CHAPTER SIX. THE KEY, THE CAR AND THE RIVER
Sherlock stepped into Lestrade's office, he'd done so on numerous occasions, he'd broken in countless times as well. But always with the expectation of
the DI finding him, scolding him and throwing him out. This was the game between the two, and Sherlock frowned acknowledging such a truth. How
many times had he sat at the desk, neatly stacked papers just waiting to be shuffled about, and it was always fun to change Lestrade's password and
watch him try and guess only to get it wrong, setting alarms off and locking him out of the system. A very perturbed IT kid would come in and sort it out,
giving the DI a new password telling him to only use one he can remember so this doesn't happen again.
Wait, neat stacks of papers-Sherlock was at Lestrade's desk now, he'd sat there feet up just three days ago stopping in personally hopping for a murder case or something. But something was wrong now, someone had already been here, searching for something they obviously hadn't found.
Pictures, photographs, Sherlock was looking for them, what could they be of. He went to sit in the DI's empty chair, he had to think like Lestrade, what kind of man was he. A good man, like John, truthful, hated to bend rules, his work was his life, that's why his wife was leaving she needed affection else where but with a gym teacher? Stop, getting out of focus, he was an honest man, Sherlock could hear his gritty laugh in his head.
"I know you are hungry for a case but no one has been murdered, we'll people have, but the murderers have been confessing. Must be my interrogation skills." Sherlock had thrown him an impatient and doubtful look, Lestrade of course just chuckled. "I'll call you. Now get out of my chair and god help me if you hacked my computer-last time you put a picture of a dammed police box and it took me weeks to get it out of my desk, why a blue police box? No don't answer that. It took three pimply faced condescending IT guys to get it out from in there."
"In, in in why would he say in-my desk!" Sherlock nearly clapped his hands, that was it! He had corrected the DI, once saying it was technically on the desk top not in-but Greg Lestrade wasn't actually a wiz with computers, that man refused to get a touch screen claiming that his old flip phone worked just fine. Sherlock switched the computer on, and of course didn't take a genius to figure out the password.
"Sherlock look at this." John was standing in front of the wall just to the right of the door. Sherlock had almost forgotten that John was searching the office as well.
"Not now John-" Sherlock paused his impatient command when he caught where John was pointing. Lestrade was a man of sentiment; he surrounded himself with pictures, even the one of his wife still remained on the desk. Sherlock always managed to kick it over accidentally of course, when he put his feet up. So it was strange a picture was missing from a spot on the wall, he could see that it was clearly gone a perfect square made by the dust imprints and the frame sitting on the wall so long, that piece of paint under it was less faded. Apparently the wall had been white and not gray at one time, interesting idea for an experiment on paint-focus focus.
"What picture was there?" John wondered out loud trying to remember, he closed his eyes, racking his brain.
"It was the one from his academy days, a class picture-the one with three men in cadet uniforms, and Lestrade was one of the three. Where is it?" Sherlock knew this could be part of the puzzle. Lestrade wouldn't discard something of sentimental value. John went to the wastebasket pulling it out. The frame and picture had been broken, and tossed into the garbage.
Sherlock couldn't think about that right now, all so trivial he needed to find what was on the desktop. Nothing out of the usual, nothing, dammit, something had to be there. Sherlock pinched his nose, the picture in the trash, waste basket, bin-Sherlock shook his head how obvious.
"John! You are indeed a conductor of light!" He didnt catch Johns irritated sign.
He clicked on the icon for recycle bin. Only an idiot would keep it full, didn't Lestrade know he was supposed to manually empty it. Sherlock scanned the most recent items. Emails, the newest one was from a detective Carlton Bentley, and Sherlock could see in his mind the first three letters CARlton Bently, all emails had an electronic signature and an email address and also what department it belonged to, very convenient.
"Lestrade, I understand I am just the new guy but I assure you I did look into the cases. There are no discrepancies. Besides who would just confess to a murder they didn't do. I assume that the matter is closed. Working with that nut job is starting to make you paranoid.-Srgt. Carlton Bentley Organized Crime Division."
Lestrade caught something, a discrepancy and whom ever this idiot Bentley was, he obviously didn't consider it worth his time. Who was he, why would Lestrade be questioning solved cases when the murderers had already confessed? It wasn't making sense, unless he saw a pattern. Sherlock scanned the other emails, another from a DI Jeff Rivers Organized Crime Division. Oh Lestrade you are indeed smarter than the whole of them! Sherlock picked up the clues like breadcrumbs.
