Hi everyone!
Sorry about the delay. I had to have my pc fixed and the naughty thing cancelled this long and tedious chapter just as I was finishing it, so I had to write it all over again...Imagine the joy...
I am sure many of you understood perfectly what was happening, but for those of you who are like me and enjoy occasional explanations, here you go!
Sincere thanks to; the guests, No Longer a Username Virgin, LoveLifeForgetProblems, Devikaa, EliTCH, Miischal, Rumela Lahiri, Arcoiris, Reina434, Lovebirds413, SammyKatz, Animus et Anima, mrspencil, lavanyalabelle, Wholock2 and Rocking the Redhead for the reviews.
On to the story!
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When Sherlock walked into the waiting room, John didn't say anything. He knew where he'd been. James did, too, but his anger had subsided, at least on the surface, so he didn't say a word when the consulting detective sat down on one of the armchairs, closing his eyes.
The three men didn't move for a while, holding their positions and thoughts, in heavy silence. Eventually Sherlock looked at his watch. "It's time." He muttered and pulled out his phone to make a call.
"Mr, Holmes!" Bonlieu answered. "I imagine you are calling for the DNA results. Ours are ready, what about yours?" He asked, leaning back leisurely against the comfortable armchair in his office.
"I have them in my hand, Officer." Sherlock replied. "Doctor Hooper has kindly provided them."
"Excellent, now we can compare them to see if the same woman..."
"I don't believe that will be necessary, Bonlieu." Sherlock interrupted quietly.
"Why not?" Bonlieu asked, after a moment of hesitation, his back straightening.
"Because the results are the same, as you very well know."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Bonlieu replied, his eyes fixing on the silhouettes gathering outside his door. His hand instinctively went to his holster.
"Considering your current location," Sherlock mused "I am sure you are aware that resistance is foolish. You are surrounded by the men you betrayed, and I am sure they would love you to give them a reason to shoot."
Bonlieu never locked the door. He never had to: they had always trusted him...It opened quietly.
"Cooperation is the best option in this case. Don't you agree, Bonlieu?"
The Frenchman released his grip on the gun and stood as a small wave of armed officers walked in, murder written on their stony faces as they silently surrounded him.
"Thank you for your assistance, Bonlieu. Au revoir."
The phone was left in the empty armchair.
"So Bonlieu was in on it?" Rigamonti's scowl was tinted a crimson hue. "I've worked with that man in the past!"
"Well, it was fairly obvious." Sherlock shrugged.
"No, Sherlock. No it wasn't." John shook his head ruefully. "I thought he was on our side!"
"I think an explanation might be appreciated." James sighed, noticing the perplexed expressions of his scorta. The ambassador's fists clenched when he saw Sherlock's stolen glance at the corridor leading to her room...But James blinked and forced his body to appear relaxed, keeping his inner fire on a leash.
Sherlock stood up and began to pace as he spoke.
"When the two victims were killed in England, I thought the murderer was a woman, tall and very strong. After discovering the French ambassador's arrangements prior to his murder, it also became apparent the killer was to be considered attractive.
When we met the secretary and the wife in the café, I made sure nobody had been listening to our conversation, during which the widow revealed the secret coded messages hidden in her husband's agenda. The killer could not have known about it before, because otherwise it would have been taken on the night of the murder.
Minutes after the widow told us about the coded messages, Doctor Paten was killed and the evidence stolen. This meant there had to be an accomplice, as the assassin didn't have enough time to go from the café tothe hospital. The idea was confirmed by the problems with the lighting at the hospital, the works having strangely coincided with our arrival in Paris.
So, who was helping the killer?
The wife was obviously innocent: she was the only one to know of the agenda, so she could have kept the information to herself. The secretary was also irrelevant, she was sitting in front of me and made no attempt to communicate, verbally or otherwise, with anyone. However, when we met Bonlieu at the airport I noticed he was using his phone and had a compulsive habit of holding it in his hand, sometimes gripping it in his pocket. A swift text message would have gone unnoticed, especially when an unexpected encounter caused a temporary distraction..." For just a moment Sherlock halted, his unseeing eyes seemed to fix on some distant spectre haunting him, but he then shook his head ever so slightly and resumed his account
"Bonlieu was unaware of ,y suspicion, so I decided to use him to my advantage. I gave him information and pretended ignorance to help guide the killer where I wanted, allowing him to believe he had the upper hand. Secrecy was also necessary to gather enough evidence to guarantee a conviction for Bonlieu.
Doctor Paten managed to provide a tissue sample, but he also left a very important message: the symbol of Mars. I feigned ignorance in front of Bonlieu, but the doctor's message was clear...Our killer was a tall man who could disguise himself as a beautiful woman. I am confident the real DNA results will confirm this.
Since the murders occurred during fashion week, it was probable that he would pass himself off as a model, especially as they are often allowed into parties and events without are decorative, looked at and admired, but they are also rarely memorable. Their individuality is frequently lost in the beholder's mental image of beauty, so that individual flaws and imperfections are forgotten and overlooked. Our assassin was therefore hiding in plain sight, as just another pretty face.
