Chapter 3
It took only an instant to lead Sherlock out of the room it seemed, and John had barely a chance to stop it. What the hell had just happened? Sherlock, a killer? That couldn´t be true.
Especially since the poor guy had been tortured as well and been killed in a particular gruesome way.
Cause even if, John could only imagine Sherlock killing in self defence. Hell, honestly everyone was capable of that, they just had to be pushed far enough.
But killing in this cruel, cold blooded way, torturing a man to death?
Never!
He knew his friend, his lover, wasn´t capable of that. Self proclaimed sociopath or not.
Mycroft seemed to think the same, as he was proclaiming loudly. „These accusations are ridiculous. Why would my brother kill one of my men? He didn´t even know Arthur."
John wanted to nod and exclaim so as well, but it seemed Mr. Norman wouldn´t have any of it. „The evidence says otherwise I'm afraid. I think you understand we must at least investigate the possibility? If your brother is indeed innocent we will find out." He took a piece of paper from another black clad man who came in again and proceeded to show it to Mr. Simpson and Mycroft. „As you can see it matches his DNA and..."
A shrill tone of something which sounded like a bumblebee penetrated the room, and Donovan, who sitting next to Lestrade was looking at Mr. Norman´s evidence as well, looked rather apologetic. John would have laughed, if the situation wasn´t so dire. Even if Sherlock hadn´t stolen the evidence he and Sally had quarrelled about, he certainly had gotten her mobile and changed her ringtone again.
„I´m sorry I have to take this call. It´s the Yard." she said after she had taken out her phone and got up and walked to end of the room before she picked up. „What the...?" she exclaimed rather loudly but then got quieter again and listened. „No,I think there was a rumor that it was a hate crime. The
sister was said to hate her brother."
Probably about a case, John decided and tuned her out and listened to Mr. Norman once more, as the evidence was more important anyway. Donovan could handle the Yard. She bloody well worked there, he told himself and tried to focus. The situation and his lack of sleep seemed to only increase his worry, no reason to get paranoid.
But as the talking went on, the situation didn´t seem to get better. The evidence seemed genuine, no matter how many times John turned it in his head.
Then there was the fact that Sherlock hadn´t been at home when the murder had happened. Last Thursday they had helped Lestrade´s team with a case until midnight and John thought that Sherlock had gone somewhere with Donovan after that. But apparently that was wrong, as Sally, who had ended the call about two minutes ago, had proclaimed that she hadn´t seen the consulting detective after 0:15, just about when they had closed the case.
Damn it. He could have sworn that he had been at Sally´s, John cursed inwardly. Hadn´t the detective said something like that?
Nevertheless there wasn´t a chance for an alibi,it seemed.
Still he was certain that his flat mate would be proven innocent.
#
Mr. Simpson had just announced that they were all to be questioned separately about the day of the murder and the day when they had found the body as another man clad in black came in again. He went over to Mr. Norman, spoke to him privately and gave him another envelope.
John felt uneasy as Mr. Norman turned to them again. „It seems that there has been another murder. It's being processed right now, but they have found a hair in the victims throat wound again. Estimated time of death is 2:45 last night. Can anyone vouch for Mr. Holmes at this time?"
John held his breath. He knew Sherlock had helped the Yarders with a case until 1:30 but according to Sally had run off again until he turned up in her flat at 4 am. She had messaged him at both times, first to ask where the damn git could be and then to ease John´s worries.
„So you think the freak is responsible for this one as well?"
Donovan.
The freak? What the hell was going on here? He knew she called him freak from time to time but there was never malice behind it. But this tone right now, it sounded like he had travelled back in time for a few years to a time where the Sergeant and Sherlock still hated each other.
Or had something happened between 4 am and now? These two had quarrelled heavily when he came in after all.
„Yes, we have to take it into account. So I take it no one can vouch for him?"
Slience. Then Donovan again. „He was with Lestrade, Anderson and myself at a case until 1:30 last night, but after that no idea. Dr. Watson wasn´t with him. Freak said he had a doctors conference, right John?"
John just nodded and looked around. Anderson and Lestrade seemed to be strangely silent, also watching Donovan, while Mycroft nodded as well.
„I have no idea either what my brother did last night, I´m afraid, but I can´t imagine him being a murderer. I want to see the evidence you have though."
#
Soon thereafter everyone was questioned individually about the murder nights. John was beyond tired and he could see it in Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan as well. He hadn´t seen Sherlock since he had been led from the room and he didn´t like that one bit. Given that he was with the MI6 he knew that if his friend was found guilty they could make sure that no one ever found him again. Sherlock had told him that much once, when they had spoken about Mycroft, and now he asked himself if Mycroft could make his brother vanish if he turned out to be a murderer.
Or maybe he would have to vanish him to not vanish himself? John shook his head. No. He was making himself mad. No one would be vanished. And Sherlock was no murderer.
He turned to the door again, where Donovan came in, just back from her questioning, still talking with Norman.
„You know, I had feared it for a while. He always seemed to enjoy the cases too much. Far too much." Donovan shook her head, probably not even realizing John was listening in. „ So I guess I´m not surprised. But I hadn´t thought he´d be that cruel. I should have said more sooner. I mean, I always tried to warn Lestrade and the others. And John even..." She sighed and now noticed that he was close and staring at her.
While Mr. Norman excused himself and went over to get Anderson, John walked over to her. „What the hell, Sally?" he whispered, but she shrugged.
„I warned you John. And hell, I tried. So hard. But in the end, he´s really just a psychopath." She turned around to get away, but John caught her wrist and tugged her closer again.
„What happened Sally. Tell me. There´s no way that.."
She looked uneasy for a second, than took a deep breath as if to calm herself down, yet her face showed definite anger. „ Well if you want to know it that bad. He´s responsible. He made sure I didn´t get that unborn child I was pregnant with."
Time stopped. Or at least it was like it seemed to John. He let go of Sally´s wrist, who took that as a cue to get away. He heard Anderson gasp as he heard Sally´s admission, just as he and Mr. Norman were just about to leave the room. He saw Lestrade, coffee cup half raised, mouth agape in shock, looking at Sally, but not daring to walk over to her.
And he noticed Mycroft, who looked impeccable as always, as if this had nothing to do with him. Not that he could have shown anything, he supposed, as his superiors like Simpson probably didn´t have any ideas about his relationship with Donovan. The two men of the MI6 didn´t show any emotions as well, as did Mr. Norman, whom John had grown to hate due to the circumstances.
Inwardly he wanted to scream. But all John did was take a deep, long breath.