New Fic: A Man Does What He Must - Sherlock/Hawaii Five-O crossover
Title: A Man Does What He Must 1/4
Author: shao_fu
Rating: PG
Pairings: Steve/Danny, Sherlock/John, implied Kono/Jenna
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Some bad language, rather a lot of violence although not too graphic, some h/c.
Word count: 5200
Summary: A British Intelligence Officer is found murdered while on holiday in Honolulu, the most recent in a string of murders of intelligence officers of different nationalities. An international crime syndicate is suspected and a joint investigation is proposed by the British government and the Governor of Hawaii.
Notes: Takes place within the timeline of Season 1 of Hawaii Five-O and after The Great Game. Governor Jameson is still alive and Jenna is an unofficial member of the team. I am ignoring the season 2 developments regarding Jenna.
The title is from a quotation by Winston Churchill: “A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality.”
Many thanks to the lovely sharpiesgal for the beta and all the support while I laboured over this fic. She not only corrected my Britishisms and Americanisms but she kindly provided me with the idea and most of the text for Danny’s rant in reply to Sherlock, much improving on the original. Any remaining errors are all my own work.
Part One
“Absolutely not,” Sherlock snapped into his mobile and switched it off with a flourish as he entered the flat. John glanced up from reading the newspaper, took one look at Sherlock’s face and said,
“Mycroft?”
“Excellent deduction, how did you guess?” John ignored the sarcasm but answered the question,
“You get a certain look when you are being deliberately disobliging. I only ever see it when Mycroft calls you or, occasionally, when I ask you to do something necessary that you don’t want to do and so choose to describe it as dull.” Sherlock sighed and flung himself full length on the settee, still wearing his coat and scarf. Again, John ignored the little tantrum and got up to make tea.
“Doing one’s duty is usually dull,” Sherlock offered. “Doing it for Queen and country and brother Mycroft is even more boring.”
“National security again?” John poured boiling water into the teapot and left the tea to brew while he wandered back to talk to Sherlock. “He doesn’t use that lightly, Sherlock, no matter what you think. Maybe you should reconsider . . .”
“Good God, no!” Sherlock said emphatically. “If you only knew!” He shuddered melodramatically.
“Well, I don’t know,” John said placidly, “and, since the idea seems to horrify you, nothing else need be said. Tea?”
“Thank you.” John wandered off again and came back with two mugs, placed one in front of Sherlock and sat down to resume his reading. A few minutes ticked by in silence and then Sherlock said,
“Oh well, if you must know, there seems to be some kind of international serial killer on the prowl and Mycroft wants me - us - to help the Americans.” John shrugged.
“We’ve done that before; what’s so repugnant about this case?” Sherlock sat up and picked up his tea.
“I’m not against assisting the Americans per se,” he said condescendingly. “After all, they need all the help they can get, but I cannot possibly go to some god-awful, sun-drenched, over-commercialised tourist trap and work with a ‘special task force’.” John could hear the air quotes although Sherlock did not deign to make the gesture; he merely sipped his tea and looked sulky. John smiled behind his newspaper, wondering if it was the location or the idea of the task force which offended Sherlock most.
“Miami?” he queried hopefully. It was March, chilly and very grey and wet at the end of a horrible winter; the idea of a trip to somewhere sunny rather appealed to him.
“Worse,” Sherlock answered.
“Am I supposed to guess?”
“If you like,” Sherlock answered at his most ungracious. “It doesn’t matter; I am not going.”
“Sun-drenched, over-commercialised tourist trap,” John murmured, reviewing Sherlock’s clues. “Not Miami, so California maybe or the Gulf?” Sherlock sniffed and John mulled over various places until he suddenly gasped.
“Not Hawaii?” he asked, sounding far too eager to his own ears. “Sherlock, please tell me you did not turn down the chance of a trip to Hawaii in the middle of March?”
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him.
“John, you sound positively effusive and, yes, rather disappointed. You don’t really want to go to Hawaii, do you?” John gazed at him blankly, his eyes filled with visions of beaches, palm trees, surfers and cocktails with umbrellas in them.
“Oh, yes,” he breathed longingly and, when Sherlock made a rather rude noise, snapped back to reality. “But it’s entirely up to you and, since you seem quite adamant about not wishing to oblige Mycroft, there is nothing more to say, is there?” Sherlock was silent for a long time. John cleared away the mugs, washed them up and sat down to watch television. He flicked aimlessly through the channels, settling for a dull political discussion programme as background noise and let his imagination run riot. It was difficult for him to imagine Sherlock on a beach or even dressed casually for a few days in the sun, (Sherlock in shorts and a T-shirt? His mind boggled!), but sunshine and warm weather, long tropical nights, a luxurious hotel room, all expenses paid - John could very easily see himself in such a situation. He sighed without realising he had done so and Sherlock peered at him. After a pause, he said,
“Of course, if it should be an interesting case, you know, something for me to get my teeth into, then, of course, it would be worth my consideration.” Nothing more was said by either of them but Sherlock allowed Mycroft to send him more details of the case, Moriarty’s name came up and, a week later, they were flying first class to Honolulu, Mycroft smoothing the way as always.
******
Things had been pretty quiet at 5-0 for a while. Kono and Steve had actually managed to catch some waves and, to his intense delight, Danny had been able to do Gracie’s school run three days in a row. Every scrap of paperwork was done and filed, and even Chin seemed relaxed. Steve was planning a barbecue at his house on Saturday night, to which they were all invited including Jenna Kaye, who was considered part of the team now, however unofficial. There would be steak and beer and maybe a bonfire. Steve had even invited Rachel and Stan so that Gracie could be there for a little while; Danny was hoping they wouldn’t stay too long. He was also fervently hoping they wouldn’t catch a case because he had reached the tipping point and now he was only waiting for the opportunity to speak his mind to Steve. Saturday evening offered a golden opportunity, but somehow, despite trying not to think it, he knew his was a forlorn hope.
~
Wednesday afternoon, Danny dropped Gracie home from school and headed back to HQ, his mind running over the speech he had prepared for Saturday. It had two endings and, while he was word perfect in one, the other needed work in case Steve reacted differently to how Danny anticipated. He only had one chance, he thought, and he wasn’t going to mess it up. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he sought the appropriate bon mot that would convince Steve he was serious. As he turned into the parking lot, his phone rang and McGarrett’s picture appeared on the screen.
“Hey, Steve,” he answered.
“Where are you? What’s your ETA?”