I knew he was being aided in Italy, too. The attempt to diminish security implied support from very influential people, and the chance that these murders had been commissioned was becoming more likely.
It seemed plausible I'd find an accomplice among the diplomats or the scorta, and I was not disappointed: I had noticed Stefano's suit was old, as was his watch. His mobile phone was also rather obsolete, yet he had just recently cut his hair, had a manicure for the first time -you can tell by the cuticles- and he was wearing a brand-new, very expensive shirt. Stefano had recently come in to money and was trying to hide it. A young Italian man is more likely to buy a new phone or suit than to invest in a manicure or shirt, which means Stefano had recently come in to money but was supposed to hide it. He avoided making obvious changes that his colleagues would notice, but he couldn't resist the temptation to allow himself a few luxuries his newfound wealth allowed.
The knowledge that the killer was a man gave me the perfect means to trap Bonlieu and confirm my suspicions about Stefano. First, I planted a fake DNA sample using Molly's hair, and had her conceal the real test. I was confident the killer, and anyone who knew him, would not consider the hair a threat..."
"Why not?" One of the officers asked, entranced.
"Well, because I informed everyone that the hair was dyed black, with brown roots. No wig has roots." Sherlock sighed, stating the obvious. He continued.
"I told Rigamonti that the killer might be a woman with black hair, and he passed that information to the officers. I saw he became suspicious of Ginevra, and so did the other men who instinctively acted accordingly, keeping a keen eye on her. Only Stefano didn't move, nor did he spare Ginevra more than a glance. He knew she was innocent, because he knew what the assassin really looked like. I therefore made sure Stefano would not be in the position to help the killer, by keeping him away from the ambassador and making him watch over the lab. There was no doubt he would do no damage, because he thought the test would lead away from the killer."
"They would have allowed an innocent woman to be accused, and possibly convicted." John muttered. "Stefano would wait for the results to be ready before passing them to Bonlieu, who would use them instead of the real evidence found in France!"
Sherlock nodded. "The fact that Bonlieu was caught with the fake results is enough proof to guarantee his conviction. It will not be difficult for the French police to see if those results have been in the hands of other people in the hospital. I had set a perfect trap before leaving for the runway..."
"You were looking for the killer backstage, I know that much... But who was it?" John then asked. "One of the models?"
Sherlock shook his head. "I thought it would be, at first. I decided to step in the changing rooms so I would see any signs of Paten's on the body of the men there, but I had overlooked something. All the designers were wearing ties, items that were also their designs. Only Michael Carthy wasn't wearing a tie, but an old silk foulard that had nothing to do with the collection. Carthy used to be a model, and still retains a slender, androgynous physique, which he used to his advantage. He was taking advantage of this international project and fashion weeks to travel undisturbed to his targets, disguised as a female model. He wasn't wearing a tie because his skin was too tender where Doctor Paten had scratched it."
"But why did he do it? What was the motive? And where is he now?" John asked.
"I suspect Carthy was working as a hitman, working on commission to kill ambassadorsm in order to depose the current Prime minister and allow their successor to gain power with little opposition. I believe the first two ambassadors in England were mere demonstrations, 'test drives', if you will.
Now that the secret is out, Carthy will no longer have any support for this endeavour; there is no point in trying to kill Ambassador Bailiff. Our assassin has most likely fled, and it will be a hard game to catch him.
As for his powerful clients, I am confident Stefano and Bonlieu will help the inquiry to find them. Mycroft will have a field day!"
"Investigations are already underway, Mr. Holmes." Rigamonti nodded. "Stefano will cooperate, if he knows what's good for him. The rat's being taken to the prison hospital as we speak."
"Why did you leave Molly alone with Stefano?" James growled softly.
Sherlock's back stiffened. "I never left her alone. Ascanio had been in the building in front of the lab, the whole time."
"Even after a sleepless night, I'm still the best shot in the force." Rigamonti stated simply.
He was not boasting.
Sherlock continued. "From the window there was a clear view of the whole room. We knew orders would come, dismissing the officers charged with protecting Molly; they were instructed to leave without arguing, and join Ascanio."
"Actually, we were not there." Rigamonti corrected the consulting detective. "I was at home, sleeping."
"So were we." Pitched in the other two men.
James nodded. Of course, they had disobeyed direct orders...Every agent has a set of bullets which have a code, specifically identifying their owner. The ambassador had no doubt that the bullet in Stefano's hand was un-marked, otherwise an inquiry would be unescapable. He smiled, despite himself.
"They were to act only as a last resort. Stefano would have borrowed the results, sent a copy to Bonlieu and returned them to Molly without incident, had it not been for you." Sherlock added icily, looking at James.
"What did I..." The ambassador began to ask, then he froze as the realization hit him: he had spoken about Molly and his concern for her, when others were present.
"I heard you were worried." Ginevra stepped in the room. Her eyes were red and puffy. "I'm so sorry, Your Excellency. I didn't know..." Her voice broke.
"Ginevra sent Stefano a text." Sherlock said matter-of-factly, pulling out the Italian officer's phone and showing it to the ambassador.
