Fic: City of Delusion 5/?, Dresden Files/Sherlock [PG-13]
Title: City of Delusion
Author: A Lanart
Fandoms: Dresden Files (tv verse) and Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/pairing: Harry Dresden, Connie Murphy, Bob, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating/Spoilers: PG-13 (for a bit of swearing). References to the Dresden Files ep The Boone Identity, no other spoilers.
Warnings: Sherlock and magic in the same fic has to be a bit cracky, right?
Word Count: This part 2820
Summary: Greg Lestrade has an unexpected encounter in Chicago - he isn't the only one, either - and discovers there are worse things to deal with than know-it-all consulting detectives.
Disclaimer: The BBC, Mr S Moffat and Mr M Gatiss own this version of Sherlock Holmes though ACD invented him. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden and his universe (although Lionsgate/sci-fi own the tv series).
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title from the song by Muse
Chapter 1 on LJ
Chapter 2 on LJ
Chapter 3 on LJ
Chapter 4 on LJ
(also available on AO3)
~*~
~ 5 ~
When Murphy eventually arrived, Greg thought she looked tired and frustrated, both things he felt with far too much regularity himself and something he understood only too well. She sighed as she sat down next to him.
"I take it that things aren't exactly going as smoothly as you'd like?" He asked carefully, noting that someone - probably John or Harry Dresden - had surreptitiously shifted Bob in his backpack off the table.
"No. Fingerprints weren't on the database and the CCTV was on the fritz so we couldn't get a visual from that either."
"Bugger."
"Yeah. Not that it's really a surprise." Greg had to admit she was right on that one. "And at least we do have that drawing to work from; it's a whole lot better than nothing." She sighed again, then smiled gratefully as Dresden pushed a bottle of beer in her direction. She took a long pull and some of the tension seemed to flow out of her as she sagged into her seat.
Dresden leaned forward. "Hey Murph. When you say the CCTV was on the fritz, did it go off suddenly or had it been down for a while?"
"It went off fairly suddenly, why?" She tilted her head back to look up at Dresden with a suspicious looking frown on her face.
"You know how much CCTV likes me?" Dresden said with a shrug. Murphy let out a snort; it was obviously some sort of standing joke between them. "Well, maybe our perp was the same. You might not be able to track him but you could possibly track his path by the pattern of CCTV failure."
Murphy smiled tiredly. "Now that might just be a useful suggestion for a change. I'll let the team know." She pushed her chair back and wandered off to make a call.
"CCTV failure? More of that magic and electronics not mixing thing?" John asked.
Dresden nodded. "Yeah. If the guy really did have some sort of veil cast on him, it would cause even more interference than normal."
"And if the CCTV failure thing does work, it would give you an idea of how far the effect extends, which would be useful."
John might not be saying that much but everything he did say indicated to Greg that he'd been listening carefully and was very definitely trying to think outside of the box. Probably Sherlock's influence on top of the sort of instantaneous risk assessment, planning and action that a soldier - and a doctor - would be used to making on the fly. Greg envied the seemingly easy acceptance John had for things that defied rational explanation but he supposed that as he lived with Sherlock believing six impossible things before breakfast was probably quite normal, so a conversation about the whys and wherefores of magic must seem almost commonplace. There was a part of Greg that wished he could walk out on Harry Dresden, Bob the ghost and their increasingly believable - and therefore worrying - reality, but as it was the part of him that was metaphorically gibbering in a dark corner under a blanket, it was easy to ignore. He decided to just go with the flow and take his cues from the mad men around him; it seemed to be the safest thing to do under the circumstances.
"Definitely worth a try, then," Greg said.
"You don't get anywhere if you don't try," Dresden said with the determination of someone who had faced and overcome plenty of obstacles to get where he needed to be. Greg understood that and he flashed a smile in Dresden's direction to let him know it.
"True enough. So we wait for Murphy to get back to us?"
"For now," Dresden agreed.
"Time for another drink, then?" John asked. Greg could have kissed him for making what felt like the best suggestion of the day.
