Natural (vamplock)

Chapter 2: The Second Victim

(Blood, descriptions of a body/crime scene)

Lestrade's shoulders sank. "Unbelievable. Bloody heck." Sherlock responded by turning back to the window and angrily ripping out a page and a half of sheet music, running his bow furiously up and down the strings of his bow. This song was fast and loud, angry and red. My friend paused for a second and bent over to scribble something down onto the half empty second page. It was then that I realized he was actually composing. And from my knowledge, an angry Sherlock composing music was a horrid thing to witness, let alone interrupt. Knowing this, and that Lestrade would most likely attempt to console the detective, I quickly ushered the DI towards the door.

"Thank you, Greg, for dropping by. It really is an interesting case, and I’m lost as to why he won’t take it, even to just prove the forensics wrong.” I whispered, blocking the DI from reentering the flat.

Lestrade took a deep breath. “Talk to him, will you?” I nodded reassuringly and Lestrade sighed. “I- Okay. If he changes his mind, come down to the Yard, okay?

“I’ll tell him.” Lestrade ran a hand through his hair once again, and I could see the fear and concern shining in his blue-grey eyes.

“Alright. Alright, okay. Thank you, I-” Lestrade's phone chimed. The poor man, I thought, he’s been interrupted too much today, but that was the least of my worries. At the sound of Lestrade’s phone, the music singing resentfully behind me cut off abruptly and the flat was hurled into silence. Lestrade cursed and pulled out his phone, quickly reading the apparent text, forehead creasing in worry.

“John.”

"Yes?" Lestrade didn’t look up, instead pressing the phone into my hand. I scanned the message in horror. We’ve dealt with serial killers before, but never two victims in the same number of days.

'There's been another one.' it read. The contact name read Srgt. Donovan. '19-year-old non-binary person. They were found dead in their bedroom half an hour ago by their girlfriend. Same marks as the first one. Come to 890 York Blvd asap and bring the freak if you can.'

"Sherlock! I called over my shoulder, passing the phone back to Lestrade. There was no response but I knew he was listening. And had probably already deduced what was happening, but that wouldn’t stop me. "Sherlock, there's been another one. Non-binary 19-year-old, found in their bedroom by their girlfriend less then an hour ago. Same markings as the 22-year-old female.”

I heard my friend scoff and I turned, shooting him my best ‘you better behave’ look. In turn, Sherlock refused to meet my gaze, instead dropping his violin on his chair and flopping onto the couch, tugging his silk robe around his body and burying his face in the cushion. “You really believe it’s a vampire?” he asked in a slightly muffled, scornful voice.

I rolled my eyes and shot back, “I didn’t say anything about vampires.”

“You implied it. Same markings as the 22-year-old female and everyone believes a vampire killed the first victim.”

“Alright. Well, I am going to investigate. You may find it dull and boring, but I am intrigued.” I could almost see the raised eyebrow. “Oh for the love of- I am a doctor, Sherlock, I can use big words too! Now, I am going to the crime scene with Greg and we are going to investigate.”

"Mm.” I could only describe how Sherlock moved as a wiggle. He wiggled onto his back and steepled his fingers under his chin. “You're just wasting your time. I've already solved it."

“Care to enlighten us?” I felt bad for Lestrade, standing in the doorway, phone in hand and an anxious look on his face.

Again, I got no response and the detective’s eyes fluttered shut.