“What, no hello? No how are you?” Danny could almost hear Steve’s teeth grinding.
“Get back here as fast as you can,” he snapped and hung up. Oh, oh, Danny thought as he made his way to the office. There was a crowd of people there, standing around the computer table: the rest of the team including Jenna, the Governor, a couple of Army officers, and two strangers. Danny glanced at them briefly, but introductions were not forthcoming. Steve acknowledged his presence with a quick nod and went back to his conversation with the Governor. Danny sidled around next to Chin and murmured,
“Want to fill me in?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Chin muttered back. “Kono and I just got here a couple of minutes ago. I think - wait, the Governor’s leaving.”
Steve walked her out, accompanied by the two officers and Danny stared at their backs. The uniforms were vaguely familiar but still foreign, definitely European, British maybe? Steve turned back and started snapping orders.
“Kono, Jenna, I want everything you can find on James Moriarty. Chin, see if Kamekona has heard anything. Danny. . .,” Danny held up a hand.
“Aren’t we forgetting something, Steven?” he asked, his gaze travelling to the two strangers. One was a little taller than him, fairly ordinary looking, pleasant-faced, pretty non-descript actually, but the other: the other was tall, as tall as Steve but looked taller because he was so lean and the black suit made him seem even more so. He had a pale, arresting face and startlingly odd-coloured eyes, cold and intense. Steve made his constipated face at the interruption and waved a hand between them.
“This is Dr. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes; they’ve just arrived from the UK - Detective Danny Williams, the other member of my team.” The smaller man smiled in a friendly fashion and stuck out his hand. Danny shook it automatically and turned to his companion, expecting the same greeting. Holmes completely ignored him.
“Pleased to meet you, too,” Danny muttered, scowling at the stranger, who remained oblivious.
“Four murders,” Holmes said to no-one in particular, “London, Mumbai, Shanghai and now Honolulu. Why these places?”
“We have a murder?” Danny asked, looking at Steve and then Chin.
“Do try and keep up,” Holmes snapped. “Four murders on four continents, apparently unconnected and yet . . .” His voice trailed off and he bent his head, steepling his fingers against his chin as he stared at the computer table.
“Steven, a word,” Danny said and hustled Steve into his office.
“We don’t have time for . . .”, Steve started and Danny shook a warning finger at him.
“We have time for you to tell me what is going on. Who has been murdered, why is the Governor involved and who is the creepy Brit?”
“You think he’s creepy?” Steve asked with his usual frustrating knack of fastening on to the least important of Danny’s questions.
“You don’t?” Steve shrugged.
“No, I don’t. Okay, you missed the Governor’s visit, so I’ll . . .” Danny held up a hand yet again.
“Get everyone in here,” he said, “ ‘cos somehow I think you sent Kono and Jenna off to research a suspected serial killer without actually clueing them in either.” Steve opened his mouth, saw Danny’s expression, and snapped it shut with a pronounced click. He opened his office door and shouted for the others, glancing at Holmes and Watson as he waited for his team. Holmes hadn’t moved a muscle but Watson glanced up and gave a brief wave, as if he had guessed what was going on. Then he went back to waiting passively until Holmes decided to say or do anything.
“Now that,” Steve said to Danny with a smirk, “is an ideal partner.”
“How d’ya mean?”
“Look at him, supportive, patient and, best of all . . .”
“Are you saying I’m not supportive?” Danny interrupted, his voice rising. “Don’t I always have your back? Or are you accusing me of impatience? Because let me tell you, partner, I have endless patience. My patience knows no bounds although it is sorely tried by . . .”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Steve interrupted in turn. Danny flung up his hands.
“You’re right, I didn’t let you finish. Excuse me; please finish your exposition on the ideal partner.” Danny leaned against Steve’s desk and folded his arms, schooling his features into an exaggerated look of patience. Steve smirked, earning himself an eye roll.
“I was going to say, supportive, patient and, best of all, quiet.” It was Danny’s turn to snap his mouth shut. He could feel his ears reddening as he struggled not to yell at Steve. Fortunately, Chin and Kono arrived and Steve turned back to his desk.
“Jenna’s tracking down the info on Moriarty,” Kono reported. “Since she was here when the Governor arrived, I guess she already knows what this is all about.” Danny gave Steve a triumphant, ‘see, I told you so’ look, which Steve pointedly ignored.
“Okay, listen up,” he said. “The body of a British army captain was discovered in his hotel room early this morning. He was on leave, not here in any official capacity, and HPD took the case. They were investigating an apparent armed robbery gone bad until they ran the captain’s ID to find his next of kin. All sorts of flags were raised by the search and, next thing, Governor Jameson is talking to someone from the British government. Seems someone has been targeting Intelligence operatives in various countries and they are convinced it’s the work of an international crime syndicate headed by a James Moriarty. They don’t have enough evidence to pin the murders on him but he’s their prime suspect. The Governor wants us to give this case top priority.”
“And who are those two?” Danny asked, nodding through the window at Holmes and Watson.
“Apparently Holmes is an expert on Moriarty and the British government persuaded him to come here to assist.”
“They had to persuade him? Doesn’t he work for them?”
“Nope, he’s an independent consultant of some sort and, from what I was told, we’re damned lucky he agreed to come here.” Danny snorted derisively.
“What about the other guy? Dr. Watson?” he asked.
“He’s Holmes’ assistant, colleague, whatever you want to call him. He’s a medical doctor, ex-military I understand; seems he has, and I quote, a ‘calming’ influence on Mr. Holmes.” Danny curled his lip.
“Why does Holmes need a calming influence? He’s almost comatose; he hasn’t moved an inch since I got here.” The four of them all turned to stare somewhat expectantly at Holmes through the window. After a minute or so, Kono said,
“You’re right, Danny, he hasn’t so much as blinked. What is he doing?”
“Let’s go ask,” Danny said and they all trooped back to the table. Holmes ignored them and Watson shot them a warning look, shaking his head fractionally when Steve opened his mouth. Steve subsided but Danny was made of sterner stuff.
“So, Mr. Holmes,” he said, his voice sounding abnormally loud, “care to share?” Watson winced but Holmes did not react. It was absurd, Danny thought, the man was a drama queen and probably a charlatan, but he folded his arms and stared at the computer table along with everyone else. A map of the world was displayed, the four cities Holmes had mentioned highlighted for ease of reference, but there was nothing inspiring or worthy of such intent study that any of 5-0 could discern. Danny was just considering sneaking off for a cup of coffee when Holmes suddenly started speaking, the words spilling out of his mouth in such a torrent that everyone except Watson had difficulty following him.
