Two
Disclaimer: merely because a lot of this is taken from the show I'll only claim Charlotte as my own. Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately belongs elsewhere
Charlie POV:
In all her 28 years of life Charlie had never seen anything quite as horrendous as this woman's fashion sense; and she'd attended university for a Criminology Degree!
"Her name is Jennifer Wilson. We're scanning her credit cards for personal details. Hasn't been here long. Found by some kids." Lestrade said behind her and Charlie turned to John as their rather estranged roommate knelt beside the dead woman. He wiped his fingers beneath her collar, emptied her pockets of any belongings she had and removed her rather shabby looking wedding ring.
"John, what do you get from the ring?" She whispered and the poor man turned to her in shock.
"Um, it's old." He said and she smirked.
"Yes, unimportant but correct." She said and he shook his head exasperatedly.
"I'd say she's been married for about 10 or more years, unhappily so. She's a serial adulteress too." Charlie said calmly and John looked at her in shock whilst Sherlock just nodded and kept inspecting his crime scene.
"If you're just making that up…" Lestrade said.
"She's German." A nasally voice broke in and Charlie turned to see Anderson leaning against the door frame.
"Rache is German for revenge. It could be a message." He said. Sherlock got up.
"Yes, thank you for your input." He said and slammed the door in his face.
"Charlotte," He demanded.
"Yes. Don't call me that!"
"Where has there been heavy rain and wind in the last three hours?" He asked, ignoring the comment.
"Cardiff." She said without bothering to look at her phone. It had been raining there this morning, when her bitch of a mother had decided enough was enough. You do not care. Her inner voice told her.
"So she's not German?" Lestrade asked.
"Not even close." She said as Sherlock went on to explain why the woman was from Cardiff, something to do with the dampness of her collar but the dryness of her umbrella.
"John you're a medical man, what do you think?" Sherlock asked and Lestrade almost blew his top at this new breach in protocol. Sherlock as always just ignored him pointing out.
"But you need me."
"Yes I do, God help me. Five minutes." He said and disappeared into the landing; calling his team away for a break.
"Come on John." Charlie said and the man sighed as he carefully eased himself down beside the body.
"What do you think?" Sherlock asked.
"Why am I doing this?" John asked pointedly and Sherlock looked at him like it was obvious.
"Helping me make a point." He answered.
"I'm supposed to help you pay the rent." John complained.
"Yes but this is more fun."
"Fantastic, I'm sharing a flat with a madman." Charlie muttered under her breath.
"I heard that.' Sherlock muttered and Charlie looked at him with a scowl. Lestrade reappeared.
"I'd say… asphyxiation, choked on her own vomit. Could have been a seizure or drugs…" John noted expertly, checking the woman's hands.
"Come on you've seen the papers." Sherlock put in and John looked shocked.
"Alright that's it. You have to tell me what you've got." Lestrade said and Sherlock did, explaining everything about her personal life down to her the size of her suitcase. Charlie was happy that her idea of a serial adulteress was correct. However the suitcase was something she had missed.
"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked.
"Oh yes the suitcase, where did you put it." Sherlock said and looked around the empty room.
"There wasn't a case." Sherlock stopped and fixed Lestrade with a penetrating stare.
"Say that again." He demanded.
"There wasn't a case." Lestrade repeated and Sherlock looked at Charlie as she gasped.
"You've got it too, oh good; I'm not the only person around here with an IQ." He said and John spluttered as did Lestrade. Sherlock rushed out into the landing and yelled.
"Has anyone seen a suitcase? Was there a suitcase anywhere in this house?"
"There was no suitcase?" Lestrade shouted.
"Oh come on. They take the pills themselves. They chew them, swallow them; there are clear signs even you lot couldn't miss."
"Yeah thanks for that.'
"Why do you keep saying it's a murder?"
"Look at her, really look at her. Where's her case did she eat it?" Sherlock mocked.
"The killer obviously has the case." Charlie said when no one said anything. Sherlock nodded.
"Oh I love serial killers, their always tricky, have to wait for them to make a mistake." He stopped.
"People could die." Lestrade said desperately.
"Look at her really look, he's already made his first one. Look at the family and friends, find Rachael." Sherlock was now running down the stairs and out the door.
"What mistake!" Lestrade demanded after him.
"Pink!" Charlie and Sherlock cried at the same time. The house was silent with shock as the two looked at each other at opposite end of the staircase. Sherlock winked up at her and was gone.
"Well that's it everyone." Lestrade said and Charlie looked at her watch.
