Hello! Yes. Yes. I know. looooooooong time between updates. I'm sorry! I love you all!
Chapter 21
Sofitel Hotel
Presidential Suite
Melbourne CBD
Victoria
Howell yanked on a jacket as the sun set on the western horizon and far below, bustling Melbourne grew rowdier as the crowds spilled in for the night life. He loved Fridays.
Howell turned to see Sophie, her black hair forming a curtain, curling up on the couch and switching the TV on,
"I'm leaving," he said and she turned with a small smile on her face,
'Will you be back soon?" she asked,
"Probably not," Howell fixed his collar and ran a hand through his golden hair, knowing that he didn't need to comb it,
"Okay," Sophie turned back to the TV, bored, irritated and uncaring.
Howell left the suite without a backwards glance and walked towards the elevator, the solid heels of his shoes clinking on the tiled floor beneath him.
Reaching the elevator, the billionaire entered as the doors opened and pressed the button for the ground floor. Wonder if there's anything vaguely interesting in the casino today? He thought idly as the lift descended, and then he chuckled aloud as he remembered the last time something 'vaguely interesting' happened at the Casino. Two deaths and an attempted robbery.
The press had a field day and the casino got so much publicity, his business boomed for an entire month afterwards.
The elevator opened on the ground floor and Howell stepped out – almost running into a slightly shorter-than-average man with blonde hair and blue, blue eyes. Howell was frozen as the man smiled slightly and stepped back,
"Sorry," The English accent was clear, "You go first," Howell blinked stupidly then remembered that he owned the place,
"Thank you," He said, and stalked away without another word.
John watched Howell depart and shook his head. The shock of coming face to face with the man he was meant to arrest was…well…shocking. The doctor and Sherlock had returned to the Hotel about half an hour ago, and Sherlock wanted some milk – for what, John didn't particularly want to know – so the doctor decided he would go and get it.
He had been feeling a little restless, and it wasn't just because Stone had called and asked how things were going. It was also because Stone had said that the Police picked up rumours about a new poker game, and how there was a new player in town. John had to physically stop himself from shivering when he realised the new player they were talking about was him.
Walking out of the elevator on their floor, John arrived at their room and opened the door and promptly dropped the milk, slamming the door shut behind him, turning the lock, and running over to Sherlock, lying dazed on the floor, white dust around him, and a chair toppled over next to him.
"What the hell happened?" the doctor asked, scanning Sherlock over for injuries, his heart beating faster than he thought possible,
"I dunno," Sherlock sat up, his black curls falling into his eyes, groaning slightly as he his head throbbed. Meanwhile the doctor had a mini panic attack. Sherlock always knows.
"Sherlock?" The doctor turned the detective's face towards him, forgetting completely that they needed to use cover names. The detective stared into John's eyes, as the doctor went through several scenarios. Howell could've come here. He couldn't…maybe…they tried to kill Sherlock? A blow to the head would cause a concussion…
"I think this is why you're not meant to play with wires…" The detective mumbled, stoping John's thoughts in their tracks.
It was an effort not to slap the detective as relief washed through John, "WHAT?" he asked, his voice rising in volume and pitch. Sherlock cringed slightly, and pointed up. John followed the finger and stared at the hole in the ceiling and the wires hanging out of it. John blinked and then collapsed as he realised that being away for five minutes didn't mean that Sherlock would be attacked and almost killed.
"Idiot,' he muttered under his breath, lying back and closing his eyes, allowing his heart to slow down and enjoying the soft feel of the carpet beneath him. He didn't move as Sherlock laid down next to him, and took his hand,
"John," Sherlock said,
"Yes?'
"Sorry,"
There was a quiet sigh as the doctor moved and wrapped his arms around the detective, pulling him close and breathing in the Sherlock-y scent.
Outside the Sofitel Hotel
Melbourne CBD
Victoria
"He's left the building,' Outside the hotel, in a white van two AFP agents sat and watched as Howell left on foot,
"Copy that," Lestrade's voice sounded over the radio, and the Aussie agents, Mitchell Peterson and James Smith exchanged a glance. The English have very different ways of working to what they did,
"We're tailing him now," Sergeant Donovan's voice informed then and James smiled,
"She's an interesting one,"
"Can you keep you hands of anything that wears a skirt?" Mitch asked, eyeing James dubiously,
" 'corse I can, keep my hands of my wife, don't I?" James gave a wicked grin with Mitch couldn't help but reply with one as well,
'You're disgusting,"
"And you're pathetic. If you got any more devoted to your wife, you'd be building her an altar,"
"Shut up," Mitch shoved him playfully,
"Turning left on Exhibition Street," Sally's voice sounded again,
"Keep following at a distance," Mitch sent the message back out and turned to his partner,
"Want to get an iced coffee?" he asked, and James nodded,
"You go get it…I'm going to stay here…her voice is rather…distracting," Mitch shook his head,
"You're never going to change, are you?"
'Nope," James stretched out and kicked his feet out on the dashboard. Mitch laughed outright this time, as he carefully climbed from the back of the van and onto the road.
This was actually proving to be a remotely fun assignment.