“Mumbai: October 2009, Ren Tian Ri, obviously an alias by the way, is found stabbed to death in an alley in Mumbai. The Indian police went with the obvious armed robbery gone awry scenario, the same one that the Honolulu police department also tried to follow. Why do policemen have such pedestrian minds? He was supposedly a minor figure at the embassy but was a hundred per cent Guóānbù. Why do covert operatives always go the route of the minor embassy official, John? So unimaginative! March 2010, Alex James, another minor embassy official, American this time, is struck by a car whilst walking around Piccadilly. Hit and run, DOA, CIA, naturally. July 2010 and Mahavir Kumar - God, what is it with the aliases! - succumbs to a heart attack while entertaining a prostitute in Shanghai. Hushed up because of the circumstances; probably staged to begin with but definitely not natural causes. He was RAW, rumoured to be ascending the ladder rather quickly, being groomed for a top slot, apparently. And now, Captain Harry Greenstreet, identified as a JARIC officer - all these acronyms, John, it’s so wearying - and obviously not killed in a mugging in his hotel room. Moriarty is trying to set the major powers at each others’ throats. China and India, Britain and America. It’s clever, not that subtle, but it’s only the tip of the iceberg. These men were all national intelligence operatives for their respective nations, all pretty small fry, actually, except for the Indian. Two were field ops, the other two analysts, but it’s not so much what they did but the fact that they were part of the Intelligence community. Moriarty is succumbing to hubris, trying to prove he is more intelligent than they are. Of course, he is but he does so need the applause.”
Danny noticed Watson’s lips twitch, as if he was suppressing a smile, and suppressed one of his own. So Steve’s ideal partner actually thought that his partner was full of it, too, did he? Nice to know. Holmes’ voice called his name and he had to rapidly regroup his thoughts. One moment of inattention and that was when wonder boy had to ask him a question.
“I’m sorry, what?” he said. Holmes sneered; he actually sneered at him like some arch villain in a bad Victorian melodrama.
“Do pay attention,” he said to Danny. “I really have much better things to do than repeat myself. I asked if you would insert the flash drive into the outlet, since you are standing next to it, but Agent Kaye has already performed that simple task.” Danny flushed angrily and glanced at Jenna, who had joined them without him noticing. “These are my notes - “ Watson coughed delicately - “our notes,” Holmes corrected smoothly, “on Moriarty. Facts, figures and my deductions. Please study them diligently as they will be of great benefit to you in this case. If agent Kaye finds anything new, I would be very interested.” His tone inferred he doubted Jenna would turn up anything he hadn’t already found.
“May I take copies for each of us, Mr. Holmes?” Jenna asked politely. Holmes smiled slightly, just a quirk of the lips, and Danny blinked at the difference. The severe expression disappeared and he looked almost human.
“Sherlock, please,” Holmes said. “I know how much you Americans like informality. By all means, copies are acceptable, but the contents of that flash drive should be considered top secret. Please treat them as such.” Jenna nodded and tapped a few keys, then murmured an excuse and went back to her desk. Sherlock glanced at John.
“What time is it?” he asked, suddenly sounding weary.
“It’s 5 p.m. local time, 4 a.m. in London. You need to get some sleep; you’ve been on the go for over 40 hours.”
“So have you, John.”
“Yes, but I slept on the plane. Come on, let’s find our hotel and grab a bite to eat and then get a few hours kip. You’ll be much fresher in the morning.” Sherlock turned to Steve.
“There are notes in the file on Moriarty’s known associates, aliases, that sort of thing. Perhaps you could start some local enquiries.” Chin brought up the file on the big screen and they all quickly scanned through it. One name leapt out at them: Wo Fat.
“I’ll drive you to your hotel,” Steve said, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“Certainly not, we have a car waiting,” Sherlock said, following the direction of his eyes. “Who is Wo Fat?” John gripped his forearm, tugging him gently away.
“Tomorrow, Sherlock, first thing, I promise but you are jet lagged and you need to rest. Commander McGarrett can start local enquiries without you.”
“Call me Steve,” Steve said, “you know how we like informality. We’ll put the word out and meet you here tomorrow, 8 a.m., okay?” John grinned at him, nodded and gently led Sherlock away, collecting their hand luggage as he went. Sherlock looked like he was sleepwalking, the manic energy completely drained away. Steve glanced around at his team, who were all watching the pair depart. Once they had gone, Jenna came back and took over the table again, bringing up two pages side by side: Sherlock’s website, The Science of Deduction, and John Watson’s blog.
“Here we go, boys and girls,” she said. “Read ‘em and weep!”
~
John ordered room service and persuaded Sherlock to eat a little, then left him to shower while he did the same. They both needed sleep but they decided to meet again in Sherlock’s room to discuss the case and try to adjust to local time. It was only 7 p.m. and John did not want Sherlock wide awake and anxious to proceed in the wee hours of the morning. This would not endear him to the 5-0 task force and John was already anxious about the working atmosphere. Agent Kaye seemed very pleasant, as did Officer Kelly, although John had not formed a definite opinion of either of them. Officer Kalakaua was a mystery as she had not spoken other than to say hello and Detective Williams was obviously antagonistic towards Sherlock. He would have to try and smooth some ruffled feathers tomorrow. Commander McGarrett seemed competent but remote. He reminded John a little of Sherlock, the way he focussed and with similar manic energy, but he gave an impression of a coiled spring, something explosive lurking beneath the surface, whereas Sherlock radiated calm detachment and hidden depths.
He shared his thoughts with Sherlock and listened in amazement as Sherlock related his deductions about the members of the team. He was used to the way Sherlock could sum up people with devastating accuracy but some of his comments had John wondering what would happen in the morning. He hoped he could prevent Sherlock from expounding his analysis; McGarrett, and Williams especially, would not be amused. By 8:30, John was dead on his feet and Sherlock in no better shape, so they called it a night. They had adjoining rooms and, after half an hour, John slipped back into Sherlock’s room to make sure he was not on his laptop or doing anything other than resting. He was pleased to find Sherlock was actually sleeping soundly, a rare occurrence when he was on a case. Gratefully, John retired and did not surface until six the next morning.
