Back at the police station, John sipped at a coffee from the dispensing machine by Rebecca's office. Sherlock, Lestrade and Rebecca were busy talking; phoning people, filling out forms, ordering arrests and the likes of, and John had felt distinctly out of place and out of the action watching them throw their metaphorical weight around. Even Sherlock, who was supposedly not connected to the police in any way, elicited a surprising amount of respect from the sergeants.
John sat back in the cold, hard plastic chair in the corridor and took another sip of his coffee. He pulled a face at the bitterness of it and forced himself to swallow it. Leaning his head back against the blank wall, his thoughts wandered to Sherlock, last night, that morning, Lestrade finding out… Faint pink spots appeared on his cheeks and he took another swig of coffee, immediately regretting it. As John closed his eyes, Sherlock's face swam into view behind his eyelids. His pale skin and sharp eyes, lips pursed into a tight line, but breaking into a gentle smile as he turned towards John, his features softening… John remembered how it had felt to be curled around Sherlock in bed, to feel rest his head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. The memory of waking up at some unearthly hour to find Sherlock completely sprawled out across him curved John's lips up into a smile.
He heard footsteps approach him and opened his eyes just as Sherlock sat down in the chair next to him, taking his hand in his.
"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern on the back of John's hand.
"Fine. How's it going?"
A sigh. "Tedious. Hence why I'm out here." He offered John a lopsided smile. "Rebecca has authorised the arrest of Jackie and Alexander Chappell, now we just have to wait for them to be brought in."
"Can't we go along for the arrests?"
Sherlock shook his head. "I already tried that one. According to the Chief Superintendent, it's not really our place."
John raised his eyebrows. "You spoke to the Chief Superintendent?"
"Yes," replied Sherlock slowly. "That's what I just said."
"You didn't offend him or anything did you?"
Sherlock didn't reply.
"Sherlock…" There was a warning note in John's voice.
"I might have, aggravated, him a little bit."
John tried to stay angry, but he just couldn't maintain it. He burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, and soon both he and Sherlock were clutching at their stomachs, chests aching from laughing so hard.
"You're hopeless!" John exclaimed once they had both caught their breath back.
Sherlock chuckled breathily in response, looking up as Lestrade and Rebecca approached them both. They must have looked bizarre: two men, bodies angled towards each other, cheeks flushed from laughing and hands loosely linked. Rebecca's eyes widened in understanding but she said nothing. Lestrade gave them a smug smile.
"What's so funny?" Rebecca asked while Lestrade sat down on Sherlock's either side.
"Oh, just Sherlock being an idiot," replied John idly, making no attempt to let go of Sherlock's hand.
"Right." She stood a little taller and straightened her shirt. "Alexander Chappell has been arrested and is being brought in as we speak. Jackie is going to take a little while longer as she lives in Exeter, but we're tracking her mobile so I'm confident we'll pick her up soon."
"I want to interview them," said Sherlock.
Rebecca chewed anxiously on her lower lip. "Sherlock, I appreciate your work on this but I don't really think-"
Lestrade cut her off. "You'll never get a proper confession out of them if you don't let Sherlock at least try. You brought us down here to help, so let us."
She considered for a moment, eyes slightly squinted in thought and frown lines apparent on her forehead. Eventually she nodded her agreement. "Okay."
It took another hour before Sherlock and John were allowed to interview Jackie and Alexander Chappell, and they had spent the time sipping at vile coffee and trying to sit comfortably in the god-awful plastic chairs in the hallway. The Chief Superintendent – who had introduced himself to John as Robert Marshall – had insisted that both he and Rebecca were also present, despite Sherlock's protests that their presence would be counter-productive.
Robert led the way downstairs to the interrogation rooms, plainly ignoring the sounds of Sherlock grumbling about lack of trust and 'bloody police' as he followed him. Robert pushed open the door to the room and Sherlock gave it a cursory sweep, noting the harsh white walls, ceiling and floor, and the table placed in the centre of the room with six chairs around it, three of which were occupied by Jackie and Alexander Chappell and their lawyer.
