Consulting Pineapples (Psychlock)

Chapter Five--The Hunt Begins

“There has to be SOMETHING.” Sherlock slammed his hand onto the cluttered counter, looking up from his microscope and glaring over at where John was talking to Molly quietly.

    “Tone it down!” John glared right back and pointed to where Sherlock’s hand was resting on top of a shattered petri dish. “Can you go one day without breaking something unnecessarily?”

    Sherlock sulked and looked back at his microscope. There was something about the blood sample, something different.

    Molly walked over cautiously and lifted his hand out of the broken glass. “You’re bleeding...”

    “Mmm,” Sherlock said disinterestedly, focusing the lens and leaning backward to allow her access to the microscope. “Do you see anything strange?”

    She looked at him uncertainly and then stepped forward. “Yeah, looks like it’s been in direct contact with...salt.” Molly stepped back quickly, sweeping the glass off the counter into her hand and going to throw it away.

    “Salt?” Sherlock took her arm to stop her and looked through the microscope again.

    “Yes, but what does that matter?” Molly stopped and looked back at him.

    “Salt changes everything.” Sherlock gave a half smile and squeezed her arm gently before standing and pulling on his coat again. “Thank you, Molly, you’ve been a lot of help.”

    Molly blushed slightly and nodded. “No problem, see you.”

    Sherlock swept out of the lab, spinning John around and pushing him towards the door as he went.

    “Your hand’s still bleeding,” John reminded him as they got out to hail a cab. “And where exactly are we going?”

    Sherlock looked at his hand a moment and then climbed into the cab after John. “The crime scene. I need to see the stab wound closer.”

    John nodded and sat back in his seat.

    They arrived at the crime scene a few minutes later and Sherlock jumped out, leaving John to pay and close the door. They showed the ID that Sherlock had stolen from Lestrade earlier and ducked under the tape.

    Sherlock stepped up to the body, turning it to allow a better view. What did the salt have to do with anything? Salt in the suitcase, and salt in the victim’s bloodstream.

    “Oh, look, Freak’s here,” Donovan announced sarcastically. “Have it all figured out, I suppose?”

    Sherlock pointedly ignored her and turned to John. “What do normal people do with salt?”

    John looked vaguely amused and said, “What, normal people like me?”

    Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

    “I don’t know. Cooking?” John said, instantly feeling silly.

    “I’m sure that’s it, John.” Sherlock sighed and looked back at the victim, gesturing at the wound. “Perhaps this person died from an irregularly salted order of chips.”

    John just shook his head. “You asked.”

    Sherlock spun on his heel and went back out to the curb.

Shawn paced the room impatiently.

    “You have pretty much nothing to go on, Shawn. Why don’t you just let the police take care of it?” Gus asked, not looking up from his book.

    “Because that Sherlock guy is annoying and I want to beat him, that’s why.”

    “That’s not a good enough answer for me.”

    “Gus!”

    “We’re in London. In England,” said Gus with an air of long-suffering.

    “I took third grade geography, thanks.”

    Gus turned back to his book. “You have fun getting arrested. I’m staying here.”

    “I’m not going to get arrested.” Shawn returned to pacing the room, ignoring Gus’s snort. “There’s got to be something I’m missing! Think, Shawn, think!” He closed his eyes and sank into a chair, desperately trying to remember everything he had heard or seen at the crime scene. “There wasn’t much I could hear. What I do remember...hmm…”

    After a couple minutes he sprang up suddenly. “I’m going back. I don’t have enough to work with, and besides, I need to check something. Don’t worry,” he added, seeing the look on Gus’s face, “I won’t be an idiot. I won’t let anyone see me.”

    Gus sighed. “I’ll come with you.”

    “Yes, you will.”

    “Shawn!”

    “Sorry,” Shawn said, not looking sorry at all.

    They went outside and hailed a taxi, and soon they were back at the crime scene. Most of the officers were gone now, just a couple of forensics specialists. Shawn half-walked, half-creeped over to where he could get a good look at the scene without alerting the officers. They were carrying on a conversation that seemed to be about Sherlock.

    “And he says the suitcase doesn’t belong to the victim. That it was switched or something. I mean, I know he’s solved a lot of cases, but…” said the blonde girl.

    “Well, Lestrade believes him, so...yeah. Oh, did you hear about Andrew and Kalisha?” The brunette giggled.

    Shawn rolled his eyes at the gossip. But, still, the suitcase thing was a good clue. He hurried back to where Gus was standing, motioning for him to come closer. “The suitcase was switched! The two forensics people were talking about how that Sherlock guy said the suitcase was switched. If he’s anything like me, he’s not going to be wrong!” Shawn hissed in Gus’s ear.

    “You’ve been wrong before,” Gus pointed out.

    “Stop being so logical, Gus. Let’s go catch a murderer.”