The Adventure of the Civil Partnership Chapter 15 Moments Part 2

[rairakku1234]

Sherlock and John are hunting a kidnapper who has been taking newlywed couples across the Greater London Area and Sherlock has the perfect way to flush him out. Warning: Pre-Slash/Slash of Sherlock/John Work in Progress - Very Slow Updates

Disclaimers: I certainly do not own Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s amazing creation of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Hamish Watson. I also do not own Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and the BBC’s adaptations of those works.

Spoiler Warnings: Series 1 and 2 of Sherlock

Ratings: M Warning Pre-Slash/Slash.

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of strong violence and murder of an original character

Beta: Ivory Winter - All mistakes are mine.

Return to Chapter 15 Part 1



xxxxXXXXxxxx

Anderson turned up shortly after nightfall with a fifth body, reporting that he had halted the digging for the night and that a few PC’s had been left guarding the site, both to control the paparazzi that had already shown up and keep an eye out in case Reid reappeared, not that anyone really expected that to happen. Anderson was crowing when he arrived; the ID found on this body didn’t match up with anyone on Sherlock’s list of the missing. In fact, according to the man’s ID he was from Hitchin. The forensic specialist was attempting to use this information to make Sherlock look inept. Unfortunately for Anderson, Sherlock looked supremely unconcerned at his efforts, and merely raised an eyebrow at him.

“Although I am thrilled to discover that you are finally starting to acknowledge my genius and general knowledge of interesting criminal events within London, I fear in this case I must disappoint you. A two year old missing person’s case from the frighteningly dull regions of Hitchin is slightly outside my day to day purview.”

“Hitchin?” Lestrade asked.

“Yeah,” Anderson answered. “The ID on this one identifies the body as a Henry Conner from Hitchin. It’s about 40 miles north. I gave Sally the information on the way in, she’s contacting the local constabulary to see if they can find missing person’s report for him.”

“And his spouse,” Sherlock tacked on sharply, getting an indignant look from Anderson.

“And his spouse,” Anderson confirmed. “If the pattern holds, his spouse should be buried under a yew bush at the far end of the side garden.”

“Obviously. What’s more interesting is that this confirms that Reid must not only have another site where he is holding the more recent couples, there must be secondary burial ground,” Sherlock lectured, his magnifying glass out, examining the newly arrived remains intently. John wasn’t sure exactly what the consulting detective was expecting to find. This body had more tissue present than the completely skeletonized remains they had been examining, but it still looked to John’s eye to have a significant amount of decomposition.

“Sherlock, I get that if you’re right about all the couples on your list being victims, that there must be another disposal site; we simply don’t have enough bodies. But I don’t see how you know that he isn’t using the basement anymore. He has had three weeks to scrub that basement clean of evidence,” Lestrade asked, his voice managing the usual mix of confusion and irritation it took around Sherlock.

Sherlock either was so deep into his examination of the body that he didn’t answer or more likely he chose to ignore it, considering the question unimportant, so John suppressed a sigh and responded for him. “The construction. It wasn’t noticeable by the time you got there because most of the workers stopped in order to watch the search, but there is a lot of new construction. Looked to me like the area has undergone some major urban development in the last two years. That old farmhouse wouldn’t have had any close neighbors five years ago and now there are new houses everywhere. I’m sure you saw the house being built right on the other side of the property line. Too easy for someone to overhear him torturing his victims.”

Greg’s hand was scrubbing across his forehead, frustration clearly evident on his face. “So this man has another killing room that we have to find.” The DI exhaled heavily before lowering his hand. “Right then, I’ll start with looking into his immediate family. See if he or his parents owned any property in the country. Although given that it’s after seven on a Friday, we will be lucky to get any information between now and Monday.”

John was pondering this for a moment before asking, “Perhaps this is a ridiculous question, but could he have purchased anything under the victims’ names? He has all their ID’s and banking information.”

