The sunrise slowly illuminates the clouds with golden hues. Sunlight pours into the alley, slowly flooding the scene. The usually quiet and deserted alley is alive with voices. This scene isn't filled with the quiet shock that was so prominent in 221B Baker Street on the day after Sherlock's body was found.
Everyone at this scene is different. Nobody is silent. Nobody can contain their surprise. Nobody can stop from asking their questions. There is a completely different feeling at this investigation.
John doesn't like it. To him, everything feels sinister. He is suspicious about everything. Everything he thought he knew is being ripped out from under him; how can he not question everything? People that have been buried typically don't just appear in a random alley. People that are already dead aren't usually dug up and shot again.
None of this happens.
Ever.
None of it should have happened at all.
Lestrade is on the opposite side of the alley as John is, right where the body was lying. He is inspecting the scene for any further clues. The scene was already inspected, but this case is so strange that he wants to look again.
The body has already been removed. A white outline of the body remains at the scene, which is where Lestrade is standing right now. As he surveys the alley, Lestrade feels utterly disgusted. He cannot believe that anyone would dig up the body of a man and shoot him again.
Lost in his thoughts, he looks down at the concrete floor of the alley. It is stained with blood from the gunshot wound in the head of the victim.
Suddenly, Lestrade realizes something important. He had been so caught up with interrogations and the examination of the building that he had missed a key clue completely.
There was blood at the scene. Real blood.
In fact, there was a lot, and it was definitely from the gunshot wound on the victim, judging on the size and placements of the stains.
But there shouldn't be.
If the murderer had actually dug up Sherlock's body and shot it after his death, there shouldn't be any blood. It would be impossible. A dead body doesn't have a pumping heart or flowing blood, so if a dead body were shot, there wouldn't be that much blood at the scene.
So either the blood wasn't from the dead person or maybe…
"John!" he calls loudly.
John is at the other side of the alley talking to Mary, who had arrived a few minutes earlier. He glances up at Lestrade, who is urgently waving at him. Lestrade clearly wants John to come look at the scene again. John winces; he's not quite ready to head back to the bloody crime scene right now. He reluctantly nods.
"I'm sorry, Mary. The inspector is calling me,"
Mary nods. "Go ahead. It's probably important,"
John begins to walk over to Lestrade.
"John!" Lestrade calls again.
John sighs. 'He just won't shut up, will he?' thinks John to himself. Sometimes Lestrade is really annoying. He walks up beside Lestrade.
"What is it?" he impatiently asks. He tries to avoid looking at white outline on the ground.
"You're not going to believe this!" says Lestrade is irritated by his enthusiasm.
"Well, then? What is it?"
"I just figured out something important," Lestrade states proudly. "I realized that the blood on the ground couldn't be from Sherlock's body! He's been dead for a whole week already. His body wouldn't still bleed if it was shot!" answers Lestrade. He has an accomplished look on his face.
John looks at him questioningly. "What?" he asks confusedly.
"I said, the blood couldn't…"
"No, not that," interrupts John. "You just realized this right now?"
"Yes, I did. What do you mean?" Lestrade looks confused.
John shakes his head in disbelief. "You're a trained inspector for Scotland Yard in London, you have a whole team of 'trained' and experienced investigators, and you just realized this right now?"
Lestrade nods slowly.
"Seriously? I saw the blood and immediately assumed that! You mean to tell me you've just been wasting time for the last thirty minutes?"
Lestrade bites his lip and stares down at his feet, embarrassed.
"Oh. Well…" Lestrade doesn't finish his sentence.
John shakes his head. It doesn't matter how stupid the police have been. They are upset and shaken too. All that matters is figuring out what's going on.
"I'm sorry that came out harshly, Inspector. We've all had a rough day," John says. "I'd like to take a look at this alley. Is it fine if I do that?"
John doesn't wait for an answer. He walks to the front of the alley with his gaze downward. Now's the time to use the skills that Sherlock taught him.
At the place where the alley meets the road, John gets down on his hands and knees. He slowly looks around for any footprints.
"Lestrade!" John doesn't wait for any response. "Do we have a time of death of the victim?"
Lestrade nods. "Yes, the medic says that the time of death was about 11 pm last night. Why?"
John doesn't answer. He realizes something. Getting up quickly, he walks around to the front of the building. He once again gets down on his hands and knees.
"Yes!" he exclaims out loud.
There, in the dirt, is a faint single footprint.
"Lestrade, come here!" he calls, excited. Lestrade walks up beside him.
"I found a footprint. Look, right here!" He points to the footprint in the dirt.
Lestrade is skeptical. "Dozens of officers have gone into this alley. It's probably just one of theirs," As skeptical as he is, Lestrade hopes John is right about the footprint. Right now it's their only clue.
"No," John shakes his head. "It can't be one of the officers'. It rained a little bit last night at around 10 pm, remember? If the time of death were 11 pm, then the ground would probably still be muddy when he came. By the time I came here, that mud would have been dry. Wilson told me he was only here this morning, so it can't be his either!"
Lestrade's eyes widen. "Then this footprint is either the killer's or the victim's!"
"Do we still have the victim's shoes here?" John is hopeful that this might be a helpful clue.
Lestrade shakes his head.
"So we can't compare the print?" John is disappointed.
"John, the victim wasn't wearing any shoes at all when we found him," Lestrade says.
"This is a shoe print, not a footprint. That means…" John doesn't finish, as one of the investigators on Lestrade's team walks up to the two.
"Sir, we dug up Mr. Holmes' casket," he states nervously.
"Yes, and? What did you find?" Lestrade inquires impatiently.
"Sir, Mr. Holmes' body was still there. Nobody dug him up at all,"
Lestrade stares at the officer in shock. "What, you mean…" he doesn't finish.
"This is insane," mumbles John.
Lestrade can't contain his confusion.
"There are two Sherlocks!"
I hope you've enjoyed Encore so far! I would appreciate any comments, suggestions, or reviews. Thanks for reading!