~
Back at 5-0 headquarters, the team had started enquiries, trying to discover if Moriarty, under any of his known aliases, had arrived in Honolulu recently. Jenna was working on finding as much information as possible on him but Sherlock’s notes were impressively comprehensive and she failed to discover anything new. Some of his deductions mystified her and she hoped to have a chance to ask him about them. The others also took some time to study the websites she had found on the two Brits. They all found John’s blog the more interesting reading, Sherlock’s website being informative but rather dry and hard going. Having read a few entries of the blog, Danny went into Steve’s office.
“Do you believe this stuff?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Watson makes his partner out to be some kind of heroic genius. He plays down his own part in the case reports but you can tell he keeps saving wonder boy’s ass.”
“You’re going with ‘wonder boy’?” Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow. Danny just snorted. “It’s pretty impressive,” Steve continued, “and obviously Watson has only written the details that can go public. There must have been a lot more going on than he says. I would love to hear the rest of it.”
“Really? Do me a favour, Steve; please do not ask that pompous, arrogant s.o.b. about the rest; at least, not while I’m around to hear him telling us how great he is. I honestly don’t think I could control myself.”
“You don’t like him?” Steve sounded surprised.
“I don’t like him,” Danny confirmed. “Watson seems okay but God knows why he puts up with that, that . . .” Danny struggled to find an appropriate term to summarise just how much he didn’t like Sherlock Holmes but failed to come up with anything stronger than “arrogant bastard!”.
“You’d better work with John, then,” was all Steve said. “I’ll look after Sherlock.” Danny took a breath and began to explain at length to Steve why working with Sherlock was such a bad idea.
Meanwhile, Kono, Chin and Jenna had gathered in Chin’s office, also to discuss Holmes and Watson.
“He’s obviously quite brilliant,” Jenna said admiringly. “His methods are strange but he seems to come to the correct conclusions.”
“He certainly has a unique approach,” Chin agreed. He glanced towards Steve’s office. “Somehow, I don’t think Danny agrees.” Kono laughed.
“You got that right, brah,” she said. “I have a funny feeling we’ll be seeing fireworks in the morning.” She stretched and giggled when her stomach rumbled loudly.
“We should go eat,” Jenna said, laughing. “Why don’t we go to Sam’s?”
“You two go ahead,” Chin said. “I’ll see if Steve and Danny want to join us. See you in ten.”
Jenna powered down her computer and she and Kono headed out while Chin wandered over and knocked on the door frame of Steve’s office. Danny was still in full rant mode, hands waving as he paced in small circles. Steve was leaning against his desk, looking bemused, and gratefully invited Chin inside.
“The girls have gone down to Sam’s,” he said, “and I’m heading that way myself. Are you going to come?”
“Sure,” Steve said quickly, “I’m starving.” Danny stopped in mid-rant as Steve headed for the door.
“We are not done,” he said, but followed Steve and Chin out of the office.
Steve drove Danny’s car as usual while Chin took his bike. Sam’s Kitchen was five minutes drive away and they soon joined Kono and Jenna. Danny hadn’t said anything during the drive but, once they were settled and had ordered their food, he addressed the team in general.
“Okay,” he said, “am I the only one here who thinks Sherlock Holmes is an arrogant, bad-mannered, drama queen? Please, someone, anyone, if I’m wrong, tell me how.”
Steve opened his mouth but Danny forestalled him.
“I should have said, anyone other than Steve, because he already thinks the sun shines out of his ass!”
“I do not,” Steve protested. “I merely said that you seemed to rub him the wrong way. He was perfectly okay with the rest of us.”
“He does come across as arrogant,” Chin said, “but I think it’s just that his mind works so fast that nobody can keep up. You have to admit he’s brilliant.”
“Oh, he’s smart, alright,” Danny admitted. “The jury is out on brilliant. All he does is throw out ideas which are way out there and expect us to accept he’s right. He has a lot of theories but where’s the evidence, huh? He’s got us all convinced of some huge international conspiracy to start world war three, based on the one known fact that four murders were committed all over the world and they were all intelligence officers. Now, I admit that’s too much of a coincidence but we still haven’t proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are linked. He, meanwhile - what’s his term - ‘deduces’ from that one fact that there is an evil plot to take over the world. Talk about delusions of grandeur!” Chin blinked in the face of this vitriol.
“You really don’t like him, do you?” he commented. “His methods might be a little out there but his track record is impressive. So what if he is arrogant; if he can help us catch Wo Fat in the process of tracking down this Moriarty guy, I say let him.”
Their food arrived at that moment and there was a period of silence while they all ate enough to assuage their hunger. Jenna finally took up the subject again.
“I’ve had more time than the rest of you to read Dr. Watson’s blog,” she said. “Right at the beginning, when he had just met Sherlock, they were working a crime scene and the forensics guy called Sherlock a psychopath. Sherlock immediately corrected him and said he was a high-functioning sociopath and I think it’s partially true, although Sherlock’s a little hard on himself. The way John writes it, it’s rather amusing; you should check it out. Sherlock isn’t interested in social interaction; all he wants to do is solve the mystery. As John writes it, he’s all about the work. I’m not convinced he’s a true sociopath, though.”
“What’s the difference?” Kono asked. “Obviously, there is one or there wouldn’t be two terms but I’m a bit hazy.”
“Actually, that’s a source of some debate,” Jenna replied. “I did a little bit of research because, like you, I wasn’t quite sure. Some psychologists think the terms interchangeable, others differentiate between the two but the terms are used to describe people with antisocial personality traits. They have a lot of similar traits like not caring about the consequences of their actions; ignoring other people’s rights, prepared to do anything to get their own way, etc., but the psychopath seems to be regarded as far more dangerous. I think my absolute favourite answer is that a psychopath thinks 2+2=5 rather than 2+2=4 and a sociopath knows 2+2=4, but hates to admit it.” That brought a general chuckle but Danny was like a dog with a bone.
“Well, this is just great, isn’t it? We have a self-professed sociopath helping us track down a psychopathic serial killer - did you see what I just did there, huh? - and maybe, potentially, if the sociopath is to be believed, we also have an international conspiracy of gigantic proportions, which we are now busting our chops to break. It seems to me that Sherlock Holmes isn’t the only nut job round here!”
“The information he provided is excellent, though,” Kono chimed in. “I don’t know what access he has to resources but it’s impressive, to say the least.” Danny threw up his hands.
“Oh God, you are all fully paid up members of the Sherlock Holmes fan club. I might as well give up.”
“Okay,” Steve said, bringing the debate to a close before Danny got back into full flow again. “Let’s finish up here and get back to work. Hopefully, there’ll be a few answers when we get back. And we all need to get some sleep.”
