Bound and Gagged (2/?)wingsoutspreadAugust 19 2010, 23:46:10 UTC
It was half three when he, Lestrade and Co. were all in the station, tense and pacing.
It was silent; everyone already released their worries into the air, giving it an unpleasant tinge.
On the cork board was the note, along with the picture of Sherlock. Watson had shifted his chair so he wouldn’t have to look at it.
Donovan startled them all as she walked in with a tray of mugs; "I thought everyone could do with some caffeine," she shrugged, eyes slightly puffed, giving away the fact she had been crying.
"Thanks," Lestrade smiled tightly, moving to sit back in his chair, turning around to John, "are you sure that Sherlock didn't have a case?"
Watson huffed, "I've told you, he was playing his violin constantly, and he only does that when he has nothing else to do! He didn't act like he usually does at all when he has a case!"
"Fine, back to this damn riddle then. I've sent Anderson to get all the cases that mentions someone who deals with prostitutes," he added for the benefit of Donovan, who slunk into another chair after handing out the mugs. John clutched his in his hands, frowning into the gently steaming contents. Twenty-four hours to save Sherlock, and who knew how long this game would last?
"That's probably going to be half the archive!" She replied in outrage, "It'll take weeks to go through it all, and the Freak obviously doesn't have that long!"
"Well what do you want me to do?" He slammed his hand down, yelling back, "Do you know any famous person who dealt with whores? Because I bloody well don't."
Then Watson got a marvellous idea. "Famous. He has to be famous. And it was sent to me, so he can't just be famous underground or whatever," he looked at Lestrade, frantically trying to put it together in his head, "and it referred to the person in past tense, meaning they're dead."
They stared at each other for a while, trying to figure out between them in silence who was dead, and famous for dealing with whores.
Then John remember the documentary he watch a few weeks back, when Sherlock insisted on studying the effects of a lack of sleep on the average human's brain. Since that obviously ruled him out, Watson had to deal with being prodded and nagged to not fall asleep for three nights, before Sherlock finally found out what he needed and sent Watson to bed.
"Jack the Ripper!"
The other two stared at him like he had lost it, "I doubt it'll be someone from the 19th Century, John."
"Well do you know any other famous person who ‘dealt’ with whores?"
"Fine, we'll take any lead we can get, I suppose. Donovan, go wiki Jack the Ripper, and find out where the first body was found."
Watson let out a sigh. He knew it couldn't be that easy, something will be wrong, or it'll be an over-sized trap for them all. Either way, they had to try. For Sherlock.
It was silent; everyone already released their worries into the air, giving it an unpleasant tinge.
On the cork board was the note, along with the picture of Sherlock. Watson had shifted his chair so he wouldn’t have to look at it.
Donovan startled them all as she walked in with a tray of mugs;
"I thought everyone could do with some caffeine," she shrugged, eyes slightly puffed, giving away the fact she had been crying.
"Thanks," Lestrade smiled tightly, moving to sit back in his chair, turning around to John, "are you sure that Sherlock didn't have a case?"
Watson huffed, "I've told you, he was playing his violin constantly, and he only does that when he has nothing else to do! He didn't act like he usually does at all when he has a case!"
"Fine, back to this damn riddle then. I've sent Anderson to get all the cases that mentions someone who deals with prostitutes," he added for the benefit of Donovan, who slunk into another chair after handing out the mugs. John clutched his in his hands, frowning into the gently steaming contents. Twenty-four hours to save Sherlock, and who knew how long this game would last?
"That's probably going to be half the archive!" She replied in outrage, "It'll take weeks to go through it all, and the Freak obviously doesn't have that long!"
"Well what do you want me to do?" He slammed his hand down, yelling back, "Do you know any famous person who dealt with whores? Because I bloody well don't."
Then Watson got a marvellous idea.
"Famous. He has to be famous. And it was sent to me, so he can't just be famous underground or whatever," he looked at Lestrade, frantically trying to put it together in his head, "and it referred to the person in past tense, meaning they're dead."
They stared at each other for a while, trying to figure out between them in silence who was dead, and famous for dealing with whores.
Then John remember the documentary he watch a few weeks back, when Sherlock insisted on studying the effects of a lack of sleep on the average human's brain. Since that obviously ruled him out, Watson had to deal with being prodded and nagged to not fall asleep for three nights, before Sherlock finally found out what he needed and sent Watson to bed.
"Jack the Ripper!"
The other two stared at him like he had lost it,
"I doubt it'll be someone from the 19th Century, John."
"Well do you know any other famous person who ‘dealt’ with whores?"
"Fine, we'll take any lead we can get, I suppose. Donovan, go wiki Jack the Ripper, and find out where the first body was found."
Watson let out a sigh. He knew it couldn't be that easy, something will be wrong, or it'll be an over-sized trap for them all. Either way, they had to try. For Sherlock.
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