Elephant's Memory (Sherlock BBC)

The Great Game part 8: Burglary

"So, this is where Mr. West was found?" John asked, walking through a dusty train yard with an overweight tube guard as a companion. The Guard (whose name-tag read "T.J") seemed ready to forget the ordeal and go home.

"Yep. You gonna be long?"

"Maybe, I dunno."

"You with the police, then?" T.J. asked, with irritation filling his features.

"Sort of." John replied, for he did not have Sherlock's skills of deception and Clara's skill of paying everyone who saw through Sherlock to stay quiet.

"I hate them." The Guard grumbled.

"The police?" John asked, reaching behind himself for the gun stowed in the back of his jeans.

"No, Jumpers." John looked down at his sweater and then up at T.J. again, looking confused.

"Pardon?"

"People who chuck themselves in front of trains." was the explanation, "Selfish bastards. It's all right for them; it's over in a split second, but then there's raspberry jam all over the lines! Who's gonna clean it up? And what about the Tube Drivers, hmm?" He spat into the dirt, and John's nose wrinkled up. "They've gotta live with it, haven't they?" John squatted down in the dirt, running his fingers along the line.

"Yeah, but speaking of strawberry jam, there's no blood on the line. Has it been cleaned off?"

"Well, first off, Mr. Watson, I said raspberry. Second, there weren't that much."

"You said his head was bashed in." John said suspiciously, looking up at T.J.

"Well, it was! -- but there weren't that much blood."

Alright." The tube guard said, and scratched his elbow. "I'll leave you to it, then. Give us a shout when you're off, alright?

"Yeah, right." John said shortly, looking down at the line and trying to channel his inner Sherlock. "Right... So, uh, Andrew West got on the train somewhere... or did he? There was no ticket on the body... So, how did he end up here?" There was the sound of a train whistle, and then the track moved to transfer the train onto a new direction.

"Points." Sherlock's voice sounded from behind John. 

"Yes!" John shouted, both startled and relieved to find Sherlock standing not five feet behind him. 

'I knew you'd get there eventually. West wasn't killed here, and that's why there was so little blood."

"How long have you been following me?" John asked, now a bit peeved.

"Oh, since the start." Sherlock grinned stiffly. "You don't think I'd give up on a case like this just to spite my brother, do you?" He turned around. "Come on. Got a bit of burglary to do before we're needed back at Scotland Yard." John hurried along behind him like a good little hobbit.

"Have they found anything out about Clara's abduction?"

"No, but I've got Mycroft pulling strings." Sherlock said, pulling john away from the train yard and then down several blocks of street "Now, back on subject; the missile defense plans haven't left the country, otherwise Mycroft's people would have heard about it." He smirked. "Despite what most people think, we do still have a marginally secret service."

"Yeah, I know." John said, some sort of grudge clear in his voice. "I've met them."

"Which means whoever stole the memory stick can't sell it or doesn't know what to do with it." Sherlock said, turning towards one of the houses on the street. "My money's on the latter. We're here."