"Augustus Lowndes?" Jackson asks.
Sherlock nods. They are all assembled at 221B Baker Street—Sherlock, Stiles, Molly, Jackson and even Derek who has refused to sit down and is currently backed into a corner with a prize-winning scowl on his face. And the infamous Derek Hale glare is fixed on everyone, especially Sherlock, who is also throwing the occasional glare back at Derek.
"You two want to interview Augustus Lowndes?" Jackson asks again, taking his time to look at both Sherlock and Stiles. Stiles had become the unofficial assistant of Sherlock Holmes in this case. No one knew Sherlock's opinion on this. Molly thinks he prefers to talk to Stiles than actively miss John.
Derek asks, "Who the hell is this Augustus Lowndes?"
"Yeah you are taking his name as if he is Voldemort," Stiles comments. Every head turns to look at him.
Jackson shrugs his shoulders and says, "Augustus Lowndes is a man of dubious origins. No one knows where he came from or who he really is. He is charismatic, generous and smart. But he is also ruthless, dangerous and a cold-blooded killer. Igor had bought Augustus under his wing when he was just sixteen—that was five years ago. Igor was having a hard time maintaining his territories and he employed Augustus to help him. The three Alphas that Gustav mentioned? Yeah half of their packs are dead. And word on the street is that Augustus was the one who finished them, hence forcing the three Alphas to pack up and leave."
"Woah. This is like Godfather—the werewolf edition," Stiles mutters and does the jazz hands. Again every head turns to look at him.
"Enough with the movie references Stiles," Derek says, "Stiles and I will go meet this guy."
Sherlock stands up, "Excuse me, I am the detective here. You don't get to interrogate suspects."
Derek crosses his arms and glares at Sherlock. Sherlock glares back. Stiles shakes his head, Beta or no Beta, Derek is too Alpha to function and human or werewolf, Sherlock is too much an Alpha male himself.
Molly rolls her eyes. She stands up and takes her place between the two men. She faces Derek and says, "He is right," she turns to face Sherlock, "And I shall go with you and Stiles."
Both men open their mouth to argue but Molly raises her hands and says in a firm voice, "No. I am not hearing anything. Derek, Sherlock is the detective here," Sherlock's chest puffs up just a wee bit, "And Sherlock you can't go alone, as a werewolf I can help. So shut up both of you."
Stiles and Jackson share a grin as the two Alpha men begrudgingly agree with Molly Hooper.
Finding Augustus Lowndes was not that hard, considering that he had pretty much taken over everything that Igor owned. Igor Jablonski owned two garages, a car dealership and a meat shop. Stiles could only guess why he owned a meat shop. A few phone calls to his homeless network and Sherlock Holmes knew where Augustus was.
He is at the second garage. The bigger one with the more expensive clients and suspicious paperwork. The three of them enter. A man comes up to them. He says, "Yes? May I help you with something?"
Sherlock says, "We are here to meet Augustus Lowndes."
The man frowns, "He isn-"
"Oh we know he is here. Go scurry off to him and inform him that Sherlock Holmes wants to meet him." As the man still refuses to move, Sherlock repeats again, "Go on."
The man shoots him a disdainful look but turns around and walks away. He reaches the opposite end where he knocks on a door. He goes in and after a few seconds he comes back with a young man following him. He is quite handsome and has brown hair. He flashes them a smile. He grins at Sherlock and says, "Oh my goodness, never thought I would get to see you, Sherlock Holmes here, ever. Big fan I am by the way. I religiously follow your and Dr. Watson's blog," he leans in and says in a whisper, "I never believed you were a fraud by the way. Though the whole fake-my-death thing was genius!" He shakes hands with Sherlock. Then for the first time he notices the other two people behind him. Sherlock notes the lingering gaze that Augustus gives Molly. He clears his throat and says, "We would like to talk to you about Igor."
The smile drops. A cold, hard look flashes in Augustus's eyes. The brown eyes that were like warm coffee a few seconds ago now looks like the hard earth during winters. Sherlock doesn't miss this sudden change. Augustus says in a low voice, "It'd be better if we go to my office." He turns around and the three of then follow him.
He pushes open the door and Stiles notes that half of Molly's flat can fit in here at least. Well Augustus is not flashy. A desk here, a few chairs there and a file cabinet pushed against a wall. Very minimalist. The only thing out of place is the gilded six feet long photo frame with a man in his late thirties with blonde hair, a strong jaw and piercing blue eyes silently passing judgement through the still picture.
Augustus notices everyone stare at the picture. He smirks, "That is Igor Jablonski. He always had tha look on his face. This is one of the few pictures he ever allowed anyone to take. Not a camera-friendly person he was." He gestures everyone to sit down as he takes his place behind the desk cluttered with files and papers.
They take their seats and Sherlock commences, "I think you can guess why we are here."
"You are here investigating Igor's death. Well it is an epic waste of your time, I already know who killed him."