Part 2
Comments are always welcome!
Author: shao_fu
Rating: PG
Pairings: Steve/Danny, Sherlock/John, implied Kono/Jenna
Disclaimer: Don't own them, no harm intended, no profit made etc.
Warnings: Some bad language, rather a lot of violence although not too graphic, some h/c.
Word count: 5200
Summary: A British Intelligence Officer is found murdered while on holiday in Honolulu, the most recent in a string of murders of intelligence officers of different nationalities. An international crime syndicate is suspected and a joint investigation is proposed by the British government and the Governor of Hawaii.
Notes: Takes place within the timeline of Season 1 of Hawaii Five-O and after The Great Game. Governor Jameson is still alive and Jenna is an unofficial member of the team. I am ignoring the season 2 developments regarding Jenna.
The title is from a quotation by Winston Churchill: “A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality.”
Many thanks to the lovely sharpiesgal for the beta and all the support while I laboured over this fic. She not only corrected my Britishisms and Americanisms but she kindly provided me with the idea and most of the text for Danny’s rant in reply to Sherlock, much improving on the original. Any remaining errors are all my own work.
Part One
“Absolutely not,” Sherlock snapped into his mobile and switched it off with a flourish as he entered the flat. John glanced up from reading the newspaper, took one look at Sherlock’s face and said,
“Mycroft?”
“Excellent deduction, how did you guess?” John ignored the sarcasm but answered the question,
“You get a certain look when you are being deliberately disobliging. I only ever see it when Mycroft calls you or, occasionally, when I ask you to do something necessary that you don’t want to do and so choose to describe it as dull.” Sherlock sighed and flung himself full length on the settee, still wearing his coat and scarf. Again, John ignored the little tantrum and got up to make tea.
“Doing one’s duty is usually dull,” Sherlock offered. “Doing it for Queen and country and brother Mycroft is even more boring.”
“National security again?” John poured boiling water into the teapot and left the tea to brew while he wandered back to talk to Sherlock. “He doesn’t use that lightly, Sherlock, no matter what you think. Maybe you should reconsider . . .”
“Good God, no!” Sherlock said emphatically. “If you only knew!” He shuddered melodramatically.
“Well, I don’t know,” John said placidly, “and, since the idea seems to horrify you, nothing else need be said. Tea?”
“Thank you.” John wandered off again and came back with two mugs, placed one in front of Sherlock and sat down to resume his reading. A few minutes ticked by in silence and then Sherlock said,
“Oh well, if you must know, there seems to be some kind of international serial killer on the prowl and Mycroft wants me - us - to help the Americans.” John shrugged.
“We’ve done that before; what’s so repugnant about this case?” Sherlock sat up and picked up his tea.
“I’m not against assisting the Americans per se,” he said condescendingly. “After all, they need all the help they can get, but I cannot possibly go to some god-awful, sun-drenched, over-commercialised tourist trap and work with a ‘special task force’.” John could hear the air quotes although Sherlock did not deign to make the gesture; he merely sipped his tea and looked sulky. John smiled behind his newspaper, wondering if it was the location or the idea of the task force which offended Sherlock most.
“Miami?” he queried hopefully. It was March, chilly and very grey and wet at the end of a horrible winter; the idea of a trip to somewhere sunny rather appealed to him.
“Worse,” Sherlock answered.
“Am I supposed to guess?”
“If you like,” Sherlock answered at his most ungracious. “It doesn’t matter; I am not going.”
“Sun-drenched, over-commercialised tourist trap,” John murmured, reviewing Sherlock’s clues. “Not Miami, so California maybe or the Gulf?” Sherlock sniffed and John mulled over various places until he suddenly gasped.
“Not Hawaii?” he asked, sounding far too eager to his own ears. “Sherlock, please tell me you did not turn down the chance of a trip to Hawaii in the middle of March?”
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him.
“John, you sound positively effusive and, yes, rather disappointed. You don’t really want to go to Hawaii, do you?” John gazed at him blankly, his eyes filled with visions of beaches, palm trees, surfers and cocktails with umbrellas in them.
“Oh, yes,” he breathed longingly and, when Sherlock made a rather rude noise, snapped back to reality. “But it’s entirely up to you and, since you seem quite adamant about not wishing to oblige Mycroft, there is nothing more to say, is there?” Sherlock was silent for a long time. John cleared away the mugs, washed them up and sat down to watch television. He flicked aimlessly through the channels, settling for a dull political discussion programme as background noise and let his imagination run riot. It was difficult for him to imagine Sherlock on a beach or even dressed casually for a few days in the sun, (Sherlock in shorts and a T-shirt? His mind boggled!), but sunshine and warm weather, long tropical nights, a luxurious hotel room, all expenses paid - John could very easily see himself in such a situation. He sighed without realising he had done so and Sherlock peered at him. After a pause, he said,
“Of course, if it should be an interesting case, you know, something for me to get my teeth into, then, of course, it would be worth my consideration.” Nothing more was said by either of them but Sherlock allowed Mycroft to send him more details of the case, Moriarty’s name came up and, a week later, they were flying first class to Honolulu, Mycroft smoothing the way as always.
******
Things had been pretty quiet at 5-0 for a while. Kono and Steve had actually managed to catch some waves and, to his intense delight, Danny had been able to do Gracie’s school run three days in a row. Every scrap of paperwork was done and filed, and even Chin seemed relaxed. Steve was planning a barbecue at his house on Saturday night, to which they were all invited including Jenna Kaye, who was considered part of the team now, however unofficial. There would be steak and beer and maybe a bonfire. Steve had even invited Rachel and Stan so that Gracie could be there for a little while; Danny was hoping they wouldn’t stay too long. He was also fervently hoping they wouldn’t catch a case because he had reached the tipping point and now he was only waiting for the opportunity to speak his mind to Steve. Saturday evening offered a golden opportunity, but somehow, despite trying not to think it, he knew his was a forlorn hope.
~
Wednesday afternoon, Danny dropped Gracie home from school and headed back to HQ, his mind running over the speech he had prepared for Saturday. It had two endings and, while he was word perfect in one, the other needed work in case Steve reacted differently to how Danny anticipated. He only had one chance, he thought, and he wasn’t going to mess it up. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he sought the appropriate bon mot that would convince Steve he was serious. As he turned into the parking lot, his phone rang and McGarrett’s picture appeared on the screen.
“Hey, Steve,” he answered.
“Where are you? What’s your ETA?”
“What, no hello? No how are you?” Danny could almost hear Steve’s teeth grinding.
