five

Whew! Easy classes, so plenty of time to write! But don't know how often the chapters will come.

William stared at the inspector in shock. What Greg had just said flew in the face of everything he knew. But then, how had he known all of that? There was no way he could, unless…No! It was impossible. Humans cannot be angels, so why would angels be able to be human?

William narrowed his eyes at the man. "That's impossible."

Greg shrugged. "Is it really?"

"How?" asked William.

"He gave them free will. Why not us?"

Now, William frowned in confusion. "You…you chose to…" It simply boggled his mind. Why would he have wanted to become one of these lesser beings? "Why?"

"My wife," Greg answered. "Our two girls." His gaze tracked off to the side as a fond smile appeared. "I wanted a family."

William's head had slowly begun moving back and forth in lingering confusion. "How did you…"

"I fell," Greg replied.

William's frown deepened.

Greg shrugged. "Pick anything you like: a tall building, a bridge," he paused and chuckled, "the London Eye…"

The corner of William's mouth quirked upwards in amusement.

"And you just…fall," Greg explained.

William's eyes fell to the floor, stunned beyond belief. "How long has it been?"

"Fifteen years," Greg told him.

Not a long time from William's perspective, but in human terms, it was practically a fifth of their lifetime. Oh, to leave these endless, boring years behind him. To be able to perform the experiments he had thought up over the millennia, to be able to feel the rush of the chase, to touch…to feel…

But was it really worth it? Now, he got to solve cases. He was allowed unrestricted access to crime scenes and investigations. As a human, they would never let him anywhere near police matters. Sure, they had hired Greg, but William didn't have anywhere near the temperament for a job like that. No. It was better things stayed as they were.

But…

"Does anyone know?" William asked, glancing up sheepishly and almost nervous about the answer.

"I've come close to telling a few times—my wife, John—but…" Greg trailed off, shrugging. "It's too big for them. They wouldn't be able to handle it."

William sighed, realizing the truth of that; Michael had told him as much. "What does—"

Footsteps pounding down the stairs in the hallway signaled John's return, and William abruptly stood from the table.

"All right, Greg, let's go," said John, stepping into the kitchen doorway. He smiled apologetically at the angel. "Sorry to dash, William."

"It's all right," William shrugged off as John led them out towards the stairs. "So…identifying a shooter?"

"Yeah, I was coming home after a late shift the other night, and I, uh, witnessed a murder," John told him as he headed down the stairs.

William smirked behind him. "Take shortcuts down dark alleys much, do you?"

William could practically hear John's smile. "No. I heard the sound of a scuffle, so I followed it." He reached the ground floor and headed for the front door.

William stepped foot on the ground floor and stopped in stunned surprise. "You followed it? And then witnessed a murder."

John turned back to him as he grabbed his coat from the cubby just inside the door, giving him a mischievous smirk. "And then chased the murderer down."

William's brows rose in disbelief (fake disbelief; he knew John didn't actually have a bum leg, he only needed to get John to see that). "Really!" He nodded at John's cane. "With that leg?"

John glanced down at his leg as he grabbed the cane from where he had leant it against the wall. "Yeah, I know. The adrenaline kicked in, and I didn't really notice it. But, boy, it made up for it later."

"Hmm," nodded William, pleased with the answer. This would be easier than he had thought.

"Oi," said Greg behind him.

William quickly stepped aside, letting the inspector off the stairs. He followed the two of them out onto Baker Street, glancing nervously at the doctor as he locked the front door. John turned around and headed for the police car at the curb. As he opened the passenger door to climb in, William finally spoke up.

"Is it all right if I come along?" asked William.

John stopped and looked back at him.

"I'm a bit of a…mystery enthusiast," William told him with a smile. "I find detective work fascinating."

Again, there was that odd look on John's face. What was that look? It was almost as though John was trying to remember where he knew him from. Could it be possible that some part of John remembered their adventures from his childhood?

William remembered himself just in time. "If it's all right with you, Inspector Lestrade."

Greg gave him a smile and another shrug. "Yeah. Why not?"

William gave a rare smile before climbing into the backseat of the car. Greg headed to the driver's door and hopped in, pulling away from 221.

"So, you like detective stories?" John asked, turning his head to look at William.

"Oh, yes." William nodded once. "My favorite section at the library." He glanced at Greg to see the inspector giving him a secret smile.

"How'd you get into that?" asked John.

"Jack the Ripper," William told him.

"Really?" asked John, brows raising.

"Five known killings—there were actually nine—and he still managed to elude the police," William began rattling off. "Even the victims themselves didn't have a clue as to his identity. He was without a doubt the most intelligent criminal I've ever met."

"Met?" asked John with a frown.

William hesitated only a moment. "Well, wanted to meet." He glanced up at the rearview mirror to see Greg giving him a look.

Watch it, it said.

William wanted to roll his eyes at Greg, had John not been looking at him right then. There was no way for John to figure out the truth unless William told him flat out.

"You know, I'm something of a mystery enthusiast myself," said John.

"You are?" asked William, sitting forward in interest.

"Yeah," said John, shifting a little more towards William. "It's incredible what you can draw from the tiniest of details."

"Details are, by far, the most important," William pointed out.

"Apparently," said John. "I've kind of studied the science of deduction."

"You have?" asked William in surprise.

