Okay, it's not EXACTLY what you asked for but hopefully it's okay? *looks nervous*
~~~
Later, the report would tell how the suspect's accomplice - armed illegally, of course - had surprised them, immediately getting one over on Sergeant S. Donovan and knocking her out mere moments after they'd entered the building. Detective Inspector G. Lestrade had struggled briefly with their attacker before being repeatedly shoved hard back against a wall, knocking him unconscious. The report would go on to give a brief description of how the assailant's height and weight slightly exceeded that of the detective inspector but unfortunately, the man had been wearing a mask and the colour of his eyes had been obscured by the darkness of the warehouse. Sgt Donovan had been the first to recover and call for help, the detective inspector awakening just before they arrived. They'd been greeted with quite a scene - two dazed officers clutching slowly bleeding heads and a swiftly cooling body, several bullet holes explaining why he too hadn't fled. Further officers were called to sweep the area and arrived just behind the ambulance, but the mystery man was gone. The report would go on to surmise that it had been a disgruntled associate of the man shot, displeased with his piece of the pie or some such, who seized the opportunity afforded him by the poor detectives' appearance to take out the one who'd so wronged him. Then, his job done, the new murderer had fled leaving the two officers to awake alone with the body.
The report would lie.
It'd been stupid of them to barge in like they had, Greg knew that. Backup was a short call away and could have been there in mere minutes but if he'd called for them like Sally had suggested instead of claiming his mobile's battery had gone dead and proceeding without them, it was entirely possible the killer would have gotten away, and he just couldn't risk that.
Well, the other killer, now. There was still one loose, but not the one the rest of the police thought they were looking for. No, this one was sitting in the back of the ambulance, a bright orange blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a frown creasing his forehead. He was in shock, they'd said, and possibly concussed, so they were keeping him under observation for a bit. Sally had already been questioned and sent home for the night, her memory blessedly blank the way he was claiming his own to be and luckily, it seemed the others believed him.
Well, most of the others.
He'd stiffened when Sherlock swanned onto the scene, his coat flapping about and his doctor curiously absent. Not that Greg wasn't happy for the man - everyone needed a bit of a life outside of their mutual fascination with Sherlock Holmes, after all - but he knew John's presence would have helped temper the other and he was not looking forward to facing the consulting detective without the benefit of his reigning himself in a bit the way he always did around his blogger.
"Sherlock," he greeted, nodding and wincing despite himself when the man in question finally made his way over to him, thankfully alone.
"Lestrade," Sherlock returned, jaw and eyes serious. He stepped closer and took Greg's head in his hands, surprisingly gentle as he tilted it back and forth under the ambulance's light. "I've told the others I need to examine your injury and that I can't do so if they're breathing their ridiculous conclusions in my ear. For some reason, they've opted to stay with then body," he quirked a small smile at him and Greg had almost thought he'd gotten away with it when suddenly Sherlock's face went completely stone cold and he softly demanded, "Why?"
"Why what?" Greg asked, trying to sound confused though they both knew he was grasping at straws. "Why'd we go in without backup? My phone-"
"Why what?" Greg asked, trying to sound confused though they both knew he was grasping at straws. "Why'd we go in without backup? My phone-"
"Is vibrating in your pocket at this very moment, most likely a call from your wife who's heard possibly from your boss, probably from Donovan, about what's happened," Sherlock interrupted, giving him a look Greg had most commonly seen aimed at Anderson. "I'm also not asking why you shot the man - no, I know who he is and what he did to those children - and I'm not questioning your decision to render your unknowing-accomplice unconscious - you've most likely done her some small favour there, actually. What I want to know, Detective Inspector," he practically spat the words, previously well-concealed fury sneaking into his face, "is why you decided to steal the only gun I have ready access to in order to do it."
Greg stared open-mouthed at him for what felt like ages before snapping his mouth shut and incredulously asking, "That's what you have a problem with?!"