“Get back here as fast as you can,” he snapped and hung up. Oh, oh, Danny thought as he made his way to the office. There was a crowd of people there, standing around the computer table: the rest of the team including Jenna, the Governor, a couple of Army officers, and two strangers. Danny glanced at them briefly, but introductions were not forthcoming. Steve acknowledged his presence with a quick nod and went back to his conversation with the Governor. Danny sidled around next to Chin and murmured,
“Want to fill me in?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Chin muttered back. “Kono and I just got here a couple of minutes ago. I think - wait, the Governor’s leaving.”
Steve walked her out, accompanied by the two officers and Danny stared at their backs. The uniforms were vaguely familiar but still foreign, definitely European, British maybe? Steve turned back and started snapping orders.
“Kono, Jenna, I want everything you can find on James Moriarty. Chin, see if Kamekona has heard anything. Danny. . .,” Danny held up a hand.
“Aren’t we forgetting something, Steven?” he asked, his gaze travelling to the two strangers. One was a little taller than him, fairly ordinary looking, pleasant-faced, pretty non-descript actually, but the other: the other was tall, as tall as Steve but looked taller because he was so lean and the black suit made him seem even more so. He had a pale, arresting face and startlingly odd-coloured eyes, cold and intense. Steve made his constipated face at the interruption and waved a hand between them.
“This is Dr. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes; they’ve just arrived from the UK - Detective Danny Williams, the other member of my team.” The smaller man smiled in a friendly fashion and stuck out his hand. Danny shook it automatically and turned to his companion, expecting the same greeting. Holmes completely ignored him.
“Pleased to meet you, too,” Danny muttered, scowling at the stranger, who remained oblivious.
“Four murders,” Holmes said to no-one in particular, “London, Mumbai, Shanghai and now Honolulu. Why these places?”
“We have a murder?” Danny asked, looking at Steve and then Chin.
“Do try and keep up,” Holmes snapped. “Four murders on four continents, apparently unconnected and yet . . .” His voice trailed off and he bent his head, steepling his fingers against his chin as he stared at the computer table.
“Steven, a word,” Danny said and hustled Steve into his office.
“We don’t have time for . . .”, Steve started and Danny shook a warning finger at him.
“We have time for you to tell me what is going on. Who has been murdered, why is the Governor involved and who is the creepy Brit?”
“You think he’s creepy?” Steve asked with his usual frustrating knack of fastening on to the least important of Danny’s questions.
“You don’t?” Steve shrugged.
“No, I don’t. Okay, you missed the Governor’s visit, so I’ll . . .” Danny held up a hand yet again.
“Get everyone in here,” he said, “ ‘cos somehow I think you sent Kono and Jenna off to research a suspected serial killer without actually clueing them in either.” Steve opened his mouth, saw Danny’s expression, and snapped it shut with a pronounced click. He opened his office door and shouted for the others, glancing at Holmes and Watson as he waited for his team. Holmes hadn’t moved a muscle but Watson glanced up and gave a brief wave, as if he had guessed what was going on. Then he went back to waiting passively until Holmes decided to say or do anything.
“Now that,” Steve said to Danny with a smirk, “is an ideal partner.”
“How d’ya mean?”
“Look at him, supportive, patient and, best of all . . .”
“Are you saying I’m not supportive?” Danny interrupted, his voice rising. “Don’t I always have your back? Or are you accusing me of impatience? Because let me tell you, partner, I have endless patience. My patience knows no bounds although it is sorely tried by . . .”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Steve interrupted in turn. Danny flung up his hands.
“You’re right, I didn’t let you finish. Excuse me; please finish your exposition on the ideal partner.” Danny leaned against Steve’s desk and folded his arms, schooling his features into an exaggerated look of patience. Steve smirked, earning himself an eye roll.
“I was going to say, supportive, patient and, best of all, quiet.” It was Danny’s turn to snap his mouth shut. He could feel his ears reddening as he struggled not to yell at Steve. Fortunately, Chin and Kono arrived and Steve turned back to his desk.
“Jenna’s tracking down the info on Moriarty,” Kono reported. “Since she was here when the Governor arrived, I guess she already knows what this is all about.” Danny gave Steve a triumphant, ‘see, I told you so’ look, which Steve pointedly ignored.
“Okay, listen up,” he said. “The body of a British army captain was discovered in his hotel room early this morning. He was on leave, not here in any official capacity, and HPD took the case. They were investigating an apparent armed robbery gone bad until they ran the captain’s ID to find his next of kin. All sorts of flags were raised by the search and, next thing, Governor Jameson is talking to someone from the British government. Seems someone has been targeting Intelligence operatives in various countries and they are convinced it’s the work of an international crime syndicate headed by a James Moriarty. They don’t have enough evidence to pin the murders on him but he’s their prime suspect. The Governor wants us to give this case top priority.”
“And who are those two?” Danny asked, nodding through the window at Holmes and Watson.
“Apparently Holmes is an expert on Moriarty and the British government persuaded him to come here to assist.”
“They had to persuade him? Doesn’t he work for them?”
“Nope, he’s an independent consultant of some sort and, from what I was told, we’re damned lucky he agreed to come here.” Danny snorted derisively.
“What about the other guy? Dr. Watson?” he asked.
“He’s Holmes’ assistant, colleague, whatever you want to call him. He’s a medical doctor, ex-military I understand; seems he has, and I quote, a ‘calming’ influence on Mr. Holmes.” Danny curled his lip.
“Why does Holmes need a calming influence? He’s almost comatose; he hasn’t moved an inch since I got here.” The four of them all turned to stare somewhat expectantly at Holmes through the window. After a minute or so, Kono said,
“You’re right, Danny, he hasn’t so much as blinked. What is he doing?”
“Let’s go ask,” Danny said and they all trooped back to the table. Holmes ignored them and Watson shot them a warning look, shaking his head fractionally when Steve opened his mouth. Steve subsided but Danny was made of sterner stuff.
“So, Mr. Holmes,” he said, his voice sounding abnormally loud, “care to share?” Watson winced but Holmes did not react. It was absurd, Danny thought, the man was a drama queen and probably a charlatan, but he folded his arms and stared at the computer table along with everyone else. A map of the world was displayed, the four cities Holmes had mentioned highlighted for ease of reference, but there was nothing inspiring or worthy of such intent study that any of 5-0 could discern. Danny was just considering sneaking off for a cup of coffee when Holmes suddenly started speaking, the words spilling out of his mouth in such a torrent that everyone except Watson had difficulty following him.