*
Harry was pleased to see a hopeful sort of smile on Murphy's face when she returned. It might have been a bit strained around the edges, but it was still a smile and he wasn't going to complain.
She slid into the seat next to Lestrade with a sigh. "I double checked that there wasn't any sort of explainable hardware failure for the CCTV other than the obvious ones which they'd already excluded; everything checked out," she said.
"And?" Harry wanted to know if he was right. Smile or not, he didn't want to make assumptions as assuming things tended to land him in trouble, especially with Murphy.
"There was a pattern, so it looks like we can track him that way."
"That must be a relief," John said.
"Yeah," Murphy replied. Harry smiled as she picked up her half-full beer bottle and saluted him with it. "Thanks Harry."
"Glad I could help," he said. He'd never thought that magic's tendency to interfere with electronics would prove so useful, not that he would tell Murphy that.
"There's one thing that still bothers me about this," she said as she ran her finger through the condensation on the bottle.
"Only one?" Lestrade asked with a snort. Harry managed to bite back the chuckle that threatened to escape; he didn't think Murphy would appreciate it.
She glared at Lestrade, though Harry noticed the smile was still hanging around at the corner of her mouth. "Okay. ONE of the things that still bothers me about this is why our perp wasn't spotted when the vic was discovered by her brother. All the evidence points to him being in the room until the brother unlocked that door. You know it was locked - had been locked with the key from the inside - and the key was still in her pocket, undisturbed. I don't known how the hell the brother did not notice him, even if he was clinging to the ceiling like some sort of ninja spider."
There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence, broken by Sherlock clearing his throat.
"I would have thought that was obvious," he said. Harry didn't know if Sherlock was trying to intimidate - probably, from what evidence he'd gathered about him - but he could have told the guy it was a waste of time where Murphy was concerned; Murphy was not the easily intimidated type.
Murphy switched her glare from Lestrade to Sherlock; the smile had vanished from her face.
"Really? It isn't to me, but then I'm tired and more than a little frustrated with this case," she said. She folded her arms and tilted her head back to better meet Sherlock's gaze. "If you can bear it, Mr Obvious, how about you tell me why?"
"The brother didn't observe of course," Sherlock replied.
"No shit, Sherlock."
Harry decided to interrupt before things got nasty. "I think I know where he's going with this, Murph." The look she flashed him was one of relief.
"You do? Care to explain?"
"If you had just stepped into a room, a room which you had unlocked from the outside, to discover your sister dead in a pool of blood, would you have looked around the room, including up at the ceiling?" Harry asked.
"Probably," Murphy said, after a few moments of thought.
"As would all of us, I think," Harry agreed. "Thing is you and Lestrade are cops, John was a soldier, Sherlock is a detective who solves cases by observing and I make my living by looking at the world in a different way than most people do. None of us are your every day kind of normal people, by any stretch of the imagination."
"You can say that again," Lestrade commented.
"Your point being?" Murphy asked.
"The brother was your every day kind of normal. He was what? Some sort of office worker?" Harry glanced toward Sherlock for confirmation, certain that he would know.
Sherlock nodded. "Correct," he said.
"A fairly regular guy, then. The point is that he's a civilian, not a cop or a soldier or a detective - all of whom have to notice details in their everyday lives - and he's just discovered that his sister has been brutally murdered. His first reaction will be horror, but what is he going to actually do? That's the important thing. That's what is going to count." Harry glanced at each of his table mates in turn.
Everyone looked thoughtful in the few seconds of silence that descended, as if they were running the scenario through their heads.
"He'll freeze, possibly not for very long but he won't be able to help himself," Lestrade offered.
"Then more than likely, he's going to panic. In that state would he notice an agile man jump down behind him and run off?" John added.
"Possibly not, though I would have expected him to catch some sort of movement in his peripheral vision." Murphy still sounded sceptical, but Harry was used to that; he kind of relied on it at times.
"He might well have done, but I don't think it would be a conscious thing. The guy's just had a shock, all his attention is going to be focused on whatever is right in front of him, no matter how gruesome it is." Harry tapped the table in front of him, watching as all eyes tracked the path of his fingers.