Lestrade looked interested, and then dismayed when Sherlock chipped in, not looking up from the body. “Improbable. At least for the victims that I discovered. I found no activity under their banking records that indicated a credit check necessary for a home loan. Additionally, a land purchase would have listed their name in the deed registry, which would have raised flags in the system since the person had been listed with the missing person’s units. Even though the police believed in most cases that the couples involved had moved overseas, the cases are technically still open. Furthermore I already performed a search for land purchases under all those names, made either before or after their disappearance. Feel free to check the new victims if you absolutely feel you must waste time better spent researching his family connections for land ownership, and bullying some useless office drone into releasing the information we require.”

Lestrade suppressed a growl, causing John to smother a smirk. He really did get what Greg was feeling, but it was always more amusing not to be the target of one of Sherlock’s absentminded verbal sideswipes. After noticeably biting back a rejoinder, Lestrade seemed to get himself under control and turn away, apparently to do what his royal rudeness had demanded. John shook his head and leaned over until he could whisper softly to Sherlock, “Pushing him a little hard aren’t you?”

“Well, if the fool will go away for two weeks and leave me with only his imbecilic colleagues, what can he expect? You are aware that we would be significantly further in this case if I had the resources of the yard available to me, limited as they may be,” Sherlock answered with a dismissive shrug, an amused smirk crossing his face while John chuckled ruefully.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

John had stop smiling and was examining a small mark on some skin for an impatient Sherlock, when an exhausted looking Lestrade returned several hours later. “No Sherlock, sorry. I can’t be sure what caused this discoloration. Could be a tattoo, ink stain of some sort, a cigarette burn, a chemical burn, or something else entirely. Microscopic examination of the tissue might help, but we would need to fix the tissue in formaldehyde for at least twenty four hours before we could realistically prepare the tissue for slide examination.”

“John! This may give us critical information about how he is torturing the victims.”

“Sorry, Sherlock. Unless you have a way to fix tissue faster for slicing and examination, it’s going to take at least twenty-four hours,” John replied with a shrug.

Sherlock had opened his mouth again, presumably to complain, when Lestrade jumped in. “Not that I don’t want to know the answer to that question, but I need to know if you can give me any clearer idea of how to track and find Davis Reid. I already have customs keeping an eye out for him, and they have all the known victims’ passports flagged. And I have team of sergeants checking into the home ownership records of anyone remotely related to him. What about known aliases?”

“I have not identified any aliases but given the apparent ease with which he has accessed the customs computer network and the fact that I found no record of him leaving the country under his own name, when I know he has done so several times to close bank accounts, one could reasonably infer that he has multiple false passports,” Sherlock replied immediately.

Sherlock actually turned away from the body to continue the conversation with Lestrade, a pretty serious indicator to John that Sherlock considered it an important topic. “I don’t believe he would be foolish enough to attempt to cross the border immediately. Given how controlled Reid appears to be, and the fact that he doesn’t seem overly concerned by our locating him, as evidenced by the flash drive he took the risk to leave us, I think he would wait until it calms somewhat before leaving the country. Heightened border security searching for one specific face in the crowd can only be considered realistically effective for a few days to a week. After that time period guards are likely to stop closely scrutinizing faces due to a combination of mental fatigue and human nature. So we can reasonably infer that someone this controlled would plan on laying low until the border securities decrease and then cross with one of his fake passports later.”

“So do you think he’s hiding at this secondary location?” Lestrade took a quick breath, and then asked another question before Sherlock could answer. “Is it possible that he has another couple?

Sherlock shook his head. “As was confirmed by the Davidsons’ appearance in the video, he spends several days torturing the couple. Why waste the enjoyment he gets out of the torture by spending a half day at work if he had a couple currently? I expect when you start matching up his work history with the presumed dates of disappearance of the couples you will discover that either Reid was on vacation, sick leave, or working from home for several days. Additionally, there have been no missing persons reported in the last seven days that match our killer’s signature, although theoretically he could have taken someone from a surrounding community that is not attached to the Met’s database or the couple has not yet been reported missing. As to whether or not he is at his secondary location, that is difficult to determine. The answer depends on how probable he considers it that we will discover the location quickly.”

“How about taking someone?” John voiced a question that had been concerning him. “I know he‘s on the run, but like you said, he doesn’t seem very worried about being caught. Would he take his next victims to, I don’t know, flaunt it in our faces?”