"Yes, about that," Sherlock says, "You are wrong."
"I am not. Look Mr. Holmes, I have the utmost respect for you-"
"I am charmed thoroughly but you are wrong."
"No I am not," his jaw hardens and his pulse elevates. Molly hears it, his heartbeat increasing. She is about to warn Sherlock to not be so such a prick now when all hell breaks loose.
Augustus leaps from his seat and promptly lands on Sherlock. The chair tips over and both fall to the ground. Sherlock in reflex puts up his arm to protect his face and closes his eyes. Augustus's nails rip through his clothes. Suddenly the weight gets lifted off from Sherlock. He opens his eyes and gets surprised.
Molly after wrenching Augustus off Sherlock had pulled him up and slammed him into the wall with his feet dangling a good foot from the floor. The wall behind Augustus cracked due to the sheer force with which Molly had used. Stiles who had seen the entire scene unfolding—from Augustus magnificent fierce leap to the his landing on Sherlock with his claws out; from Sherlock trying to push Augustus off him to Molly plucking him off Sherlock like he weighed no more than a rag doll—stood there completely dumbfounded and still trying to process the situation.
Molly curls back her lips, her canines protruding and growls in Augustus's face. He retracts his claws and gives her a wolfish smile. He says with Molly's hands still clutched around his neck, "Why, you never said anything about your personal werewolf bodyguard slash overprotective girlfriend."
Molly turns back to normal. She lets go and Augustus finds solid ground. He runs his fingers through his hair and keep smiling at Molly, "You could get a place in this pack if you want, if your boyfriend allows you to."
Molly says in a dangerously low voice, hatred dripping from it, "He is not my boyfriend and nothing will ever entice me to join this pack." Her eyes glints amber as she shoots him a malicious glance, clearly reading 'you-touch-him-you-die' and Augustus gets the message loud and clear.
Stiles helps Sherlock to his feet. They both look at Molly—Stiles all awed and Sherlock trying to digest the change of his sweet, shy, timid pathologist to a pushing-people-up-walls-and-cracking-cement werewolf.
"Sorry back there Mr. Holmes," Augustus says, "I—you see Igor Jablonski was like a father figure to me. And now that I know you run around with werewolves, let me tell you, do not get between me and my mission."
"Mission?" Stiles asks, "To kill an innocent person?"
"Innocent? Wait what do you know?" he takes a step towards him.
Molly comes in between. She place her palm flat on his chest and says, "Jackson Whittemore did not kill anyone. You know why? Because I was there. I didn't see who killed Igor, but his killer is the one who bit me."
Augustus takes this information in. He gulps and looks confused. Only Sherlock notices the malevolent glint he is trying to hide beneath his apparent confusion. He frowns. Molly further adds, "And now we leave, if you want to talk to us as humans, contact Sherlock through his website."
She turns around and smiles apologetically at Sherlock. She has noticed his stoic silence no wonder trying to understand her sudden change. She is surprised too. She has never ever felt this kind of a guttural rage. She breaks eye contact with Sherlock. She glances at the web-like crack on the wall and shudders slightly. She looks at Stiles and says, "Let us go."
After they leave Augustus sits down and putting his feet up on the table, he smiles to himself. Molly Hooper is the one thing on his mind right now. She is one unique werewolf. Very strong and feisty for a recently turned werewolf. He scoffs, he would like to see her again.
As Stiles hails down a cab, Molly's nose crinkles up as she registers a new smell hovering in the air. A taxi halts. They get in. As Stiles is about to give Sherlock's address, Molly intervenes and says, "St Barts Hospital please."
Stiles asks, "Why?"
"I am bleeding and I can correctly assume Molly can smell it," Sherlock answers.
"Yes. You need first aid," Molly says.
They get to St Barts and Stiles and Sherlock silently follow Molly as she strides to her office. She wrenches open her drawer and brings out the first aid box. She gestures to Sherlock to take off his coat. As he takes it off, both Molly and Sherlock wince at the sleeve which has been ripped to shreds. Molly murmurs, "That was such a gorgeous coat." She winces further when she sees the four gashes on his arm still bleeding. She breathes out a sigh of relief when she sees the wounds are not that serious.
"I have a spare one," Sherlock says.
"I am not surprised that you have a spare one," Molly rolls her eyes. Stiles snickers.
She dabs some antiseptic on a wad of cotton and tries cleaning the wound. As Sherlock hisses in pain, she looks up at him with her brown eyes silently begging his forgiveness. He says, "I have had worse. Molly I-"
"Wait. I am pretty sure an antiseptic won't work!" Stiles cries.
Molly and Sherlock look at him. He explains, "Scratched by a wolf, it might be venomous. We might need wolfsbane to purify that." He points to Sherlock's wound. He takes out his phone. He calls Derek. "Hey Derek, umm rhetorical question. If a werewolf scratches a mere mortal, does said mortal need wolfsbane to heal? Even if the scratches are not that deep?"