Murphy leaned back in her chair until it was balanced on two legs. "OK, that's all well and good," she said, "but how did he hang onto the ceiling in the first place?" Harry gaped at her slightly, he hadn't remembered to think of an answer to that question that didn't involve magic, or that could explain the magic away at least. Oops.
Luckily, it seemed that Sherlock had.
"Physics," Sherlock said.
"I… what?" Murphy sounded suitably puzzled. Harry made a mental note to thank Sherlock later.
"The crime scene is part of an old industrial complex," Sherlock continued.
"So?"
"So, there is plentiful ironwork in the walls and ceiling, manufactured to withstand a considerable load." Sherlock waved a hand in the air that said 'obvious' to Harry without the word being articulated.
Murphy didn't seem to think it was obvious. "What the hell does ironwork have to do with it?" She demanded. Harry kept his mouth shut, Sherlock was more than capable of dealing with Murphy.
"Ferromagnetism."
Murphy's chair landed back onto four legs with a clatter. "You're suggesting our perp attached himself to the ceiling with MAGNETS?"
"It is a rational explanation," Sherlock said with a shrug.
"Which is more than can be said about some of the things that come out of his mouth." Murphy gestured at Harry with one hand and a glare; he thought he'd best defend his honour, just in case she got suspicious if he didn't.
"Hey, I just think outside of the box!" He said.
"Way outside. I'm not even sure you can find the box sometimes."
Harry shrugged and gave Murphy a half-smile, there wasn't really an answer he could give to that. He had no problem giving Bob's backpack a surreptitious elbow though, even if he wasn't sure that anyone else had heard the ghost's disembodied chuckle.
"The use of some sort of hand held magnetic device would also explain why there are only the fingerprints from one hand on the ceiling." Sherlock said.
"Using, and removing, a steel blade would be a just a tad difficult if it was attached to your hand by a magnetic force strong enough to hold you from a ceiling. You'd have to leave one hand free to use the blade and keep the other well out of range." John demonstrated, though how he managed it while sitting down and without falling out of his chair Harry didn't know.
Murphy nodded. "Which would explain what forensics discovered. OK, lets say I'm convinced about the magnets. Where the hell would someone find magnets strong enough to support their entire body weight? I can't imagine they're something you'd be able to get at your local hardware store," she said.
"Something that small and portable would have likely been developed for industrial or military use and wouldn't be available through normal channels," John said, with a narrow eyed glare at Sherlock that Harry couldn't miss, though he didn't understand what lay behind it.
"Great. Just great," Murphy growled as she slapped a hand down onto the table, drawing everyone's attention. Harry noticed that not a single one of them had actually been startled by her outburst, they were more curious than anything else.
"What is?" John asked.
"I get handed a potential answer, and another obstacle appears." She sighed. Harry felt a bit guilty, even though it wasn't exactly his fault for a change. "What does 'not available through normal channels' mean to you, Lestrade?"
"Organised crime or the intelligence service."
"Exactly. The police in Chicago aren't exactly on the best of terms with either."
"Same in London." Lestrade threw a sideways glance at Sherlock, then continued. "Though Sherlock has resources that can occasionally be utilised."
Harry wondered whether the resources were related to intelligence or crime; his money was on both. He himself had mixed resources like that, though his intelligence wasn't always from a source that would be recognised by a person who only walked in the normal world. Still, it could be useful. He drew a breath.
"Murph," he began.
"Absolutely not." She cut him off with a choppy gesture.
"I wouldn't do anything, just put out a few feelers." Harry felt somewhat aggrieved, he knew how Murphy felt about him interfering, but he was trying to help.
"And upset what fragile balance we've got along with it?" Her attention was solely focused on him now, and Harry wasn't sure that was an improvement.
"I'm owed a favour or two," Harry said.
"I don't want to know." Murphy pushed her chair away from the table. Harry knew he was within a hairsbreadth of being told to stay out of the investigation, which could potentially mean that Sherlock and the others would be as well and he knew that would be a mistake. He would have to do some rapid fire persuasion and hope for the best.