"Holy shit, crap, damn, shit!" She yelled and more than one person looked scandalized.
"What's up?" John asked.
"I'm so late for work." Charlie said as she helped him down the stairs. Together they walked out of the house and down the garden path. Donovan was still there.
"He's gone." She said spitefully.
"Oh well, just have to catch another cab." Charlie said, not really surprised that Sherlock was gone. Being a sociopath helped her sometimes. For some reason though she was disappointed he had gone without her; life wasn't boring with him around.
"Oh well John, we'll just have our own private party without him.' Charlie joked and John smiled. A worried look came over him.
'Ah Charlie?" He asked and she broke off her staring to look at him.
"Where are we?"
"Brixton, but apart from that I have no idea." She said.
"He's abandoned you then?" Sally's voice cut through their confusion.
"More like he's gone off to do your own job for you but yeah he's gone." Charlie said. Donovan sniffed.
"Why don't you like him?" John asked her.
"Let's just say: One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there." She said snidely. Oh brother.
"Why do you say that?" John said, looking a little unsure.
"He's a psychopath and psychopaths get bored." Donovan said and Charlie felt the first waves of anger start to form.
"He's not a psychopath, more likely a sociopath and there is a fucking difference." Charlie spat and Donovan looked annoyed.
"I'll give you some advice." She said to John.
"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes." She walked off.
"Come on, I think I see human activity this way.' Charlie said and pulled John by his arm towards a busier looking road. He held out his arm for her, a complete gentleman. She stared at it for a second then looped her arm through his as they walked.
"Why did you stick up for him?" John asked, Charlie thought about it.
"No one else does, we sociopaths need to stick together.' Charlie said and John looked unconvinced.
"You don't seem to be a sociopath.' He said and she looked at him.
"Actually, I'm seeing it now.' He muttered and she nodded, unsmiling.
"I think I probably have less sociopathic tendencies then he does, he's something else." She remarked, almost to herself.
"You like him?" John queried.
'No, of course not. I'm a sociopath remember.' She rebuked and he backed down a bit, but his eyes twinkled with something akin to amusement.
"So, why do you use a cane when you don't actually need one?" Charlie asked and John looked shocked.
"I was shot.' He said and she smirked.
"Yeah well, your psychologist has it wrong." Charlie said and would say no more. At that moment a telephone booth beside them began to ring, they stared at it as they passed by didn't answer. Another started to ring a little way down the street as they passed by. Charlie shared a look with John. Another in a restaurant; stopping when the male waiter went to pick it up.
"Okay, if another one rings we'll answer.' She said and sure enough the next booth they passed began to ring. John un-looped his arm; Charlie feeling more than a little better when he did so. Not that she didn't like John but physical contact was just a little left-wing for her tastes. She watched as John picked up the phone and answered it.
"Hello." He said and listened to the response. His eyes flicked around the street and Charlie noticed that every camera he looked at turned itself away.
"Very clever." He said as a black car pulled up and the door was opened. John hung up the phone and indicated to Charlie that they had to get in. A pretty, dark haired woman sat texting by the other window and Charlie gave her a single, questioning look before giving up and ignoring her. John on the other hand tried to flirt, unsuccessfully, with her until Charlie kicked him and he shut up. The car pulled up in an underground car park and the two flat mates got out. Charlie spotted another man, leaning casually on an umbrella some 20 feet away.
"Hello John, Charlotte I'm glad you could join me." The mystery man said. He was taller than John, late 40's with thinning hair and an air of self-importance. There was something about him that seemed too familiar.
'That was quite impressive.' John said as they walked towards him.
'But I have a phone, you could have just called me, on my phone." He continued pointedly.
"Yes well," The man said, his tone sounding perpetually bored.
'When one deals with Sherlock Holmes you need to use uh discretion.' He said and Charlie quirked her eyebrow.
"You don't look very scared." This man said.
"You don't look very scary.' John replied coolly.
"You had better have a good reason why you're making me even later for work." She said and the man chuckled.
"Your supervisior has been informed that you are busy." He said and her eyes widened. Who was this man?
"Who are you?" She asked.
"The closest thing Sherlock has to a friend. He would probably call me his arch-enemy; he does tend to be a little over dramatic."
"What do you want?" Charlie asked.
"Information on Sherlock homes. Nothing intrusive, nothing to make you feel uncomfortable just his comings and goings. You would of course receive a significant amount of money for you actions…" He said but John was already shaking his head.