“Mumbai: October 2009, Ren Tian Ri, obviously an alias by the way, is found stabbed to death in an alley in Mumbai. The Indian police went with the obvious armed robbery gone awry scenario, the same one that the Honolulu police department also tried to follow. Why do policemen have such pedestrian minds? He was supposedly a minor figure at the embassy but was a hundred per cent Guóānbù. Why do covert operatives always go the route of the minor embassy official, John? So unimaginative! March 2010, Alex James, another minor embassy official, American this time, is struck by a car whilst walking around Piccadilly. Hit and run, DOA, CIA, naturally. July 2010 and Mahavir Kumar - God, what is it with the aliases! - succumbs to a heart attack while entertaining a prostitute in Shanghai. Hushed up because of the circumstances; probably staged to begin with but definitely not natural causes. He was RAW, rumoured to be ascending the ladder rather quickly, being groomed for a top slot, apparently. And now, Captain Harry Greenstreet, identified as a JARIC officer - all these acronyms, John, it’s so wearying - and obviously not killed in a mugging in his hotel room. Moriarty is trying to set the major powers at each others’ throats. China and India, Britain and America. It’s clever, not that subtle, but it’s only the tip of the iceberg. These men were all national intelligence operatives for their respective nations, all pretty small fry, actually, except for the Indian. Two were field ops, the other two analysts, but it’s not so much what they did but the fact that they were part of the Intelligence community. Moriarty is succumbing to hubris, trying to prove he is more intelligent than they are. Of course, he is but he does so need the applause.”
Danny noticed Watson’s lips twitch, as if he was suppressing a smile, and suppressed one of his own. So Steve’s ideal partner actually thought that his partner was full of it, too, did he? Nice to know. Holmes’ voice called his name and he had to rapidly regroup his thoughts. One moment of inattention and that was when wonder boy had to ask him a question.
“I’m sorry, what?” he said. Holmes sneered; he actually sneered at him like some arch villain in a bad Victorian melodrama.
“Do pay attention,” he said to Danny. “I really have much better things to do than repeat myself. I asked if you would insert the flash drive into the outlet, since you are standing next to it, but Agent Kaye has already performed that simple task.” Danny flushed angrily and glanced at Jenna, who had joined them without him noticing. “These are my notes - “ Watson coughed delicately - “our notes,” Holmes corrected smoothly, “on Moriarty. Facts, figures and my deductions. Please study them diligently as they will be of great benefit to you in this case. If agent Kaye finds anything new, I would be very interested.” His tone inferred he doubted Jenna would turn up anything he hadn’t already found.
“May I take copies for each of us, Mr. Holmes?” Jenna asked politely. Holmes smiled slightly, just a quirk of the lips, and Danny blinked at the difference. The severe expression disappeared and he looked almost human.
“Sherlock, please,” Holmes said. “I know how much you Americans like informality. By all means, copies are acceptable, but the contents of that flash drive should be considered top secret. Please treat them as such.” Jenna nodded and tapped a few keys, then murmured an excuse and went back to her desk. Sherlock glanced at John.
“What time is it?” he asked, suddenly sounding weary.
“It’s 5 p.m. local time, 4 a.m. in London. You need to get some sleep; you’ve been on the go for over 40 hours.”
“So have you, John.”
“Yes, but I slept on the plane. Come on, let’s find our hotel and grab a bite to eat and then get a few hours kip. You’ll be much fresher in the morning.” Sherlock turned to Steve.
“There are notes in the file on Moriarty’s known associates, aliases, that sort of thing. Perhaps you could start some local enquiries.” Chin brought up the file on the big screen and they all quickly scanned through it. One name leapt out at them: Wo Fat.
“I’ll drive you to your hotel,” Steve said, his eyes never leaving the screen.
“Certainly not, we have a car waiting,” Sherlock said, following the direction of his eyes. “Who is Wo Fat?” John gripped his forearm, tugging him gently away.
“Tomorrow, Sherlock, first thing, I promise but you are jet lagged and you need to rest. Commander McGarrett can start local enquiries without you.”
“Call me Steve,” Steve said, “you know how we like informality. We’ll put the word out and meet you here tomorrow, 8 a.m., okay?” John grinned at him, nodded and gently led Sherlock away, collecting their hand luggage as he went. Sherlock looked like he was sleepwalking, the manic energy completely drained away. Steve glanced around at his team, who were all watching the pair depart. Once they had gone, Jenna came back and took over the table again, bringing up two pages side by side: Sherlock’s website, The Science of Deduction, and John Watson’s blog.
“Here we go, boys and girls,” she said. “Read ‘em and weep!”
~
John ordered room service and persuaded Sherlock to eat a little, then left him to shower while he did the same. They both needed sleep but they decided to meet again in Sherlock’s room to discuss the case and try to adjust to local time. It was only 7 p.m. and John did not want Sherlock wide awake and anxious to proceed in the wee hours of the morning. This would not endear him to the 5-0 task force and John was already anxious about the working atmosphere. Agent Kaye seemed very pleasant, as did Officer Kelly, although John had not formed a definite opinion of either of them. Officer Kalakaua was a mystery as she had not spoken other than to say hello and Detective Williams was obviously antagonistic towards Sherlock. He would have to try and smooth some ruffled feathers tomorrow. Commander McGarrett seemed competent but remote. He reminded John a little of Sherlock, the way he focussed and with similar manic energy, but he gave an impression of a coiled spring, something explosive lurking beneath the surface, whereas Sherlock radiated calm detachment and hidden depths.
He shared his thoughts with Sherlock and listened in amazement as Sherlock related his deductions about the members of the team. He was used to the way Sherlock could sum up people with devastating accuracy but some of his comments had John wondering what would happen in the morning. He hoped he could prevent Sherlock from expounding his analysis; McGarrett, and Williams especially, would not be amused. By 8:30, John was dead on his feet and Sherlock in no better shape, so they called it a night. They had adjoining rooms and, after half an hour, John slipped back into Sherlock’s room to make sure he was not on his laptop or doing anything other than resting. He was pleased to find Sherlock was actually sleeping soundly, a rare occurrence when he was on a case. Gratefully, John retired and did not surface until six the next morning.