"Yeah," said John. "Now, I'm no expert. I could never actually make it as a detective, but…" he shrugged with a smile, "I know a thing or two."

William watched him for a moment, sensing that there was something more to his statement. There was something John wasn't telling them, probably the same secret William had observed that John had before.

"Impressive," said William.

Greg led John and William into Scotland Yard, heading through the hallways towards the viewing rooms.

"Just need you to make a positive ID," Greg told John as they stepped into the room.

John followed, glancing through the one-way mirror at the man sitting handcuffed in the interrogation room. He paused a moment before nodding. "That's him."

Greg nodded. "All right." He began turning towards the door to head out.

William narrowed his eyes at the murderer on the other side of the glass, taking in the shoes the man was wearing. "He's not alone."

Greg came to a stop as he and John both looked over at him.

"Sorry?" asked Greg.

"He's not working alone," William told them. "He has an accomplice."

"How can you tell?" Greg asked, turning towards him.

"His shoes," William answered. At their blank looks, he elaborated. "The photos of the crime scene showed footprints that were deeper on the outside than the inside, suggesting the owner had genu varum, or 'bow legs.'" He nodded at the man in the interrogation room. "Mr. Crane, however, does not."

"You haven't even seen him out of that chair," Greg pointed out.

"The soles of his shoes show even wear," William told him. "If he was bow-legged, the outsides of his shoes would be more worn than the insides. Conclusion: someone else was there."

"Could it have been footprints from earlier?" asked John.

"Unlikely," William answered. "The victim's missing earring was pressed into the mud, which means that the footprint was made after the victim had been down that alley."

John stared at him with a faint smile. "Fantastic."

William shrugged. "Elementary."

John frowned and looked away, eyes darting back and forth in thought.

Greg stepped up closer to William, lowering his voice so John wouldn't hear. "You've been following me around, haven't you?"

"Don't think yourself special, Greg," William whispered back. "I've been following detectives for over a hundred years."

Greg looked back at the criminal in the other room. "That wasn't a 'no.'"

William smirked. "No, it wasn't."

"Down!"

John ducked as William did the same, listening to the ricochet of the bullet above their heads.

On a suggestion of William's, he and John had gone to the crime scene to see if they could hunt down the other guy. Fortunately (in William's opinion, anyway), they had found the clue that had led them here.

William grabbed hold of John's shoulder, yanking him up from the ground. "This way!"

John hurried off after him as the shooter gave chase. William led John around the corner of the building, smiling slightly in victory at the sound of John's footfalls behind him.

Cane and limp abandoned, check, he thought. Now, if only I could feel the thrill of the chase—

"John!" William shouted, ducking into a corner to his left.

John slammed to a stop against the wall next to him.

"Do you have your gun?" asked William.

John frowned at him. "How do you know—"

"You're a soldier, John!" hissed William. "Obvious!"

"No, it's in the safe at my flat," John told him.

William glanced around at their feet as the sounds of running footsteps sounded in the alley. He spotted an old metal pipe against the wall. "John."

"What?"

"Pipe."

"Got it," said John, picking the pipe up and holding it up next to his head at the ready.

The footsteps neared and, just as they reached the alley, John swung the pipe down and hit the shooter's gun arm, knocking the gun from his grasp as he doubled over and grabbed at his broken arm. William immediately darted forward, grabbing up the gun as soon as it had hit the ground. He tossed it to John as John dropped the pipe and caught the gun, aiming it at the guy.

"Don't move," John told the criminal, his gaze hard as he kept the man in his sights.

"Can I borrow your phone?" William asked.

"Coat pocket," John answered shortly.

William dug in the outside right pocket of John's coat, pulling the phone out and dialing Greg.

After the police had apprehended the shooter, William and John headed away from the crime scene, strolling along the pavement.

"So, where's your phone?" asked John.

"Not on me," William answered curtly.

John chuckled. "Are you always like this?"

"Like what?" asked William.

"You know, an amazing detective with a love of working outside the law and a penchant for sarcasm," said John.

"For as long as I can remember," said William with a shrug.

John smirked. "Hmm."

"What?"

"Well, it's just that you remind me of a certain detective," said John.

"I do? Which one?"

"You ever hear of Sherlock Holmes?" asked John.

"In fact, I have," William answered. "Just recently." He frowned. "Which is ironic, considering his best friend in the stories is Dr. John Watson."

John's smile faltered as he shrugged. "Well, it is a pretty common name. But, yeah, ironic." He gave a chuckle.

William narrowed his eyes at him, recognizing that something was off but not sure what.

"So, you thought about what we talked about?" asked John, changing the subject.

"What about?" asked William.

"Molly," said John.

William nervously shifted, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. "I have."

"And?" asked John, peering closely at him.

"And I have no assurances that she feels the same way," William replied.

"Well, why don't you ask her out?" suggested John. "That'd be a great way to find out."

"For the same reason you haven't asked Mary out," William replied.

John stared at him, his jaw slack. After a moment, he nodded. "Fair enough."

William glanced sideways at John after a while and grinned. "By the way…"

John looked over at him.

"I think you left your cane at the murderer's house," William told him.

John came to a stop as William continued on, glancing down at his empty hands. He looked back up at William, who glanced back at him, with a shocked expression before smiling and then laughing, hurrying to catch up.