Molly and Sherlock look on as Stiles nods his head thrice. He disconnects and says, "Well we need wolfsbane. Luckily Jackson has some. I will be right back."
"I will make a rudimentary bandage then. Be quick okay?" Molly pleads.
"Be right back!" Stiles jogs out of the office.
Molly starts dabbing his wound again. Sherlock mutters, "Why did he attack me?"
"Who knows? All I know is he is a bad tempered wolf and I absolutely loathe him," Molly replies.
Sherlock frowns because he cannot explain Augustus's behavior. He asks, "Did I antagonise him too much?"
She smiles, "No I don't think so. You were below normal on your antagonizing scale."
"So why would he?"
She looks up and grabs both his shoulders. She now registers he is wearing that purple shirt, that purple shirt she likes. Okay not so much as like as she wants to rip it off him. She takes a shaky breath and looks square in his eyes, "Sherlock, stop it. He did not do much harm, be happy for that please?"
He gives her a crooked smile, "Thank you by the way."
Molly tilts her head, "You are welcome." She drops her arms, averts her gaze and says, "Though I did not know what came over me."
"I must admit, it was…impressive. Even the cement cracked."
She starts blushing furiously at that. Sherlock Holmes complimenting her—scratch that, Sherlock Holmes complimenting anyone was so rare that a giggle manages to escape from her voice box.
"So impeccable strength, superior smell and what else?" Sherlock asks.
"Well I move a bit faster, my heart rate is not normal anymore, superior hearing and oh, I am always warm. Like sweater or no sweater are no longer a big deal," Molly replies in a rush with tremendous enthusiasm.
He grasps her left wrist and checks her pulse. He murmurs, "Yes, a bit beyond the normal." He then folds his both his hands around her tiny hand. He whispers, "Yes you are too warm."
Molly's eyes go wide with anxiety as her pulse get erratic and her heartbeat kicks up a notch. She tries to force her brain to think, but his touch has already melted her cognitive functions. Then she could hear another heartbeat. She looks up to find Sherlock staring all funny at her. Oh that heartbeat is him.
He tentatively traces the nerves on her hand, her pulse throbbing. He smirks, he knows why obviously. But what he does not realise is how fast his own heart is beating. She is so soft and warm. And not to forget her closeness is slightly unnerving. He gulps. His mind is fighting with his body. He tries to reason that this is a bad idea. But then Molly leans in.
She starts trembling a little. What she is about to do is plain insane, but she will freak about this later in her tub with a bottle of wine nearby. Right now the wolf in her is telling her to not waste this chance. After all she had always wanted to feel how those luscious lips would feel and taste. So she throws caution to the wind and leans in. She grabs his collars and pulls him closer. Then she firmly puts her lips on his.
His eyes go wide with shock. She is kissing him. All the alarms activate in his mind palace. Whatever, he shuts that door and finds his arms snaking around her and pulling her closer still. She realises what he just did and gasps. He takes this oppurtunity and swipes his tongue over her lower lip. This elicits another gasp from her.
She is honestly shocked. Sherlock is kissing her back. SHERLOCK HOLMES IS ACTUALLY KISSING HER BACK, her subconscious screams back at her. She winds her fingers in his gorgeous dark curls and nips at his full lower lip. A low purr emanates from his throat as she grazes her fingernails on his scalp. He silently scolds himself from ever telling her that her lips were too small as she kisses him wild.
Molly shows Sherlock exactly what she can do with her tongue when suddenly she hears a sound. She pulls away and sees the baffled look in his eyes at the sudden interruption. She moves back a little and says, "Stiles is back."
Sure enough, a few seconds later Stiles enters with a package in his hands. He grins, "Jackson sends his condolences." For the first time he notices the tension in the room. His grin drops and he says, "Uh everything okay?"
"Yes!" Sherlock and Molly say simultaneously. Stiles narrows his eyes at them but says nothing as he gives Molly the package.
She brings out the bunch of purple flowers from the brown paper bag. Stiles says, "Uh you need to crush it."
She says, "Okay. I think I have a mortar and pestle in the lab."
"Eh be careful. It is poison to you. So I, uh, have to apply it," Stiles says. She nods and leaves with the flower.
He turns to Sherlock and waves at him, "If you have no problem with me touching you."
Sherlock frowns, "What?"
"Never mind."
Sherlock's phone pings. He says, "That is an email. Check it. It is in my coat, my phone."
Stiles grabs his phone out of his coat all the while muttering, "A 'please' would not kill him."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing," Stiles open the little box flashing on the screen. He opens it and reads it, "I have a surprise for you. I hope you get it. Augustus Lowndes." He looks at Sherlock all aghast.
Sherlock says, "He sent something to Baker Street."
Molly comes back. She looks at the two of them. She had heard everything. She gives the mortar and pestle to Stiles. She says with a grim face, "We better hurry then."