“Possible, although again improbable,” Sherlock replied dismissively. “Once we locate him, I would be unsurprised to discover that he was stalking several couples in preparation for the abduction of his next victims, but it would be exceedingly risky for him to take another set of victims. The more logical tactic is to wait until he can leave the country and move to a new hunting ground with all new victims. And it’s a tactic that has a high risk of succeeding due to the fact that we missed our best opportunity of catching him unawares might I point out!”

“And deranged serial killers always behave in logical manners?” John shot back quickly, raising a questioning eyebrow. Sherlock glared in response to these words before giving a compromising shrug, a very small shrug, but one that conceded the point however grudgingly.

“Alright. Just as a precaution, I’ll notify all of the London stations and the surrounding communities to contact us immediately about any reported missing couples,” Lestrade said, once again grabbing his mobile phone. “It won’t buy us much time if he takes a couple that is distant from their family like the previous ones and they delay reporting it, but it still could give us a few leads.” Lestrade’s grey head tipped to the side, before he asked slowly, “Do I need to assign some protection to you two? I assume the pair of you are going to show up on Reid’s list of potential targets?”

“As the goal of those numerous outings was to attract his attention, I would hope that our names are listed,” the consulting detective replied smugly. “As for protection, don’t be ridiculous. Reid is both cautious and meticulous. Attempting to abduct John or myself at this late juncture would be a pointlessly dangerous endeavor, particularly since the media has already reported our involvement in the case,” Sherlock finished, waving his mobile phone in the air, the screen moving too fast for John to read, doubtlessly containing an article about the case. “They aren’t yet reporting that it is a hunt for an active serial killer but they are aware that we have found several bodies on the property. This man is not an idiot, he would know that taking us could only exponentially decrease his chance of escaping to continue his chosen craft.”

“Wonderful. At least I don’t have to torture some poor PC with trying to protect you two maniacs, since I’m going to have enough to handle between the case and the press. I had hoped that even with the reporters at Reid’s house that we might fly a little further under the radar for at least a day or two. I suppose we will have to loop the public relations people into the case in the morning,” Lestrade grumbled to himself before wandering to the far corner of the lab, his mobile once again attached to his ear.

Fifteen minutes later Molly, with a hyperactive Sherlock hovering, had just finished placing an excised section of the discolored skin into formaldehyde when Lestrade interrupted with an announcement to the entire room. “Since it’s almost eleven and we all need some sleep if we’re going to stay fresh for this case, I want everyone to pack it in for the night. If we meet back here at ten tomorrow morning that will give us fresh eyes to go over the evidence.”

“That’s eleven hours of wasted time, Lestrade!” Sherlock interrupted with an aggravated shout.

“Is anything in the autopsies likely to give you a lead to where Davis Reid is hiding right now?” Lestrade quizzed.

“All data is useful.”

“Only if it’s accurate. For the average human being lack of sleep increases the likelihood of errors being made.” Lestrade’s hand rose interrupting Sherlock’s objection before he could speak. “I am not calling a halt to the entire case. I have five Sergeants sorting through the records of Reid’s parents and other close relatives, looking for a possible leads, just like you suggested. Other Sergeants are waking up officers in the area, trying to track open missing persons cases that match our profile, both in the last three weeks and over the last five years. If anything turns up you will be the first person I call, but I’m not going to give a defense attorney any reason at all to question the forensic evidence.”

Sherlock threw his hands in the air, dramatically turning his back to stalk off toward the laptop and its attached flash drive. John was beginning to follow him when Molly suddenly tugged on his elbow, and gestured to her office. John was surprised. Although Molly had taken to treating Sherlock more like an eccentric colleague than a freshman crush, she rarely spoke with John when not giving him information that had been requested by the consulting detective.

Molly rummaged through a desk door for a moment, before turning and handing John a small unwrapped black jewelry box. “I know Sherlock and wrapped gifts aren’t exactly a good combination, and he obviously wanted his marriage ceremony to be a private matter between the two of you, but I still wanted to give you something,” she finished shyly.

