Fill - Double Dose, Part 3alindor1306February 17 2011, 22:00:51 UTC
WARNING: REFERENCES TO A BLOODY MURDER IN THIS PART
A week later, Rory's chest infection had all but passed, and Sherlock was rapidly approaching dangerous levels of boredom. John had taken to carrying his gun with him at all times to avoid further damage to the flat's walls, and, that morning, after Sherlock had disturbingly hinted at a developing interest in experimenting upon identical twins, he had firmly ordered his flatmate to go the Barts' morgue and find something dead to play with.
So, John now found himself sitting in his armchair, with Rory occupying Sherlock's usual spot lying on the sofa, watching Doctor Who reruns on BBC3.
“Why don't they just blink one eye at a time?” Rory mused, as the sounds of heavy, rushed footsteps on the stairs echoed into the room.
“Not so good from a plot point of view.” John commented dryly, turning to face Sherlock as he ran through the door.
“Case!” Sherlock exclaimed happily, bouncing into the centre of the room and standing right in front of the television. “Grab your coats!”
“What, both of us?” John asked incredulously. “You want Rory to come?”
“Well I can't leave him here alone!” Sherlock said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Sorry, why can't I be left alone?” Rory asked, sitting up and looking affronted. “I'm not going to wreck the flat.”
“John has the gun.” Sherlock stated. “John is coming with me. Hence, you're coming with me as well. Now, get your coat. God only knows what Anderson's doing to the crime scene while we sit here chatting.” Rory nodded, and he and John stood up to quickly pull their coats on, while Sherlock impatiently stood and watched.
On their way out of the flat, Sherlock turned round and pointed at Rory. “Make sure you buy some hair dye when we've solved this - you've got nearly as much root as hair.”
*
The crime scene, it turned out, was at the Dorchester Hotel. Getting out of the cab and walking into the hotel lobby, John turned round to address Sherlock.
“Do they know Rory's coming?” He asked, watching as the detective pressed the button to call the lift. “Police don't generally like just anybody wandering onto crime scenes.”
“He's with me.” Sherlock replied as the lift opened and he stepped inside, pressing the button for the fourth floor. “They'll let him in because I want them to. Lestrade needs me too much to refuse something I want.”
John nodded, smirking at Rory and rolling his eyes.
“Good to know you haven't let your ego get too big.” Rory commented dryly.
*
Rory was staring at all of the activity going on around him as they walked up the corridor towards the hotel room in which the murder had taken place.
“Oh Christ.” Donovan exclaimed as she saw Sherlock approaching. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Same as usual, Sally.” Sherlock said with a smirk. “Lestrade seemed to think you need me.” He lifted the crime scene tape and stepped under, holding it up for John to follow, before glaring up the corridor at his brother, who had stopped to look at one of the paintings lining the walls. “Rory!”
“Hold on.” Donovan objected. “This is a crime scene. You can't just bring anyone in here, freak.”
Rory whirled round, stomping up the corridor and coming to a halt in front of the Sergeant.
“Freak?” He repeated, looking angry. “Did you call him a freak?”
“Leave it, Rory.” Sherlock said with a warning look.
Sally looked horrified. “Oh god.” She said. “There's two of you.”
“Excellent deduction, Sergeant Donovan.” Sherlock smirked. “Although a quick glance at my file at Scotland Yard would have informed you that I have a twin. All immediate family members are listed for emergency contacts - including my brothers.”
“Brothers?” Donovan repeated, drawing a hiss of irritation from Sherlock. “How many of you are there?”
“Five.” Sherlock responded. “Now, if you don't mind, that corpse isn't getting any fresher. John, Rory, come on!”
A week later, Rory's chest infection had all but passed, and Sherlock was rapidly approaching dangerous levels of boredom. John had taken to carrying his gun with him at all times to avoid further damage to the flat's walls, and, that morning, after Sherlock had disturbingly hinted at a developing interest in experimenting upon identical twins, he had firmly ordered his flatmate to go the Barts' morgue and find something dead to play with.
So, John now found himself sitting in his armchair, with Rory occupying Sherlock's usual spot lying on the sofa, watching Doctor Who reruns on BBC3.
“Why don't they just blink one eye at a time?” Rory mused, as the sounds of heavy, rushed footsteps on the stairs echoed into the room.
“Not so good from a plot point of view.” John commented dryly, turning to face Sherlock as he ran through the door.
“Case!” Sherlock exclaimed happily, bouncing into the centre of the room and standing right in front of the television. “Grab your coats!”
“What, both of us?” John asked incredulously. “You want Rory to come?”
“Well I can't leave him here alone!” Sherlock said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Sorry, why can't I be left alone?” Rory asked, sitting up and looking affronted. “I'm not going to wreck the flat.”
“John has the gun.” Sherlock stated. “John is coming with me. Hence, you're coming with me as well. Now, get your coat. God only knows what Anderson's doing to the crime scene while we sit here chatting.” Rory nodded, and he and John stood up to quickly pull their coats on, while Sherlock impatiently stood and watched.
On their way out of the flat, Sherlock turned round and pointed at Rory. “Make sure you buy some hair dye when we've solved this - you've got nearly as much root as hair.”
*
The crime scene, it turned out, was at the Dorchester Hotel. Getting out of the cab and walking into the hotel lobby, John turned round to address Sherlock.
“Do they know Rory's coming?” He asked, watching as the detective pressed the button to call the lift. “Police don't generally like just anybody wandering onto crime scenes.”
“He's with me.” Sherlock replied as the lift opened and he stepped inside, pressing the button for the fourth floor. “They'll let him in because I want them to. Lestrade needs me too much to refuse something I want.”
John nodded, smirking at Rory and rolling his eyes.
“Good to know you haven't let your ego get too big.” Rory commented dryly.
*
Rory was staring at all of the activity going on around him as they walked up the corridor towards the hotel room in which the murder had taken place.
“Oh Christ.” Donovan exclaimed as she saw Sherlock approaching. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Same as usual, Sally.” Sherlock said with a smirk. “Lestrade seemed to think you need me.” He lifted the crime scene tape and stepped under, holding it up for John to follow, before glaring up the corridor at his brother, who had stopped to look at one of the paintings lining the walls. “Rory!”
“Hold on.” Donovan objected. “This is a crime scene. You can't just bring anyone in here, freak.”
Rory whirled round, stomping up the corridor and coming to a halt in front of the Sergeant.
“Freak?” He repeated, looking angry. “Did you call him a freak?”
“Leave it, Rory.” Sherlock said with a warning look.
Sally looked horrified. “Oh god.” She said. “There's two of you.”
“Excellent deduction, Sergeant Donovan.” Sherlock smirked. “Although a quick glance at my file at Scotland Yard would have informed you that I have a twin. All immediate family members are listed for emergency contacts - including my brothers.”
“Brothers?” Donovan repeated, drawing a hiss of irritation from Sherlock. “How many of you are there?”
“Five.” Sherlock responded. “Now, if you don't mind, that corpse isn't getting any fresher. John, Rory, come on!”
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