How We Unfold (SherlockBBC; Johnlock)

Chapter 7: A Change in Plans

Lestrade

After reading Molly's morgue report, I'm positive Williams' death was nothing short of murder. Of course the note found in his stomach is a bit of an alarm. It certainly suggests something dubious is going on. The only problem is, Williams was a perfect citizen. Absolutely clean record. No enemies from what we could gather. He worked in a shipping yard along the river, had a great relationship with all of his coworkers and was described as a pleasant fellow. He was a perfectly likable, healthy man. That is until he turned up dead in a back alley near the shipping yards. There's clearly something missing here, that we just can't see. Yet.

I try to think like Sherlock. I never admit that to anyone, of course. But when a case comes along that, if he were here, I'd go to him for help on, I try to compensate for his absence. Of course I can't actually do whatever it is that he did, but I try. I don't believe he was a fake. I've seen him in action too any times to know better. Whatever that business with Moriarty was about, I will get to the bottom of it. But that doesn't change the fact that he's gone. And, as much as we try to deny it, we still need him.

I rub my eyes and lean back in my office chair. It's been a long day at Scotland Yard and it's looking like it's going to be a long night as well. I pull open my desk drawer and pull out the bag of chips I have stashed in there. I pull open the bag and it crinkles loudly. I always think better once I've eaten. I start munching on the salty snack and flip open the case folder to review again.

I don't think we'll get very far until we find out what those numbers from the paper found in the victims stomach mean. But with all the other cases going on it'll be awhile before the number analyst can get back to us, so my only hope for now is John. Despite how the others feel, I'm patient with him. He has proven himself to be useful, but I know it's hard on him in ways that the others couldn't understand. Sherlock was my friend too. He was an ass, but he was my friend. It wasn't just about needing his help, and I think he knew that. So I'm patient with John.

John hasn't called with any updates yet, so here I am reviewing case files and pretending to be busy. I lean back and put my feet on my desk, one crossed over the other. For now, I'm just going to enjoy these chips and not think about murders.

Sally leans around the corner of my door frame and raps her knuckles briefly on the open door. Her long curly hair falls to the side.

"What." I say through a mouthful of chips.

"I'm heading to Maria Vasquez' house, you wanna talk to her?" She points with her thumb behind her.

I swallow the food in my mouth, "Yeah, give me a minute."

She nods and walks away. I close the bag of chips and stuff it back into my drawer, then I quickly wipe any crumbs from my lips. I grab my coat from the back of my chair and head for the exit. Sally is already at the curb hailing a cab. She tells the driver the address quickly through the open passenger window and we climb into the back. The taxi has a leathery smell to it making me crinkle my nose. Smells like a new car. I settle into the seat and Sally relaxes next to me. We don't talk much during the ride, we're both comfortable with the silence.

Finally the cab comes to a stop outside a quaint one story house. I ask the driver to wait for us and quickly shuffle my pockets for money to pay him as we climb out of the cab. We step out onto the small cracked sidewalk lining the pleasant but run-down suburb. The yard is well kept but the potted plants freckling the front porch are wilting. Grass can go longer without immediate care. I don't have to imagine why Maria isn't caring for the plants. The small house is old, white paint chipping along the wooden porch. The stone steps lead up to a small white door with an oval window at its center. A white lace curtain closes the window from the world on the other side. The porch creaks with our heavy steps and I immediately tighten my body.