'No." He said and looked pointedly at Charlie. It was a hard one, if they had the money they wouldn't have to worry about rent payments but John was looking at her in such a betrayed way…
"Sorry, I can't accept." She said after a long pause. The man looked shocked.
"Come now Charlotte, we both know it's a worthy notion; pretty much hassle free.' He pointed out and once again that annoying thing known as a conscious told her not to accept.
"No." She said.
"Interesting," he said then turned back to John.
"It says here trust issues. Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people." The man asked and John immediately grew wary.
"How do you know that?" He demanded.
"You have a tremor in your left hand. Your psychologist thinks you have a tremor because of stress sustained in battle. Fire her, she's wrong. You're under stress now but your hand is perfectly steady. You don't fear the war Dr. Watson, you miss it." The man said and John seemed to be speechless.
"Told you so." She whispered and he sent her an ugly look. Both their phones rang at the same time.
If convenient come to Baker Street. SH
While she stood there marveling at Sherlock's abilities to invade her privacy. Their interrogator continued to speak. However he was cut off by their phones ringing again.
If inconvenient come anyway. SH
"I'm gonna kill him." Charlie mumbled.
"Sorry we have to go." She said as their phones rang for the first time. She didn't even bother to look at the message.
"Farewell Miss Myers, I'll be watching you very carefully."
"Yes because that's not creepy at all." She said and John chuckled as they clambered back into the car.
'Well hurry up, you know where to take us." She called to the driver who scowled and started the engine. John just looked exasperated and settled back in his seat.
Sherlock was lying on his back on the couch, his arm held before him as he breathed deeply and evenly. John went in for the kill.
"Well we're here, what is it?" He asked.
"I need to borrow your phone." He said and John spluttered. Charlie decided she wanted the couch to and sat down on Sherlock's legs making him jump. He sat up and the both of them nearly went flying.
'What the…" She simply looked at him, eyebrow quirked and he shrugged. He lay back down and closed his eyes.
'We were on the other side of London, why didn't you just call my Aunt? She has a phone." Charlie said and Sherlock smirked.
'I called out but she didn't hear me." He said and directed his voice at John.
"There's a number on that desk, type it in and write exactly what I say.' He said and waited. John picked up the piece of paper and began to type in the number.
'Do you have it?
"Yes.'
"Have you done it?"
"Nearly."
"Now.'
"Hold you bloody horses."
Charlie pulled off her shoes and settled against the back of the couch. She noticed John looking at her arm and its two nicotine patches. She plucked the packet from the floor and stuck another one on.
'Is that that three patches?" John demanded.
"It's a three patch problem." Sherlock muttered.
"Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for thinking." He said and Charlie nodded sadly looking at her own patched arm.
"Good news for breathing though.
"Urgh breathing, dull." Sherlock said disgusted.
"Alright write this down; What happened last night? I must have blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street." Sherlock said.
"You blacked out?" John asked and Sherlock shook his head.
"We met a friend of yours.' John said.
"A friend?" Sherlock looked scandalized.
"He called himself your archenemy." The confusion cleared instantly.
'Oh." He said.
"Who was he?" Charlie asked and Sherlock looked at her, she stared at him hard.
'One of the most dangerous men you will ever meet and not my concern right now." He said and went to get up, stumbling when his long legs got tangles with Charlie's and they both tumbled to the ground. Her shirt rode up and the end of an ugly looking scar appeared. Quickly she rolled it down but not before Sherlock's quick eyes saw it. The dark blue eyes seemed to darken slightly.
'Brilliant work Shirley.' Charlie snapped and glared at him.
"Where did you get that?" He asked and she quickly got up.
"None of your bloody business." She said and her eyes fell on a bright pink suitcase.
"You found it then?" She said and diverted his attention. He continued to look at her strangely but went along with it.
Yes, the killer would have had to have dropped it; look at the colour." He said and explained rapidly how he had found it in the skip based on its disgusting colour. Charlie shook her crimson head in wonder as he explained it. He was very good. She prided herself on being observant but she was nowhere near what Sherlock was.
"So the number was Jennifer's, it's not here so where is it?' She asked and John slumped in his armchair. Sherlock looked at them with a smirk. Charlie rolled her eyes as she put two and two together.
"Did I just text a serial killer?" John asked a few moments later. Silence filled the room as Charlie nursed her wounded pride and Sherlock waited. Suddenly John's phone began to ring.
"He has the phone of a woman he knows is dead yet he receives a message that can only be from her; what does he do?" Sherlock said and his eyes seemed to glitter as the phone stopped calling.
Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who has reviewed; I have been patching up a few things and hope you enjoy where this is going.