"Well of course it is," Sherlock said, giving him another of his you-are-an-idiot glares. "I don't particularly care that you decided to take the law in your own hands tonight. He was, simply put, not a good man," his mouth quirked at his description of the child molester and murderer lying in the pool of his own blood Greg had put him in. His face went stern again as he continued. "What I do find terribly annoying is that you've taken John's firearm which has proved to be incalculably valuable to me in the past in many varying situations," Greg's eyes widened as a few things slotted into place, his previous deduction as to the weapon's owner based on the smiling face on the wall that had told him everything he needed to know about where exactly to get what he needed crumbling in the wake of Sherlock's inadvertent admission, but the other just carried on as though he hadn't noticed anything had changed. Indeed, as far as he was concerned it might not have - of course the army-issued weapon belonged to the ex-army doctor. Obvious, really, when he thought about it a bit more. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the others words just in time to hear, "…and now you're going to have to find a replacement for it as well as explain the situation to John. I'm not having the blame for its loss placed on my shoulders, I can assure you. Since you've got rid of ours, you'll just have to-"
"I haven't," Greg said, wincing at the utterly incredulous look Sherlock turned on him. "I mean, not really. It's not where they'll find it in there - it was still in my coat pocket when they took us out to get checked over. I couldn't risk one of them picking it up and finding only my fingerprints on it. I was able to kick it under here by covering the noise of dropping it with a little stumbling and banging my knee against the bumper. They didn't notice, not any of them. Not even Sally," he admitted, shaking his head a little. "I probably wouldn't have either if I hadn't been the one to - Sherlock! What are you doing? Put that away-" he reached for the now-retrieved gun but missed, Sherlock sticking it in his own coat pocket instead. "You can't hold on to it like that! If someone sees -"
"They won't. I'm the last person any of them will think to check, particularly since I wasn't even involved in the night's activities until after the shooting occurred. Besides, since you failed to actually dispose of the weapon you'd just committed murder with," Sherlock seemed to almost relish the other's wince, "I've decided to take it back home with me. Don't worry, they still won't find it come your next drugs bust though I think this should buy me, oh, a bare minimum of two or so months reprieve from them, don't you agree? So to be clear - no dangling them over my head to try and force me to capitulate to your demands to help with boring cases - especially not regarding the new serial killer one."
"Serial - Sherlock, we don't have another serial killer case!"
"Serial - Sherlock, we don't have another serial killer case!"
"You will as soon as they examine those bullets," Sherlock cheerfully replied, tucking his coat around himself in preparation to leave.
"As soon as we - Sherlock, who else have you killed with that gun?" Greg demanded, unwilling to admit even to himself the fear starting to creep into his voice.
"Oh, one fewer persons than you now have," Sherlock replied glibly, using the re-knotting of his scarf as an excuse to stay and tease him. "But I wouldn't worry about that. You'll be able to steer the investigation completely in the dark I'm sure. Assuming they give the case to you, of course. I know they wouldn't typically when you're one of the officers involved in one of the incidents even though it did occur in your area but surely since the original case they'll find a matching bullet in was entirely yours they'll at least try to include you in their little group, hm?"
"The case-" Greg stopped, eyes widening as he suddenly realised exactly what Sherlock was talking about. "Sherlock, you - no, Jo- he- the cabbie?"
Sherlock's grin widened and he companionably patted Greg on the shoulder. "There, see? You're not quite as thick as you so often appear to be! I can't begin to tell you how glad I am that this has all worked out for the best and I look forward to turning down any and all requests to assist your department with this particular serial murderer and any other case I deem entirely too boring for my time. Good night, Detective!"
Greg ignored the other's cheery wave and frustratedly ran his hands through his hair. Trust Sherlock Holmes to somehow manage to make him regret killing a child molester. Still, he reflected as a small smile started to creep across his face again, there were worse ways the evening could have turned out. Worse how he wasn't entirely sure yet, but he was certain it could have been and for that, he was grateful.
~~~
done! I hope it's all right!
and no, I don't know where the poor paramedic who should have been keeping an eye on Lestrade went, either. Maybe he was nice enough to take Sally home? Maybe he got borrowed to help Anderson look at the body? Your guess is as good as mine!