"Greg, old friend how about some drinks later. Hope Rita wont mind, tell her I wont keep you out to late."-DI Jeff Rivers Organized Crime Division
"Sherlock maybe you should hurry up-" John was starting to get nervous; they'd been there 15 minutes at most. Sherlock ignored him scanning the emails nothing more who was this Jeff, obviously no one close, he still thought Lestrade was married, but close enough to comfortably call him Greg.
Sherlock searched for a reply email, where would Greg go, what cases was he looking into? He needed more data.
"Oh, Detective Dodson, there you are. " both Sherlock and John froze hearing Clarke's voice raise a bit louder in greeting.
"Clarke what the hell are you doing on this floor?" came the stern reply. John and Sherlock moved to the door, he took a chance glancing out just enough for his right eye to take in the scene then pulled himself in, Sherlock could see Clarke speaking with an older man wearing a grey coat.
"Sorry sir?"
"I mean aren't you supposed to be at the hospital with your partner, thought you'd have the rest of the night off? Tell me Clarke, weren't you two supposed to be stationed at the park? Dreadful business those two young PC's." John swore under his breath catching the tone of false sentiment.
"Yes, we we're in the middle of a traffic accident still, and the boss called said to clear that up and not to worry he'd have someone else fill the spot."
"Damn unlucky. What are you doing on this floor?"
" Unlucky?."
"Yes, messy. And then for it to be twice in one night. Of course you come away unscathed once more. I'd say you've got nine lives."
"Sir, Henry was hit pretty hard on the head. He was almost shot point blank-" John heard the mounting anger in the young PC his easy going tone dropping down. " He'd of shot me hadn't I managed to disarm him"
"Yes, well your military training came in handy. Hope you're headed home to rest. Or are you going to check on your flatmate?"
"Dispatch informed me that he'd be released after answering some questions. I'll probably go pick him up. Thank you for your concern."
"You still haven't answered my question why are you on this floor?" John and Sherlock listened hanging on the mans words, John hopped the sound of his heart racing couldn't be heard from where he stood.
"I was looking for you sir."
"Me?"
"Yes, well it was such a long night and I'd heard you were coming in to help search for DI Lestrade."
"Yes, he was an old friend of mine. Good man." His dismissive tone was anything but concerned.
"So I thought to invite you down to the break room. Some of the Sc's brought in some refreshments. At least grab a cup of coffee." Sherlock could hear the hesitation in the older mans voice. "Why don't I do just that. I just have to grab something from my office"
"Oh, but isn't your office that way sir." Sherlock had to grin again, how was this young man a PC, he had a brain well some what of a brain, he still hadn't pieced together what was going on.
"Yes,-I just am a little disoriented. Guess it's all this chaos. With Anderson and Donovan being questioned, shame two of our own being dirty. And Howard and Smith. " John couldn't help roll his eyes.
"We'll I'll meet you in the break room sir" Carke sounded confused he had questioned Sherlock could hear it in his tone but he wasn't going to waste more time asking.
"Sure thing PC, sure thing. And you be careful out there. Never know when your times up."
"Yes sir, indeed sir." He stood watching then signaled when the area was clear, the three started back to the stairs.
"Find anything?"
"More than you know. " Sherlock frowned. He took his phone out and sent a quick text.
"Whats that?" Clarke asked pointing at the broken frame in Johns hand, he'd forgotten he even had it. Clarke frowned "Funny, seeing that old bastard DI Rivers this young.
"What?" Sherlock took the picture, "Which one."
"That one" He pointed at the man, Sherlock looked then why would it be in the trash, if it held sentimental value at one time. What would change that?
"Whose this man?"
"Oh, that's Superintendent Rogers, he was at DI Lestrade's house. I heard him and one of the Chief Inspectors berating DI Dimmock. That's when he told me to call you sir."
"Interesting that the Superintendent would visit a crime scene."
"He did say Lestrade was a friend of his." Clarke offered.
"I need to find the last case the Lestrade was working on. I need to talk to Donovan."
"No way you'll get close to her, she's being questioned. You'd have to be an officer-" Sherlock and John turned to Clarke. The young officer sighed heavily "What do you want me to ask?"