"I can at least ask a question without ending up shot or worse. I might not get an answer, but I will be allowed to ask and even the lack of an answer might help." Not his most persuasive speech, but it was honest and Murphy would appreciate that, even if she didn't appreciate the implication.
"Jeez. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place." She stood up, rested her hands on the table and leaned over until she was almost eye to eye with Harry. He blinked at her, but didn't dare move a muscle apart from that, not even to attempt the hint of a smile. "Why do I let you do this to me, Dresden? No, don't answer that." She raised a hand and poked him in the chest. "You get yourself into trouble, I am not bailing you out."
Murphy straightened up and Harry decided it would be the appropriate time to at least chance a tiny smile.
"Understood," he said. And he did, only too well; they had an odd sort of partnership, but there were still boundaries, and not just those caused by his magic.
"Just…"
"I'll be careful."
"Right." She stepped back from the table with a firm nod. "I'll probably be back at the precinct if any of you need to contact me." With that, she turned on her heel and marched out.
Harry let out an explosive sigh; the confrontation could have gone a lot worse. Granted, he probably could have managed things better, but at least she hadn't felt the need to either hit him or arrest him.
"I don't think she's very happy with you, Harry," Bob intoned. By the looks everyone cast in his direction, Harry decided Bob's comment had been perfectly audible to them all.
"When is Murphy ever happy with me on a case?" Harry commented with a sigh and rested his head in his hands for a moment. Then he realised that the sounds of muffled laughter weren't just coming from Bob's backpack. He raised his eyes to find John also had his face buried in his hands, but his shoulders almost shaking with repressed giggles while Sherlock frowned at him imperiously. Lestrade shrugged at Harry, as if to say "this lunatic has nothing to do with me" his expression both amused and resigned. Obviously, first impressions could be deceptive; there was no way anyone who looked at John Watson in the middle of a fit of the giggles would be able to describe him as the 'sensible' one in their little trio, no matter what conclusion they might have drawn from his initial appearance. Then again, none of them really fit the sensible description, not even Murphy, as in Harry's opinion, no good cop could be classed as sensible.
*
Crossposted from http://a-lanart.dreamwidth.org/246154.html. Comment here, comment there; it's all fine.
Author: A Lanart
Fandoms: Dresden Files (tv verse) and Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/pairing: Harry Dresden, Connie Murphy, Bob, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating/Spoilers: PG-13 (for a bit of swearing). References to the Dresden Files ep The Boone Identity, no other spoilers.
Warnings: Sherlock and magic in the same fic has to be a bit cracky, right?
Word Count: This part 2820
Summary: Greg Lestrade has an unexpected encounter in Chicago - he isn't the only one, either - and discovers there are worse things to deal with than know-it-all consulting detectives.
Disclaimer: The BBC, Mr S Moffat and Mr M Gatiss own this version of Sherlock Holmes though ACD invented him. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden and his universe (although Lionsgate/sci-fi own the tv series).
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title from the song by Muse
Chapter 1 on LJ
Chapter 2 on LJ
Chapter 3 on LJ
Chapter 4 on LJ
(also available on AO3)
~*~
~ 5 ~
When Murphy eventually arrived, Greg thought she looked tired and frustrated, both things he felt with far too much regularity himself and something he understood only too well. She sighed as she sat down next to him.
"I take it that things aren't exactly going as smoothly as you'd like?" He asked carefully, noting that someone - probably John or Harry Dresden - had surreptitiously shifted Bob in his backpack off the table.
"No. Fingerprints weren't on the database and the CCTV was on the fritz so we couldn't get a visual from that either."
"Bugger."
"Yeah. Not that it's really a surprise." Greg had to admit she was right on that one. "And at least we do have that drawing to work from; it's a whole lot better than nothing." She sighed again, then smiled gratefully as Dresden pushed a bottle of beer in her direction. She took a long pull and some of the tension seemed to flow out of her as she sagged into her seat.
Dresden leaned forward. "Hey Murph. When you say the CCTV was on the fritz, did it go off suddenly or had it been down for a while?"
"It went off fairly suddenly, why?" She tilted her head back to look up at Dresden with a suspicious looking frown on her face.