Re: FILL 3/3calli_thaalaMarch 31 2011, 16:42:36 UTC
This is not all right, this is fantastic! Great interaction/dialogue between Sherlock and Lestrade, and Sherlock rescuing the gun was strangely endearing :) and the serial killer fiasco just awesome.
~~~
Later, the report would tell how the suspect's accomplice - armed illegally, of course - had surprised them, immediately getting one over on Sergeant S. Donovan and knocking her out mere moments after they'd entered the building. Detective Inspector G. Lestrade had struggled briefly with their attacker before being repeatedly shoved hard back against a wall, knocking him unconscious. The report would go on to give a brief description of how the assailant's height and weight slightly exceeded that of the detective inspector but unfortunately, the man had been wearing a mask and the colour of his eyes had been obscured by the darkness of the warehouse. Sgt Donovan had been the first to recover and call for help, the detective inspector awakening just before they arrived. They'd been greeted with quite a scene - two dazed officers clutching slowly bleeding heads and a swiftly cooling body, several bullet holes explaining why he too hadn't fled. Further officers were called to sweep the area and arrived just behind the ambulance, but the mystery man was gone. The report would go on to surmise that it had been a disgruntled associate of the man shot, displeased with his piece of the pie or some such, who seized the opportunity afforded him by the poor detectives' appearance to take out the one who'd so wronged him. Then, his job done, the new murderer had fled leaving the two officers to awake alone with the body.
The report would lie.
It'd been stupid of them to barge in like they had, Greg knew that. Backup was a short call away and could have been there in mere minutes but if he'd called for them like Sally had suggested instead of claiming his mobile's battery had gone dead and proceeding without them, it was entirely possible the killer would have gotten away, and he just couldn't risk that.
Well, the other killer, now. There was still one loose, but not the one the rest of the police thought they were looking for. No, this one was sitting in the back of the ambulance, a bright orange blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a frown creasing his forehead. He was in shock, they'd said, and possibly concussed, so they were keeping him under observation for a bit. Sally had already been questioned and sent home for the night, her memory blessedly blank the way he was claiming his own to be and luckily, it seemed the others believed him.
Well, most of the others.
He'd stiffened when Sherlock swanned onto the scene, his coat flapping about and his doctor curiously absent. Not that Greg wasn't happy for the man - everyone needed a bit of a life outside of their mutual fascination with Sherlock Holmes, after all - but he knew John's presence would have helped temper the other and he was not looking forward to facing the consulting detective without the benefit of his reigning himself in a bit the way he always did around his blogger.
"Sherlock," he greeted, nodding and wincing despite himself when the man in question finally made his way over to him, thankfully alone.
"Lestrade," Sherlock returned, jaw and eyes serious. He stepped closer and took Greg's head in his hands, surprisingly gentle as he tilted it back and forth under the ambulance's light. "I've told the others I need to examine your injury and that I can't do so if they're breathing their ridiculous conclusions in my ear. For some reason, they've opted to stay with then body," he quirked a small smile at him and Greg had almost thought he'd gotten away with it when suddenly Sherlock's face went completely stone cold and he softly demanded, "Why?"
"Why what?" Greg asked, trying to sound confused though they both knew he was grasping at straws. "Why'd we go in without backup? My phone-"
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"Is vibrating in your pocket at this very moment, most likely a call from your wife who's heard possibly from your boss, probably from Donovan, about what's happened," Sherlock interrupted, giving him a look Greg had most commonly seen aimed at Anderson. "I'm also not asking why you shot the man - no, I know who he is and what he did to those children - and I'm not questioning your decision to render your unknowing-accomplice unconscious - you've most likely done her some small favour there, actually. What I want to know, Detective Inspector," he practically spat the words, previously well-concealed fury sneaking into his face, "is why you decided to steal the only gun I have ready access to in order to do it."
Greg stared open-mouthed at him for what felt like ages before snapping his mouth shut and incredulously asking, "That's what you have a problem with?!"