~
Back at 5-0 headquarters, the team had started enquiries, trying to discover if Moriarty, under any of his known aliases, had arrived in Honolulu recently. Jenna was working on finding as much information as possible on him but Sherlock’s notes were impressively comprehensive and she failed to discover anything new. Some of his deductions mystified her and she hoped to have a chance to ask him about them. The others also took some time to study the websites she had found on the two Brits. They all found John’s blog the more interesting reading, Sherlock’s website being informative but rather dry and hard going. Having read a few entries of the blog, Danny went into Steve’s office.
“Do you believe this stuff?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “Watson makes his partner out to be some kind of heroic genius. He plays down his own part in the case reports but you can tell he keeps saving wonder boy’s ass.”
“You’re going with ‘wonder boy’?” Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow. Danny just snorted. “It’s pretty impressive,” Steve continued, “and obviously Watson has only written the details that can go public. There must have been a lot more going on than he says. I would love to hear the rest of it.”
“Really? Do me a favour, Steve; please do not ask that pompous, arrogant s.o.b. about the rest; at least, not while I’m around to hear him telling us how great he is. I honestly don’t think I could control myself.”
“You don’t like him?” Steve sounded surprised.
“I don’t like him,” Danny confirmed. “Watson seems okay but God knows why he puts up with that, that . . .” Danny struggled to find an appropriate term to summarise just how much he didn’t like Sherlock Holmes but failed to come up with anything stronger than “arrogant bastard!”.
“You’d better work with John, then,” was all Steve said. “I’ll look after Sherlock.” Danny took a breath and began to explain at length to Steve why working with Sherlock was such a bad idea.
Meanwhile, Kono, Chin and Jenna had gathered in Chin’s office, also to discuss Holmes and Watson.
“He’s obviously quite brilliant,” Jenna said admiringly. “His methods are strange but he seems to come to the correct conclusions.”
“He certainly has a unique approach,” Chin agreed. He glanced towards Steve’s office. “Somehow, I don’t think Danny agrees.” Kono laughed.
“You got that right, brah,” she said. “I have a funny feeling we’ll be seeing fireworks in the morning.” She stretched and giggled when her stomach rumbled loudly.
“We should go eat,” Jenna said, laughing. “Why don’t we go to Sam’s?”
“You two go ahead,” Chin said. “I’ll see if Steve and Danny want to join us. See you in ten.”
Jenna powered down her computer and she and Kono headed out while Chin wandered over and knocked on the door frame of Steve’s office. Danny was still in full rant mode, hands waving as he paced in small circles. Steve was leaning against his desk, looking bemused, and gratefully invited Chin inside.
“The girls have gone down to Sam’s,” he said, “and I’m heading that way myself. Are you going to come?”
“Sure,” Steve said quickly, “I’m starving.” Danny stopped in mid-rant as Steve headed for the door.
“We are not done,” he said, but followed Steve and Chin out of the office.
Steve drove Danny’s car as usual while Chin took his bike. Sam’s Kitchen was five minutes drive away and they soon joined Kono and Jenna. Danny hadn’t said anything during the drive but, once they were settled and had ordered their food, he addressed the team in general.
“Okay,” he said, “am I the only one here who thinks Sherlock Holmes is an arrogant, bad-mannered, drama queen? Please, someone, anyone, if I’m wrong, tell me how.”
Steve opened his mouth but Danny forestalled him.
“I should have said, anyone other than Steve, because he already thinks the sun shines out of his ass!”
“I do not,” Steve protested. “I merely said that you seemed to rub him the wrong way. He was perfectly okay with the rest of us.”
“He does come across as arrogant,” Chin said, “but I think it’s just that his mind works so fast that nobody can keep up. You have to admit he’s brilliant.”
“Oh, he’s smart, alright,” Danny admitted. “The jury is out on brilliant. All he does is throw out ideas which are way out there and expect us to accept he’s right. He has a lot of theories but where’s the evidence, huh? He’s got us all convinced of some huge international conspiracy to start world war three, based on the one known fact that four murders were committed all over the world and they were all intelligence officers. Now, I admit that’s too much of a coincidence but we still haven’t proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are linked. He, meanwhile - what’s his term - ‘deduces’ from that one fact that there is an evil plot to take over the world. Talk about delusions of grandeur!” Chin blinked in the face of this vitriol.
“You really don’t like him, do you?” he commented. “His methods might be a little out there but his track record is impressive. So what if he is arrogant; if he can help us catch Wo Fat in the process of tracking down this Moriarty guy, I say let him.”
Their food arrived at that moment and there was a period of silence while they all ate enough to assuage their hunger. Jenna finally took up the subject again.
“I’ve had more time than the rest of you to read Dr. Watson’s blog,” she said. “Right at the beginning, when he had just met Sherlock, they were working a crime scene and the forensics guy called Sherlock a psychopath. Sherlock immediately corrected him and said he was a high-functioning sociopath and I think it’s partially true, although Sherlock’s a little hard on himself. The way John writes it, it’s rather amusing; you should check it out. Sherlock isn’t interested in social interaction; all he wants to do is solve the mystery. As John writes it, he’s all about the work. I’m not convinced he’s a true sociopath, though.”
“What’s the difference?” Kono asked. “Obviously, there is one or there wouldn’t be two terms but I’m a bit hazy.”
“Actually, that’s a source of some debate,” Jenna replied. “I did a little bit of research because, like you, I wasn’t quite sure. Some psychologists think the terms interchangeable, others differentiate between the two but the terms are used to describe people with antisocial personality traits. They have a lot of similar traits like not caring about the consequences of their actions; ignoring other people’s rights, prepared to do anything to get their own way, etc., but the psychopath seems to be regarded as far more dangerous. I think my absolute favourite answer is that a psychopath thinks 2+2=5 rather than 2+2=4 and a sociopath knows 2+2=4, but hates to admit it.” That brought a general chuckle but Danny was like a dog with a bone.
“Well, this is just great, isn’t it? We have a self-professed sociopath helping us track down a psychopathic serial killer - did you see what I just did there, huh? - and maybe, potentially, if the sociopath is to be believed, we also have an international conspiracy of gigantic proportions, which we are now busting our chops to break. It seems to me that Sherlock Holmes isn’t the only nut job round here!”
“The information he provided is excellent, though,” Kono chimed in. “I don’t know what access he has to resources but it’s impressive, to say the least.” Danny threw up his hands.
“Oh God, you are all fully paid up members of the Sherlock Holmes fan club. I might as well give up.”
“Okay,” Steve said, bringing the debate to a close before Danny got back into full flow again. “Let’s finish up here and get back to work. Hopefully, there’ll be a few answers when we get back. And we all need to get some sleep.”
Part 2
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