Too Close to Holmes - 4/?
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 - Bait
John sighed, watching as Sherlock continued to loiter around the outside edge of the crime scene. They had arrived more than half an hour ago, and Sherlock had spent just two minutes glancing around the area where the twenty-fourth victim had been found, before walking away to stand and watch the police at work.
"What are we doing here?" John asked with an impatient sigh.
"Waiting." Sherlock said simply. "Just waiting for the opportune moment to lay the bait. And here it is."
John watched, baffled, as Sherlock wandered aimlessly over towards the police cordons, where a news crew from the BBC had just started filming while a reporter commented on the latest in the series of attacks.
Sherlock seemed to be surveying the crime scene, standing just behind the reporter with his back to the press and quite clearly within the view of the camera. He beckoned Lestrade over with a wave, leaning down to whisper something into the Detective Inspector's ear, absently reaching behind him to lift the fabric of his shirt and scratch for a moment at the skin half way up his back. Lestrade looked confused for a moment, arguing briefly with the consulting detective, before rolling his eyes and nodding in reluctant agreement with whatever the request had been.
"What was that about?" John asked, walking over to join Sherlock once Lestrade had returned to the centre of crime scene.
Sherlock walked further down the line of reporters, standing, again with his back to them to survey the playground. "I asked him to arrange a press conference." He muttered quietly, once again reaching behind himself to scratch his back. "Under the guise of reassuring the public."
"And what is it really for?" John asked, following Sherlock's lead and whispering carefully.
Sherlock glanced across at his flatmate and smirked. "Laying the bait."
The press room at Scotland Yard was packed with reporters and television crews when John and Sherlock entered the room, standing to the side to watch the press conference.
"Remember." Sherlock said as Lestrade passed to give his reassurances to the press. "Whatever I do, make sure you address me by my first name, and don't cover your microphone under any circumstances."
Lestrade simply nodded, looking uncomfortable, before striding forwards and taking his seat next to Sergeant Donovan.
"Thank you very much." Lestrade said, glancing down at the notes on the desk in front of him. "Following today's incident, involving a violent sexual assault on a ten year old boy in North Acton, officers at Scotland Yard feel that it is necessary to reassure the public, and remind everybody of the importance of taking due care with children's safety at this time."
"The nature of the assaults, as well as the highly recognisable injuries left by the attacker have led us to the conclusion that these recent assaults are the latest in a long series of sexual assaults against young boys, the first of which occurred twenty-two years ago, on the 5th of January 1989. We ask that -"
Lestrade froze, looking up as Sherlock strode forwards to stand in front of him, leaning forwards over the desk to talk close to the Detective Inspector's face.
"Sherlock!" Lestrade exclaimed, looking anxiously at the television crews, journalists, and photographers hungrily taking in the whole scene. "What -"
"I think I've remembered something." Sherlock interrupted, scratching at his back again. "Something important."
"What?" Lestrade said again, gaping. "Right. Give me a minute. I'll be right with you."
Sherlock nodded, scratching once more at whatever was itching him with a look of irritation, before walking back to stand beside John.
John gaped up at his friend, his eyebrows raised, awaiting an explanation. "Er... what was that all about?"
"You'll see." Sherlock replied. "Come on. We may as well go wait in his office."
Lestrade strode angrily into his office, followed closely by a seething Anderson and Donovan.
"What the hell was that about, Freak?" Donovan demanded furiously. "You can't just saunter up and interrupt a press conference!"
"Sherlock." Lestrade added, not giving the taller man any opportunity to respond. "What are you thinking?"
"Oh think about it!" Sherlock shot back, standing up and pacing the room. "The most terrifying crime for any serial offender is always the first. Always wondering whether they've made a mistake; whether they've given themselves away. Our guy realised immediately after his first attack that he'd taken a massive risk."
"What risk?" Donovan asked.
"That was the only time he spoke!" Sherlock explained. "He had a distinctive voice. Very strong cockney accent, rough, like there was something stuck in his throat. He never spoke to any of his victims after that, because he realised his mistake. All that time he'll be worrying that that first kid could identify him by that voice!"
"Well?" Anderson drawled, leaning against the closed door with his arms folded across his chest. "How does that explain you sabotaging a press conference?"
"It wasn't sabotaged!" Sherlock snapped. "It was bait. That whole press conference was a trap."
"Oh God." Lestrade's face had gone ashen. "Sherlock, what have you done?"
"I don't get it." John added, now thoroughly confused. "How was that a trap?"
"Think about it!" Sherlock shouted. "All these years it will have been nagging at the back of his mind. Did he make a mistake? And then today, he'll turn on his TV, and see me saying I've remembered something."
"Ok." John said slowly, trying to follow. "And how is that a trap?"
"Because for the bait I've shown him me working with the police." Sherlock explained, staring intently at John. "The bait, John. The bait in the trap. Something he won't be able to resist. For the bait, I've given him his first victim. I've given him me."
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