Chapter Two
"What's this?" Donovan asked when she arrived at work and found her boss already in his office and hunched over his desk, studying something.
Lestrade's head jumped up. "Oh, hey Donovan." he greeted wearily as he leaned back and stretched, popping his spine a few times.
Donovan took the opportunity to round his desk and pick up the white card Lestrade had been looking at. "Game on." she read. "And let the best man win."
Lestrade grunted and rubbed his face tiredly. "Yup."
"What's this?"
"I'm not entirely sure." Lestrade shrugged. "I found it on my door."
"You think it has something to do with the case?" Donovan asked him concernedly.
"I don't know. It's a definite possibility."
"You'll have to admit, the timing is suspicious." Donovan grunted before slapping down a newspaper onto Lestrade's desk in afterthought. "Made front page, our case."
"What? Seriously, you'd think there was nothing better for journalists to write about." Lestrade groaned, picking up the paper and absently flipping through it as if at home.
"Did you run this through the lab?" Donovan asked, waving the card aloft.
"Yep, no DNA traces." Lestrade sighed. "And it was printed out on a computer."
"Handwriting analysis is useless, then?" Donovan sighed sympathetically. "You want me to put it up?" She gestured to the murder board.
"No." Lestrade shook his head, taking the card back from his sergeant and locking it away in his desk drawer. "Not until we're certain that it has something to do with the case."
Just then, a pale-faced PC knocked and poked her head into the office. "Um, there's just been another body called in." she squeaked.
Lestrade nodded. "Thanks."
The young lady gave a timid little half-bow and scurried off.
"Crime never sleeps." Donovan sighed.
"And here I was hoping to get a bite to eat before the serious work." Lestrade groaned in despair.
"Well I'm reconsidering the wisdom in eating." Donovan replied dryly.
Lestrade recalled the state the first body had been in and nodded in grim agreement. "Optimistic as always, Donovan."
"I live to please."
"Oh, God." Donovan covered her nose and mouth the moment they approached the autopsy table in the morgue.
"'Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.'" Dr. Fulton droned in his usual macabre humor.
"Good thing I didn't eat." Lestrade remarked, carefully blank-faced.
Donovan turned and rushed out of the room, face ashen.
"Ignoring that, what can you tell me?" Lestrade asked when the doors closed behind Donovan.
"Same as our first victim, our man's cause of death was a shot to the head, same caliber." Dr. Fulton pointed to the entry wound on the male corpse. "Again, same as our first victim, the corpse was lit on fire post-mortem and then dumped into the Thames."
"Time?"
"Probably about a day or two ago." Dr. Fulton estimated.
"Our killer burns his victims." Lestrade mused aloud. "So he must have somewhere to do it, right?"
"Seems like it."
"And nobody notices the smell?" Lestrade wondered skeptically. "In Central London?"
"Maybe people do smell it, they just don't know it." Dr. Fulton pointed out. "It's not like everybody in Central London knows what burning flesh smells like."
"Point. Do we have a name for this bloke?" Lestrade gestured vaguely to the autopsy table.
"We don't, but I lifted several fragments of burnt clothes from the body and the lab is processing them right now." Dr. Fulton informed him.
"Okay, thanks." Lestrade thanked him.
"And speaking of, I catalogued the maggots on Lucy Spring's body." Dr. Fulton continued.
Lestrade took a moment to remember the wriggling mass inside the corpse and shivered. "What about them?"
Dr. Fulton took off his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his lab coat before placing them back on his nose. "Turns out, there were species of fly both consistent and inconsistent with the location of the body. The more noteworthy species are native to more suburban areas." he told Lestrade.
"You mean the body was stashed somewhere in the suburbs before being moved into the city and tossed into the Thames?" Lestrade scribbled in his notes.
"Seems so." Dr. Fulton confirmed.
Note to self: never underestimate the maggots. They know where you hide the bodies. Lestrade thought to himself and forced himself to smile gratefully. "Thanks doctor."
"I also found this at the second crime scene, also worn around the wrist." Dr. Fulton handed Lestrade a baggie with a chain of sea shells inside.
"Shells this time." Lestrade grunted. "Never know what's coming next."
And he walked out.
Outside he joined Donovan, who still looked slightly ill. "Should've passed up on that breakfast." she moaned as she fell into step. "What's that?" she asked, staring pointedly at the bag in his hand.
Lestrade handed it to her. "Cockle shells. Put it with the rest of the evidence. I'll go talk to the people to discovered the body."
Donovan nodded and walked off.
Later that day, Lestrade pulled up at Mycroft Holmes's Kensington home and got out. He walked up to the front door and reached for the doorbell.
He was startled when the door opened before he could manage to press the button.
Mycroft stood there, eyes slightly widened in surprise. "Gregory!" he smiled warmly. "You should've told me you were coming."
Lestrade pecked his boyfriend on the cheek in greeting. "Well, sorry about that, Mycroft." he apologized sheepishly. "It was a sort of unplanned visit."
Mycroft raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Yeah, it might be nothing, but the killer in my current case might've dropped off a note at my flat last night. I mean, I'm not certain of it, but I don't want to take chances." Lestrade explained as Mycroft led the way into the sitting room. "I was hoping to stay over here a while until I sort things out."
"Of course." Mycroft replied immediately. "You shouldn't take things like that lightly."
Only then did Lestrade notice Mycroft's traveling bag by the door. "You're going someplace?" he asked curiously.
"You know my work." Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes and turning his palms upward helplessly. "I was just about to call you when you appeared at the door."
"Well, speak of the Devil." Lestrade joked. "How long are you going to be gone?"
"A few days." Mycroft shrugged. "At most a week, you never know in my line of work."
"Well, don't let me keep you." Lestrade smiled at him.
Mycroft smiled back and kissed him warmly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I don't trust you in my house alone for long periods of time." he teased.
"Hey!" Lestrade squawked in mock indignance. "In my defense, I only trashed your house once!"
"And the repairs are still undergoing." Mycroft returned with a smirk.
"That's it!" Lestrade pretended to seethe. "Kiss your Ming vase goodbye!"
Mycroft laughed and kissed him again. "You love that vase."
"It's pretty." Lestrade conceded.
"See you soon."
"See you when you get back."