"You know how much CCTV likes me?" Dresden said with a shrug. Murphy let out a snort; it was obviously some sort of standing joke between them. "Well, maybe our perp was the same. You might not be able to track him but you could possibly track his path by the pattern of CCTV failure."
Murphy smiled tiredly. "Now that might just be a useful suggestion for a change. I'll let the team know." She pushed her chair back and wandered off to make a call.
"CCTV failure? More of that magic and electronics not mixing thing?" John asked.
Dresden nodded. "Yeah. If the guy really did have some sort of veil cast on him, it would cause even more interference than normal."
"And if the CCTV failure thing does work, it would give you an idea of how far the effect extends, which would be useful."
John might not be saying that much but everything he did say indicated to Greg that he'd been listening carefully and was very definitely trying to think outside of the box. Probably Sherlock's influence on top of the sort of instantaneous risk assessment, planning and action that a soldier - and a doctor - would be used to making on the fly. Greg envied the seemingly easy acceptance John had for things that defied rational explanation but he supposed that as he lived with Sherlock believing six impossible things before breakfast was probably quite normal, so a conversation about the whys and wherefores of magic must seem almost commonplace. There was a part of Greg that wished he could walk out on Harry Dresden, Bob the ghost and their increasingly believable - and therefore worrying - reality, but as it was the part of him that was metaphorically gibbering in a dark corner under a blanket, it was easy to ignore. He decided to just go with the flow and take his cues from the mad men around him; it seemed to be the safest thing to do under the circumstances.
"Definitely worth a try, then," Greg said.
"You don't get anywhere if you don't try," Dresden said with the determination of someone who had faced and overcome plenty of obstacles to get where he needed to be. Greg understood that and he flashed a smile in Dresden's direction to let him know it.
"True enough. So we wait for Murphy to get back to us?"
"For now," Dresden agreed.
"Time for another drink, then?" John asked. Greg could have kissed him for making what felt like the best suggestion of the day.
*
Harry was pleased to see a hopeful sort of smile on Murphy's face when she returned. It might have been a bit strained around the edges, but it was still a smile and he wasn't going to complain.
She slid into the seat next to Lestrade with a sigh. "I double checked that there wasn't any sort of explainable hardware failure for the CCTV other than the obvious ones which they'd already excluded; everything checked out," she said.
"And?" Harry wanted to know if he was right. Smile or not, he didn't want to make assumptions as assuming things tended to land him in trouble, especially with Murphy.
"There was a pattern, so it looks like we can track him that way."
"That must be a relief," John said.
"Yeah," Murphy replied. Harry smiled as she picked up her half-full beer bottle and saluted him with it. "Thanks Harry."
"Glad I could help," he said. He'd never thought that magic's tendency to interfere with electronics would prove so useful, not that he would tell Murphy that.
"There's one thing that still bothers me about this," she said as she ran her finger through the condensation on the bottle.
"Only one?" Lestrade asked with a snort. Harry managed to bite back the chuckle that threatened to escape; he didn't think Murphy would appreciate it.
She glared at Lestrade, though Harry noticed the smile was still hanging around at the corner of her mouth. "Okay. ONE of the things that still bothers me about this is why our perp wasn't spotted when the vic was discovered by her brother. All the evidence points to him being in the room until the brother unlocked that door. You know it was locked - had been locked with the key from the inside - and the key was still in her pocket, undisturbed. I don't known how the hell the brother did not notice him, even if he was clinging to the ceiling like some sort of ninja spider."
There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence, broken by Sherlock clearing his throat.
"I would have thought that was obvious," he said. Harry didn't know if Sherlock was trying to intimidate - probably, from what evidence he'd gathered about him - but he could have told the guy it was a waste of time where Murphy was concerned; Murphy was not the easily intimidated type.
Murphy switched her glare from Lestrade to Sherlock; the smile had vanished from her face.
"Really? It isn't to me, but then I'm tired and more than a little frustrated with this case," she said. She folded her arms and tilted her head back to better meet Sherlock's gaze. "If you can bear it, Mr Obvious, how about you tell me why?"
"The brother didn't observe of course," Sherlock replied.