Exhibition Street
Melbourne CBD
Victoria
Sally sighed, as, for the second time, Howell decided to pull into one of the many stores that they passed.
'What's with the man? He's more inclined to shopping that I am!" she exclaimed, wrenching a magazine of the rack at the random news hub on the street. Lestrade watched her with a bemused expression,
'Don't take it out on the magazine, I'm not paying for it," he said and Sally cast him a dirty look,
"Shut up," she said, placing the magazine back onto its stand and dragging Lestrade into the shady, cool corner of the building, from where they could still watch Howell, but not be seen by him,
"Why can't the AFP do this part?"
"Because we're the underdogs who need to be stuck outside on a forty degree day." Lestrade unbuttoned his collar down two buttons and sighed slightly as a tiny bit of evening air washed over them,
"This isn't fair," Sally pouted,
'Life isn't fair," The detective responded. Sally was about to tell him that she would personally make life harder for him if he started getting philosophical about everything, when Lestrade straightened as Howell emerged from the jewelers and checked the street up and down,
"Suspicious much?" Sally asked looking at Lestrade,
"I know," Lestrade said, watching as the man continue walking down the street, 'C'mon," Lestrade led the way this time, crossing the street, as the signal turned green, never taking his eyes off Howell.
'Where is he going? A man like him should have his own driver, in a nice, air-conditioned limo. He should not be walking around in this heat."
"Are you just saying that because you'd like to be in a nice, air-conditioned, limo?' Lestrade asked, a teasing hint to his tone as Sally crossed her arms, very much like a child,
'Don't go there," she said, facing him as he continued to watch Howell amble down the street,
"Go where?" he asked, a smile building on his lips as he glanced down at Sally before looking away and back to Howell. The sergeant's eyes darkened a fraction,
"Shut up," she said.
There was a moment of silence as the heat acted like a blanket, seeming to seal away the noises of the evening city, cocooning Sally and Lestrade in their own little world of following a man.
"I was in that conversation and don't think I understood anything we just said," Lestrade stated, breaking the silence,
A beat more of quiet went by and then suddenly both of them were laughing. The DI, laughing like never before as the stupidity of their conversation hit them.
Lestrade had honestly not laughed this hard in a very, very long time. By the time he was panting and his vision had cleared, Howell was a good two hundred meters ahead of them,
'Come on," the DI said, grabbing Sally's hand and dragging her forward,
Laughing, she followed behind him. Both of them were still chocking as Howell turned the next street and the two London police officers ran to keep up with him. They stopped before they reached the corner and Lestrade, feeling just a little drunk, but a finger to his lips and looked around the corner to see Howell enter yet another shop,
'He's-he's in another shop," The DI said, turning to face Sally, struggling to get her breath back,
"Again?" she panted, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground.
Lestrade joined her as they both caught their breath, sitting and watching as a tram went past, the bell ringing in the still, steadily cooling air.
"Do you think we should check in?" Lestrade asked,
"With the AFP?" Sally asked,
"Yeah,"
"No. They made us run around, they can check in with us," Lestrade turned to look at the sergeant.
A minute more of silence went by and he leant around the corner. No sign of Howell on the street yet.
"A lot has changed in the past year, huh?" Lestrade said, coming back to his original position and Sally turned to look at him. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, on the tall, shiny buildings in front of him.
"Yeah, you could say that," Sally said, keeping her voice completely neutral,
"This time, last year…"
"I was insulting Sherlock, you were yelling at me and I actually liked Anderson,"
"I have no idea what you saw in him," Lestrade said, laughing slightly,
"Neither do I," Sally said, chuckling. "Oh yeah," she said, "we didn't even know John back then,"
"Thank god for John," Lestrade said,
"Mmm. Sherlock would probably have killed someone by now,"
"Nah," Lestrade said, one side of his mouth curving up in a smile, "He would've just made it look like he killed someone to have a little fun," Sally laughed.
People walked past them, ignoring the two as they sat there, and every so often, Lestrade leant out to see if anything was happening with Howell. The sun had moved a fair bit when Lestrade and Sally, both who were starting to doze off in the beautiful, late summer conditions, were jerked awake as a commotion rang out from the street round the corner. Police instincts kicking in, both were on their feet in a second, and Lestrade had his hand on his gun.
"What the hell?" he whispered looked round to Sally, as the voices got louder,
"Have a look," Sally said. The detective inspector leaned out slightly and watched as Howell shoved a man against the wall, and then, despite it being broad daylight, despite there being people everywhere, he took out a gun and shot the man in the forehead, the silencer not allowing anyone to hear what was happening, and Howell's body blocking the view of people on the street.
And then he walked away, pocketing the gun, as a woman realised that there was a dead man. Lestrade watched in horror as no one, not a single person on the street suspected the smartly dressed man who just kept on walking.
There we go. Another chapter down. and the story is building. I seriously, honestly, promise there will be more action.
There we go. Long enough? Good enough? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
And I know I said that I'd update soon, but I had work experience and then I had exams and…yeah. TOO MUCH WORK! Sorry!
But I'm sick today, and that's why there's an update. So there.
Aza
xoxo