The clicking wheels of a carriage on the pavement stones in front of the building make John's vigilance return. Probably Lestrade.
He rises to his feet shakily and emerges from the alley. He doesn't really feel like explaining anything to anyone, or even talking right now, but Lestrade definitely needs to see this.
"Dr. Watson, what's goin' on? What's wrong?" Wilson questions confusedly. "I thought you'd seen all this stuff before! Why are you so upset?"
Wilson seems to be angered by the lack of answers that he is receiving, but John bites his lip and walks on, ignoring Wilson completely. Right now, he can't really talk to anyone after what he has just seen. The emotional turmoil that he is feeling is just too much. He can't imagine explaining this to anyone; they would think that he was insane. Not only that, but he doesn't have any logical explanation himself.
Honestly, he's just as confused as Wilson is. Actually, he is probably much, much more confused. One thing is certain, however: he does definitely know that something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
Finding the body of Sherlock Holmes with a bullet wound in the head? And in a dark and deserted alley thirty minutes travel from Baker Street? Those two things make absolutely no sense in themselves. But now, finding his body in a dark and deserted alley five days after his burial? That… that's essentially impossible!
Having to deal with his friend's death was bad enough on its own. But now, this happening… this is just absurd. Not only is it absurd, it's merciless.
John hasn't yet recovered from the shock of having one of his closest friends commit suicide. And now this? Now he has to be constantly reminded of it.
But John tries to ignore his own conflicted thoughts and self-pity. He wants to focus on the problem at hand.
The taxi door swings open rapidly and Lestrade quickly emerges. He hurries to John, looking both concerned and suspicious.
"I came as quickly as I could once I finished up with another call. What's going on? You look extremely pale," he inquires.
John shakes his head. "I… there's…" He is unable to finish his sentence. He doesn't attempt to explain again; really, it's doubtful that he will be able to explain any of this without having answers. Instead, he shakes his head painfully and motions for Lestrade to follow him.
Calling a few other policemen to accompany him, Lestrade hesitantly complies and walks up beside John.
"Really, John. What is going on here? Really, are you okay?" Lestrade can't restrain his curiosity.
John shakes his head. "No," is all he says. He's sort of answering both of Lestrade's questions at the same time. He has no idea what is going on, and he is certainly not okay. Not even close.
Lestrade is desperate for answers, but he doesn't continue talking. It's obvious that John would prefer to show him the thing, whatever it is.
The group journeys into the alley, where Wilson is still standing. He looks as puzzled as before, and now he is getting extremely impatient. He opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but stops. Wilson doesn't have any idea what is going on, but this is clearly not the right time to talk. He's also not happy that the police have come, and he wants to avoid drawing attention to himself. He trails behind the group, not eager to see the body again, but at the same time, far too curious to stay away.
Lestrade pauses and he motions for the rest of the policemen to do the same.
"John," he says. "Where are we going? You haven't told me anything apart from that there's an urgent problem here. So, come on. What's the problem?"
Now John stops walking.
"It's… you're not going to believe me if I tell you."
Lestrade chuckles. "Really? You know, I actually believe a lot more than you might think. Working in London's police can make you believe things that sound impossible. Well, really working anywhere as an inspector," he states.
John shakes his head. "Not this time," he says. "This time is different. I'm sure you've never seen this…"
Lestrade shakes his head and continues walking.
"There…" John says as he points a shaking finger at the figure lying on the ground, partially concealed by the shadows.
Lestrade looks at John skeptically. "A corpse? That's it? You must realize I see those pretty often. You're not going to shock me with something like that. Is that all? You know…"
Lestrade stops his speech suddenly. He is too utterly shocked to continue. The corpse looks like…
No. It can't possibly be him. There's no way. He's been dead for five days…but, as Lestrade kneels down beside it, he becomes more certain of the very thing he is denying.
The body is Sherlock Holmes'.
"Is this some kind of trick?" he asks, glaring at John confusedly through narrowed eyes. He is met with silence. Lestrade is livid.
"Is this someone's idea of a practical joke? What on earth is going on here?" John doesn't answer.
"Watson! Are you even hearing me? Answer me! What is this? What on earth is going on here?"
John shakes his head slowly. As Lestrade's gaze meets John's, Lestrade suddenly realizes something. John has absolutely no idea what is going on either. A choking silence fills the alley. Everyone feels overwhelmed by the number of unanswered questions present in their minds. Nobody moves at all.
Finally feeling more comfortable, although still puzzled, Wilson walks up to the group, which, by this time, has formed a silent semi-circle around the corpse. Wilson can't contain himself anymore, and he unleashes an angry torrent of questions.
"What is going on? Do you know who it is? Why does everyone seem so shocked? Why is everybody ignoring me?"
Lestrade shakes his head briefly. Another moment of silence passes.
"Well? Isn't anyone going to answer?" questions Wilson impatiently.
John steps forward. He breathes in deeply before beginning.
"I'm sorry. It's just… we know… knew… this man. And…" He has a hard time getting the words out.
"And he was buried five days ago."
I hope you've like Encore so far! Suggestions and comments to improve the story are always welcome. Thanks so much for reading!