"No shit, Sherlock."
Harry decided to interrupt before things got nasty. "I think I know where he's going with this, Murph." The look she flashed him was one of relief.
"You do? Care to explain?"
"If you had just stepped into a room, a room which you had unlocked from the outside, to discover your sister dead in a pool of blood, would you have looked around the room, including up at the ceiling?" Harry asked.
"Probably," Murphy said, after a few moments of thought.
"As would all of us, I think," Harry agreed. "Thing is you and Lestrade are cops, John was a soldier, Sherlock is a detective who solves cases by observing and I make my living by looking at the world in a different way than most people do. None of us are your every day kind of normal people, by any stretch of the imagination."
"You can say that again," Lestrade commented.
"Your point being?" Murphy asked.
"The brother was your every day kind of normal. He was what? Some sort of office worker?" Harry glanced toward Sherlock for confirmation, certain that he would know.
Sherlock nodded. "Correct," he said.
"A fairly regular guy, then. The point is that he's a civilian, not a cop or a soldier or a detective - all of whom have to notice details in their everyday lives - and he's just discovered that his sister has been brutally murdered. His first reaction will be horror, but what is he going to actually do? That's the important thing. That's what is going to count." Harry glanced at each of his table mates in turn.
Everyone looked thoughtful in the few seconds of silence that descended, as if they were running the scenario through their heads.
"He'll freeze, possibly not for very long but he won't be able to help himself," Lestrade offered.
"Then more than likely, he's going to panic. In that state would he notice an agile man jump down behind him and run off?" John added.
"Possibly not, though I would have expected him to catch some sort of movement in his peripheral vision." Murphy still sounded sceptical, but Harry was used to that; he kind of relied on it at times.
"He might well have done, but I don't think it would be a conscious thing. The guy's just had a shock, all his attention is going to be focused on whatever is right in front of him, no matter how gruesome it is." Harry tapped the table in front of him, watching as all eyes tracked the path of his fingers.
Murphy leaned back in her chair until it was balanced on two legs. "OK, that's all well and good," she said, "but how did he hang onto the ceiling in the first place?" Harry gaped at her slightly, he hadn't remembered to think of an answer to that question that didn't involve magic, or that could explain the magic away at least. Oops.
Luckily, it seemed that Sherlock had.
"Physics," Sherlock said.
"I… what?" Murphy sounded suitably puzzled. Harry made a mental note to thank Sherlock later.
"The crime scene is part of an old industrial complex," Sherlock continued.
"So?"
"So, there is plentiful ironwork in the walls and ceiling, manufactured to withstand a considerable load." Sherlock waved a hand in the air that said 'obvious' to Harry without the word being articulated.
Murphy didn't seem to think it was obvious. "What the hell does ironwork have to do with it?" She demanded. Harry kept his mouth shut, Sherlock was more than capable of dealing with Murphy.
"Ferromagnetism."
Murphy's chair landed back onto four legs with a clatter. "You're suggesting our perp attached himself to the ceiling with MAGNETS?"
"It is a rational explanation," Sherlock said with a shrug.
"Which is more than can be said about some of the things that come out of his mouth." Murphy gestured at Harry with one hand and a glare; he thought he'd best defend his honour, just in case she got suspicious if he didn't.
"Hey, I just think outside of the box!" He said.
"Way outside. I'm not even sure you can find the box sometimes."
Harry shrugged and gave Murphy a half-smile, there wasn't really an answer he could give to that. He had no problem giving Bob's backpack a surreptitious elbow though, even if he wasn't sure that anyone else had heard the ghost's disembodied chuckle.
"The use of some sort of hand held magnetic device would also explain why there are only the fingerprints from one hand on the ceiling." Sherlock said.
"Using, and removing, a steel blade would be a just a tad difficult if it was attached to your hand by a magnetic force strong enough to hold you from a ceiling. You'd have to leave one hand free to use the blade and keep the other well out of range." John demonstrated, though how he managed it while sitting down and without falling out of his chair Harry didn't know.