Sherlock, Rebecca and Robert took the remaining three chairs, and John stood behind Sherlock, arms folded across his chest. Behind them, the door closed and another police officer stood guard by it.
Rebecca cleared her throat and began to talk. "Mr and Ms Chappell, you are in police custody because we believe that you are guilty of money laundering through the Harbour Light Restaurant, with the assistance of your cousin, Mr Hills, who runs a yachting club in Italy. We also have reason to believe that you are connected to the death of Mr Amato Dicello, an Italian police officer who was undercover at Dartmouth Naval College."
The Chappell's lawyer leant forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. "And what proof do you have for that?" He was a short man, shorter than John, with a sparse amount of greying hair on his head. His eyes were dark, deep-set, and lined with wrinkles and his expression was one of extreme distaste.
"We have plenty of proof," said Sherlock darkly, prompting the lawyer to turn his attention to the enigmatic man sitting diagonally across from him.
"Who exactly are you? You're not police."
"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective," Sherlock replied. Indicating John, he said, "And this is my colleague, Doctor John Watson."
"Consulting detective," the lawyer sneered. "What does that entail?"
"Exactly what it says on the tin. I am a detective with whom the police consult."
John hastily stifled a laugh. Robert shot him a disparaging look.
The lawyer spoke again. "My clients have reason to believe that you visited their restaurant last night. Can you confirm this?"
"Yes, Detective Inspector Brown came to me requesting an undercover investigation at the Harbour Light Restaurant involving herself, Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson and Detective Inspector Lestrade. I granted her permission to carry out this investigation," said Robert.
"I'm afraid your money laundering days are over," Sherlock said quietly, addressing Jackie and Alexander directly.
Robert flashed a puzzled look at John, but the other man merely shook his head in response and mouthed, "Trust him."
Jackie spluttered at Sherlock's words and John smiled, knowing that she had been caught out.
"As I said before," said the lawyer, looking distinctly less confident now. "You have no proof."
"Don't we?" Rebecca slid a file of printed out enlarged versions of the photos Sherlock had taken across the table to them.
Jackie, Alexander and their lawyer took it in turns to look through the photographs before the lawyer said, "This proves nothing."
"Yes it does." Sherlock came to life suddenly, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "We have access to your income and what you're declaring doesn't match up at all. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out." His lips twitched into a small smile. "We found the details of Mr Hills by the phone in the kitchen of your restaurant, so we did a bit of research and it turns out that he's a very wealthy man, far too wealthy for it to be just from his business. Rich man in Italy who has access to boats? I'd say he helps illegal immigrants to enter into mainland Europe."
Jackie and Alexander stared at him.
"How did you…?" Rebecca began, but Sherlock waved a dismissive hand.
"It was the obvious conclusion." He leant further towards Jackie and Alexander. "But I'm right, aren't I?"
Meaningful glances were shared between the three people on the opposite side of the table, and eventually Alexander nodded. "Yes. We never meant to get caught up in all of it, but we were desperate, and Graham offered to help us. We had no choice."
"Everything is a choice," Sherlock snarled. "So you found out that Dicello was investigating you and Hills and you couldn't risk getting caught?"
Jackie and Alexander both nodded.
"And you thought that killing him would be the best option?" asked John disbelievingly.
"It was an accident," murmured Jackie, her eyes focused on her clasped hands. "He came into the restaurant and started poking around; asking us questions. Alexander got angry and…and…"
"And strangled him," Rebecca finished. She turned to look at Robert. "There's our admission."
He nodded in response and motioned for John and Sherlock to leave. They exited the room and were met by Lestrade in the corridor.
"I watched the whole thing on the recording. Good job, Sherlock. You too, John." Lestrade shook both their hands. "We'll wait here for them to finish up, tie up any loose ends and then head back to the B&B. I'll book a train back to London for tomorrow morning."