L'ambasciatore è preoccupato per la Molly, dice che stamattina era spaventata, poveretta! Son sicura che se ci fossi tu a proteggerla sarebbe più serena... Ma poi sarei gelosa ;)
He mentally translated it with ease and read it aloud for the others to hear.
"The ambassador is worried about Molly, he says she was scared today, poor thing! I'm sure she would feel better if you were protecting her...But then I'd be jealous."
Sherlock nodded. "Stefano had started a relationship with Ginevra, using her to gather information on the ambassador and his movements."
Ginevra hugged herself. "Stronzo." She murmured bitterly.
"That text warned Stefano, who made it necessary for Ascanio to intervene. By leaving the show to come to the hospital, on the other hand, you alerted Carthy, who will now be very hard to find."
"We have already alerted the airports and stations, we'll do our best to catch him, Mr. Holmes." Rigamonti said.
"Thank you, Ascanio...For everything." The two men's eyes met in silent respect. "I believe you should go home. It's your son's birthday, tomorrow, isn't it? You have plans."
Ascanio Rigamonti's habitual scowl melted away, his face breaking into a wide earnest grin that transformed his usually black demeanour into an open, youthful, almost boyish expression. "He'll be five years old, my Jacopo." He announced proudly. "I need to make some calls, but I can do the paperwork in Rome. It has been an honour, Mr. Holmes." The Italian took the consulting detective's hand and shook it solemnly. He and the two men left soon after, looking forward to the comfort of their own beds and the embrace of their loved ones. John's eyes followed them enviously, his mind also turning to the hearth.
The ambassador shook his head.
"How did I not see any of this this?" He wondered, bemused. "I usually would have noticed..."
"You were distracted." The consulting detective stated bluntly, turning away."Both you and your secretary allowed emotional desires to dull your acumen. Stefano and Carthy used your own feelings as a tool, making you the victims of your own sentimentality."
Sherlock walked to the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke with icy firmness. "That's what happens when emotions govern your mind. You let the idea of love suffocate your logic, sacrificing your intellect and better judgement on the pyre of foolish hopes...Such foolish hopes..." Sherlock paused, his shoulders falling as he closed his eyes.
"It's nothing more than human error." He whispered.
When Sherlock opened his eyes again, the sun had moved.
He was alone.
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EXTRA NOTES
A guest has made some interesting comments or asked questions in the reviews, but as I cannot PM the answers I will write the replies here, HOPING the reviewer will have a chance to see them as it appears the reader thought chapter 24 was the last...
Please feel free to skip if you are not interested!
chapter 12: "I have never heard that a PM of a country would have to resign if a foreign Ambassador is killed on his or her soil."
I try to do some research before writing stories, and this is apparently what happens: if an Ambassador is killed, there is a NATO meeting and the PM must step down, even temporarily, and the vice minister will take his place ad interim. Should the PM refuse, which is unlikely, it would cause a major diplomatic crisis. As for it being easy for potential anarchists, one needs only to look at embassies to see the level of security in place there. Even just in the consulate in Milan, where some of this story takes place, there are at least 2 army soldiers at all times out of the front door with machine guns and at least 1 police car with armed officers. There are a series of security measures in place inside, too. The embassy in Rome has various passages one has to pass to have access to the Ambassador.
Chapter 14: "I think John was a little heartless in this chapter. He certainly would know why Sherlock lost weight."
John is acting like that because in my head he has TRIED to have Sherlock talk to Molly or at least admit to himself what is going on, but he's in denial. John is pleased that someone is showing his stubborn friend just how much of an impact the situation is having on him. Hence the slightly mean attitude. it is basically tough love.
"And Italian politicians don't stay around that long."
Most of the more prominent politicians in Italy have been the same for the past twenty, if not thirty, years. Not just Berlusconi, but also Bersani, Casini, Fini, Bossi etc.
Renzi is a relatively new name but he and his new goverment are basically puppet figures for old faces if one does some research. The only real exception I can consider 'young' is the 5 star movement.
Chapter 15:
"I just realised you never give Sherlock's perspective."
Actually, I do on occasion. In chapters 2 and 4 it is more obvious, but there are moments throughout the fic in which I look through his eyes, I just like to do so discreetly, such as in the choice of adjectives. For example, in the last chapter I wrote'Those delicate, gentle fingers', becasue that is how he sees them. I simply don't have Sherlock do a lot of 'emotional musing'. That's more for Molly. I do generally prefer to show how he behaves and let others decide how to interpret his actions.
Chapter 20: "Funny how you and the Writers did the same."
I started writing before season three, and three times the Writers and I had the same Idea! SPOILER FOR SEASON 3: Tom and the mayfly man are especially notable. Originally I had planned the killer to be a photographer, but I had to make some changes after the sign of three. I am not sure wether to see it as similar mind patterns, a tapping into the collective unconscious or a simple lack of creativity, but it is amusing (if occasionally frustrating!).
Chapter 24: THE FIC ISN'T FINISHED YET!
I haven't decided if I will write a sequel, I need to complete this first. I don't know if you are following so you might miss the upcoming updates, but hopefully you'll find them.
Thanks for the lovely reviews and comments.
Feral