"Well of course it is," Sherlock said, giving him another of his you-are-an-idiot glares. "I don't particularly care that you decided to take the law in your own hands tonight. He was, simply put, not a good man," his mouth quirked at his description of the child molester and murderer lying in the pool of his own blood Greg had put him in. His face went stern again as he continued. "What I do find terribly annoying is that you've taken John's firearm which has proved to be incalculably valuable to me in the past in many varying situations," Greg's eyes widened as a few things slotted into place, his previous deduction as to the weapon's owner based on the smiling face on the wall that had told him everything he needed to know about where exactly to get what he needed crumbling in the wake of Sherlock's inadvertent admission, but the other just carried on as though he hadn't noticed anything had changed. Indeed, as far as he was concerned it might not have - of course the army-issued weapon belonged to the ex-army doctor. Obvious, really, when he thought about it a bit more. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the others words just in time to hear, "…and now you're going to have to find a replacement for it as well as explain the situation to John. I'm not having the blame for its loss placed on my shoulders, I can assure you. Since you've got rid of ours, you'll just have to-"
"I haven't," Greg said, wincing at the utterly incredulous look Sherlock turned on him. "I mean, not really. It's not where they'll find it in there - it was still in my coat pocket when they took us out to get checked over. I couldn't risk one of them picking it up and finding only my fingerprints on it. I was able to kick it under here by covering the noise of dropping it with a little stumbling and banging my knee against the bumper. They didn't notice, not any of them. Not even Sally," he admitted, shaking his head a little. "I probably wouldn't have either if I hadn't been the one to - Sherlock! What are you doing? Put that away-" he reached for the now-retrieved gun but missed, Sherlock sticking it in his own coat pocket instead. "You can't hold on to it like that! If someone sees -"
"They won't. I'm the last person any of them will think to check, particularly since I wasn't even involved in the night's activities until after the shooting occurred. Besides, since you failed to actually dispose of the weapon you'd just committed murder with," Sherlock seemed to almost relish the other's wince, "I've decided to take it back home with me. Don't worry, they still won't find it come your next drugs bust though I think this should buy me, oh, a bare minimum of two or so months reprieve from them, don't you agree? So to be clear - no dangling them over my head to try and force me to capitulate to your demands to help with boring cases - especially not regarding the new serial killer one."
"Serial - Sherlock, we don't have another serial killer case!"
Reply
"You will as soon as they examine those bullets," Sherlock cheerfully replied, tucking his coat around himself in preparation to leave.
"As soon as we - Sherlock, who else have you killed with that gun?" Greg demanded, unwilling to admit even to himself the fear starting to creep into his voice.
"Oh, one fewer persons than you now have," Sherlock replied glibly, using the re-knotting of his scarf as an excuse to stay and tease him. "But I wouldn't worry about that. You'll be able to steer the investigation completely in the dark I'm sure. Assuming they give the case to you, of course. I know they wouldn't typically when you're one of the officers involved in one of the incidents even though it did occur in your area but surely since the original case they'll find a matching bullet in was entirely yours they'll at least try to include you in their little group, hm?"
"The case-" Greg stopped, eyes widening as he suddenly realised exactly what Sherlock was talking about. "Sherlock, you - no, Jo- he- the cabbie?"
Sherlock's grin widened and he companionably patted Greg on the shoulder. "There, see? You're not quite as thick as you so often appear to be! I can't begin to tell you how glad I am that this has all worked out for the best and I look forward to turning down any and all requests to assist your department with this particular serial murderer and any other case I deem entirely too boring for my time. Good night, Detective!"
Greg ignored the other's cheery wave and frustratedly ran his hands through his hair. Trust Sherlock Holmes to somehow manage to make him regret killing a child molester. Still, he reflected as a small smile started to creep across his face again, there were worse ways the evening could have turned out. Worse how he wasn't entirely sure yet, but he was certain it could have been and for that, he was grateful.
~~~
done! I hope it's all right!
and no, I don't know where the poor paramedic who should have been keeping an eye on Lestrade went, either. Maybe he was nice enough to take Sally home? Maybe he got borrowed to help Anderson look at the body? Your guess is as good as mine!
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I would like to tell you about the internets. You've won them.
<3
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Great interaction/dialogue between Sherlock and Lestrade, and Sherlock rescuing the gun was strangely endearing :) and the serial killer fiasco just awesome.
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