“Thank…Thank you,” John stammered, completely thrown by the gesture, his guilt over their deception rising to the forefront of his mind. “It’s so kind, Molly, you really didn’t need to.”

“I wanted to congratulate you both.” She seemed to gather her courage before continuing. “I also wanted to thank you personally, John. I lied to you for months and you forgave me without question. You didn’t have to forgive me for my part in Sherlock’s fake suicide. I’m not sure if I could have forgiven someone who didn’t tell me that someone so important to me had been forced to fake their death, and let me go on believing that he was dead. So, well…”

John was shocked at Molly’s reply. He had never known that she had worried about his forgiveness. It had never occurred to him not to; he had just been so grateful that Sherlock had help in order to make that fall safely and disappear when Moriarty had forced Sherlock’s hand with his unknown threat. John shook that thought off, absently wondering if he would ever be able to bring himself to ask Sherlock what he had considered important enough to die for that day. John didn’t have a clue how to respond to Molly’s statement, so he decided to take the route easiest for a British man, just shrug non-committedly, before opening the jewelry box. Inside lay two silver chains.

John looked up, surprised. “Molly, this is a really thoughtful gift.”

“As Sherlock would no doubt point out it’s a simple deduction,” Molly said cheekily, “doctors, and pathologists, need a safe place to keep their rings when they need to take them off for work. And given Sherlock’s propensity for dangerous hands-on experiments…” She trailed off with a smile.

John returned the smile and then reached out, pulling her into a brief hug. “Thank you, Molly. And thank you for saving his life. Thank you for saving him for me,” he whispered before releasing her and striding quickly from the office.

xxxxXXXXXxxxx

Just before nine the next morning John was chivvying a fluttering Mrs. Hudson out of Baker Street, determined to get back before Sherlock became more agitated and set something on fire in a fit of frustration. John had been extremely glad that he wasn’t Lestrade this morning, as the consulting detective had an insane number of texts to the DI and was pacing around the flat muttering about the poor information flow and the ridiculousness of waiting until ten am to continue the autopsies. John had simply nodded and handed over tea and toast, wisely keeping his mouth shut other than assuring the madman that he would be back by half past nine, which would get them to the Yard with plenty of time to spare. The consulting detective had just grunted in reply and strolled into the bathroom with a dismissive wave.

When John finally returned he was ten minutes later then he had promised. Mrs. Hudson and the charity event organizers had made it difficult to break free both quickly and politely, the former wanting to tell him about the card partner’s she had invited and the later wanting to repeatedly thank them for the donation. “Sorry, Sherlock. We still have plenty of time to get to the Yard by ten,” John called, bounding up the top of the stairs, freezing in disbelief at the sight that met him through the open kitchen door.

Sherlock lay unconscious on the kitchen floor next to the table. A trickle of blood was coming from his left temple where his head had apparently hit the table, his hair was still wet and he was only wearing his trousers. John bolted over to his side, shaking his head to clear away the overlapping image of a broken Sherlock, shrouded in his coat lying on hard pavement. John’s left hand scrambled for the gun he wasn’t carrying, his right desperately searching for a pulse. Sherlock had evidently been attacked coming out of the bathroom before he could finish dressing. John’s heart rate instantly lowered once he felt the reassuring beat of the pulse below his fingers. Then he noticed the small puncture wound on Sherlock’s neck.

John eyes darted around the room, searching for the intruder, trying to identify objects he could use as impromptu weapons, when the feel of cold metal at his throat halted him. “Dr. Watson. How wonderful of you to join us, even if your husband’s behavior has prevented me from being entirely prepared for your arrival. I had hoped you would take a little longer to return,” a voice hissed in his ear.

“Sorry to disappoint you Mr. Reid,” John replied carefully.

“No problem whatsoever. I want to assure you, your husband is just fine. He should sleep for another two perhaps three hours. I do apologize for the head wound, the silly man, he attempted to fight the sedative I injected, and I was forced to knock him out. I do hope you won’t be foolish enough to give me that much trouble,” Reid whispered menacingly. “Now stand. Slowly.”

