Chapter 25: Interviews

A/N: Apologies for the awful length of time without an update. Essay/conference/rehearsals are a kick in the bum for productivity in writing...Also, gosh! Over 150 reviews! Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this, much less the time to actually pen (type?) your thoughts on many and various plot bunnies.

This is a simple chapter on John's way with people. Other chapters coming up include a couple of unrelated bits and pieces on John's status as a charmer, and a possible experiment with a slightly darker John; if there's enough interest, at some point there could be a much darker one...*horror movie music*. After that will come some be crack-y fluff.

No trigger or language warnings for this chapter, apart from the obvious fact that it's a murder case.

James flinched as Greg slammed his hand down upon the plywood table across from him.

"Where is she, Naylor? Where's Marie?!"

Glancing at his lawyer, James stubbornly shook his head.

"No comment."

The inspector shook his head, striding across the room to stand, straight and austere in front of the viewing window. "We know you did it, James. We can put you at the scene, and we know you had access to the means...all we don't know is why."

"Look, I didn't kill her! Your authority doesn't wash with me. You won't get any confessions out of me, today or any other day." He sat back in his seat, leaning back with a swagger that he didn't really feel inside.

"Interview suspended 11.55."

The policeman sighed, clicked a button on the tape recorder, and stood up.

He strode out into the viewing room and came back with a small and unassuming man. Blonde hair greying at the temples and a practical khaki jacket gave him the look of an amiable middle-aged uncle, or a well-liked science teacher. His dimply smile and kind face put James instantly at his ease, and he relaxed into his seat. His lawyer seemed less reassured, jumping visibly before smiling tightly and dipping his head in a fractional nod.

"Doctor Watson. How have you been since the Sochanik case?"

The doctor smiled. James could have sworn he'd seen a predatory gleam in his eye, but it was gone as soon as it had come, and he put it down to his fevered imagination.

Leaning forward, the new visitor held out his hand, introducing himself with a sturdy handshake.

James's first thought was that this Watson character was weirdly soft-spoken for such a supposedly fearsome man; the way his brief had reacted, you'd have thought the sky had fallen in. The doctor peered at him across the table, sizing him up before he spoke.

"What was she like, your Marie?

"Gentle. Funny, bubbly, sweet. Not the brightest hulb in the lightshow, but she was really good with kids. She was a brilliant nursery nurse. She liked her Lambrini, and her high heels-she was always going out dancing with her mates."

The man nodded thoughtfully, mentally jotting down this information. "Did you love her?"

James didn't have to force the wistful smile that played upon his face then, nor put on the dreamy tone in his voice or summon up the faraway look in his eyes.

"She was so beautiful, and when we met, it was love at first sight. I know it's a cliche, but it was like being hit between the eyes, it came on so suddenly."

"I know you loved her, but did you trust her? One of her friends described her as a 'total flirt', didn't she? Could you tell me, honestly, that you believed her when she said that was as far as it went?"

All of this was said very gently and with total calm, like the doctor was about to break bad news. James stiffened.

Realising that the game was up, he shook his head.

"No."

His brief was looking alarmed by this point, and the doctor flashed him a distinctly leonine smile, all teeth and menace.

He turned back to James. "What happened? Did you get to the point where you couldn't get past it any more? Where you couldn't handle not knowing for sure?"Taking James's silence as confirmation, he continued, "How did you do it?"

James sighed.

"I strangled her."

"Where is she now?"

"I buried her in Blakely Wood. In a proper grave, near the rhododendrons. They were her favourites..."

The doctor stood. As he turned to leave, James looked up.

"How did you know? That I was lying?"

John turned back to him as the constable opened the door to let him out.

"Lots of people forget how much death and suffering I've seen. When people grieve, whether it's for their sons who've died at war or people who've gone in hospital, they still talk about them in the present tense, to keep the memories at the forefront of their minds. You've already forgotten about her, so you talk about her in the past tense."

With that, he walked out, straight-backed, and disappeared from view, leaving James sitting with his hands resting in his lap. His brief resignedly packed up his papers and, with a brief, exasperated glance, left him to be escorted back to his cell.

He realised later that the words 'kill', 'murder' or 'confess' had never graced the doctor's lips.

A/N II: John is gentle and kind with most people, and I can see him feeling some sort of sympathy with James, including his understanding that he probably never meant to hurt Marie. However, I can also see him being apoplectic at the thought of a person doing that to someone they love and then concealing it. He's also smart enough to know that you can't frighten information out of someone who's confident and intelligent: you have to coax and inveigle it out.