Murphy nodded. "Which would explain what forensics discovered. OK, lets say I'm convinced about the magnets. Where the hell would someone find magnets strong enough to support their entire body weight? I can't imagine they're something you'd be able to get at your local hardware store," she said.
"Something that small and portable would have likely been developed for industrial or military use and wouldn't be available through normal channels," John said, with a narrow eyed glare at Sherlock that Harry couldn't miss, though he didn't understand what lay behind it.
"Great. Just great," Murphy growled as she slapped a hand down onto the table, drawing everyone's attention. Harry noticed that not a single one of them had actually been startled by her outburst, they were more curious than anything else.
"What is?" John asked.
"I get handed a potential answer, and another obstacle appears." She sighed. Harry felt a bit guilty, even though it wasn't exactly his fault for a change. "What does 'not available through normal channels' mean to you, Lestrade?"
"Organised crime or the intelligence service."
"Exactly. The police in Chicago aren't exactly on the best of terms with either."
"Same in London." Lestrade threw a sideways glance at Sherlock, then continued. "Though Sherlock has resources that can occasionally be utilised."
Harry wondered whether the resources were related to intelligence or crime; his money was on both. He himself had mixed resources like that, though his intelligence wasn't always from a source that would be recognised by a person who only walked in the normal world. Still, it could be useful. He drew a breath.
"Murph," he began.
"Absolutely not." She cut him off with a choppy gesture.
"I wouldn't do anything, just put out a few feelers." Harry felt somewhat aggrieved, he knew how Murphy felt about him interfering, but he was trying to help.
"And upset what fragile balance we've got along with it?" Her attention was solely focused on him now, and Harry wasn't sure that was an improvement.
"I'm owed a favour or two," Harry said.
"I don't want to know." Murphy pushed her chair away from the table. Harry knew he was within a hairsbreadth of being told to stay out of the investigation, which could potentially mean that Sherlock and the others would be as well and he knew that would be a mistake. He would have to do some rapid fire persuasion and hope for the best.
"I can at least ask a question without ending up shot or worse. I might not get an answer, but I will be allowed to ask and even the lack of an answer might help." Not his most persuasive speech, but it was honest and Murphy would appreciate that, even if she didn't appreciate the implication.
"Jeez. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place." She stood up, rested her hands on the table and leaned over until she was almost eye to eye with Harry. He blinked at her, but didn't dare move a muscle apart from that, not even to attempt the hint of a smile. "Why do I let you do this to me, Dresden? No, don't answer that." She raised a hand and poked him in the chest. "You get yourself into trouble, I am not bailing you out."
Murphy straightened up and Harry decided it would be the appropriate time to at least chance a tiny smile.
"Understood," he said. And he did, only too well; they had an odd sort of partnership, but there were still boundaries, and not just those caused by his magic.
"Just…"
"I'll be careful."
"Right." She stepped back from the table with a firm nod. "I'll probably be back at the precinct if any of you need to contact me." With that, she turned on her heel and marched out.
Harry let out an explosive sigh; the confrontation could have gone a lot worse. Granted, he probably could have managed things better, but at least she hadn't felt the need to either hit him or arrest him.
"I don't think she's very happy with you, Harry," Bob intoned. By the looks everyone cast in his direction, Harry decided Bob's comment had been perfectly audible to them all.
"When is Murphy ever happy with me on a case?" Harry commented with a sigh and rested his head in his hands for a moment. Then he realised that the sounds of muffled laughter weren't just coming from Bob's backpack. He raised his eyes to find John also had his face buried in his hands, but his shoulders almost shaking with repressed giggles while Sherlock frowned at him imperiously. Lestrade shrugged at Harry, as if to say "this lunatic has nothing to do with me" his expression both amused and resigned. Obviously, first impressions could be deceptive; there was no way anyone who looked at John Watson in the middle of a fit of the giggles would be able to describe him as the 'sensible' one in their little trio, no matter what conclusion they might have drawn from his initial appearance. Then again, none of them really fit the sensible description, not even Murphy, as in Harry's opinion, no good cop could be classed as sensible.
*
Crossposted from http://a-lanart.dreamwidth.org/246154.html. Comment here, comment there; it's all fine.