John started to rise slowly from his crouched position, and when he was almost fully upright he struck. Elbow slamming into Reid’s solar plexus forcing air out of his lungs, he simultaneously slammed his left foot down on Reid’s instep. As Reid fell partially backward, his balance ruined by the pain of the sudden attack and gasping in an attempt to control his breathing, John swung his hand up to grab the murderer’s wrist. John shoved the knife further away from his throat, while sliding his body out and away from Reid’s grasp. John was forcing Reid’s wrist toward the wall, trying to break his grip on the blade, when Reid got his breath back and rejoined the fight. John quickly found himself wrestling for control of the knife, the two of them body slamming each other into walls, each attempting to break the other’s grip and gain the upper hand.

John wasn’t sure if it was fifteen seconds or two minutes later but suddenly his head impacted against the side of the stove and he saw stars, and lost his grip on the knife handle for a crucial second. With a bellow of rage, Reid swung the blade at him. John twisted, throwing himself to the side, trying to avoid the strike, screaming when it went hilt deep into his upper right thigh. The combination of twisting in an attempt to evade the attack and the pain of the knife strike brought him crashing to the floor. Reid reacted swiftly, wrenching the knife out, a booted foot landing hard on John’s neck.

“Enough,” Reid growled. “Enough or I kill him right here, right now. Your husband is a pretty smart man so I bet you have seen the video I left for the police. I’m sure you know exactly what I am talking about. The plan isn’t to kill you now. You have a few questions to answer before then. You never know, the police are looking for me, you might get lucky.”

John nodded his reluctant agreement, not willing to risk Sherlock’s life. He needed to keep the two of them alive until they could find a weakness they could exploit and escape, or were rescued. Sherlock had said repeatedly that Reid kept his victims alive for several days. Assuming that he didn’t kill them immediately once they were both unconscious, they might have a chance at survival. Reid smiled widely at John’s capitulation. “Good.”

The killer stepped back away from John, dropping a filthy handkerchief from his pocket onto John’s lap. “You can use that to bandage the wound. You’re bleeding some but looks like we managed to miss the femoral artery, so you shouldn’t be in any danger of bleeding out. Correct?”

John nodded silent agreement to this statement, his eyes flickering over to the still unconscious Sherlock, while binding the wound with the dirty makeshift bandage. He finally looked back up to Reid once he was finished. “Now what?”

“Dose yourself. 1 cc’s IV,” Reid commanded, dropping a drug vial and a needle with a syringe in his lap. “Once you’re out I’ll be injecting another cc into your thigh muscle.”

John picked up the sedative only slightly, surprised to find one of the new anesthetics used in ICU's to keep patients in severe pain under light to moderate trances. Given the way Reid intended, John imagined he would be unconscious and at Reid’s mercy for a couple of hours while the drug leached slowly out of the muscle. John took a deep breath, quickly sliding the needle into his vein, praying the whole time that he had made the right choice. His eyes snapped over to stare at Sherlock, angrily tossing the empty syringe away, hoping his failure to stop Reid hadn't killed the most important person in his life as his vision rapidly grew black, and pleading desperately, "Please, god, let him live."

xxxxXXXXxxxx

FanFiction Writer Notes: Please don’t throw sharp things at me for this chapter ending! I promise I won’t leave you waiting two months this time, but if I get injured I won’t be able to write. Chapter 16 is already half written. I hope all of my amazing readers found this worth the wait. A combination of the uncontrollable complexities of life and my unruly muse ganged up on me make this an extremely difficult chapter to write.

I also want to apologize for those reading it here on livejournal. I have been unsuccessful trying to post this chapter for 4 days. Apparently my computer and livejounal do not like to play nice.

I want to thank all everyone who took the time to review, alert, and favorite. You all encourage me to do better and improve myself. I also want to thank all my reviewers for not leaving huge spoilers in the reviews. It is very kind of you.

Once again thanks to my wonderful Beta Ivory Winter, who had to deal with a huge convoluted chapter that did not want to be written. Her support kept me going when I thought I couldn’t write this one.

Thanks,Rairakku
First   Previous   Next