Consulting Pineapples (Psychlock)

Chapter Eight--Negotiations

Sherlock kept muttering to himself, occasionally looking up as if he had the answer, then looking back down and looking even more frustrated.

    “Can I help?” John finished his dinner and looked up at his antisocial companion.

    Sherlock shook his head annoyedly. “There must be something I’m missing.” He glanced around the restaurant, as if someone would spontaneously announce that they were the killer. No such luck. “Think, John.”

    The doctor rolled his eyes and was about to make some kind of sarcastic comeback when Sherlock’s mobile rang.

    “Lestrade.” Sherlock said without looking at it, pulling the phone out and answering it almost excitedly, if Sherlock could be said to be excited about anything. “Hello?” He asked impatiently.

    “Sherlock, there’s been another.” The detective inspector said quickly. “Berkeley Square.”

    The consulting detective’s eyes lit up as he hung up with a quick goodbye. He stood without a word and swept out, gesturing for John to follow him.

 

Shawn asked the cabbie to stop at some random place about a block away from the murder scene. Motioning for Gus to follow, he snuck around several buildings before getting to the scene.

    “No convenient rooftops here,” he whispered to Gus.

    “Why am I here again?” Gus looked quite annoyed.

    “You’re my partner. That’s what you do. Now come on.” Getting as close as he could, he flattened himself against a wall and tried to listen to the officials on the scene. He couldn’t hear much but he did hear snatches of conversation.

    “...same as last time…”

    “...another suitcase…”

    He grabbed Gus’s arm. “It’s the same as last time. Another suitcase, too.” He paused and quickly shot a glance over the wall. “I wonder where that Sherlock guy is.”

    A cab pulled up and said detective came sweeping out. “I spoke too soon, Gus. Found him.”

    Sherlock walked over to where the body was, one of his steps equalling three of John’s. “Same as before?” He asked, not really expecting an answer and leaning over the body to turn it over.

    Lestrade answered anyway. “Yes, and there’s another suitcase if you’d like to have a look.”

    “Where?” Sherlock looked up and glanced around, spotting some kind of movement behind a low wall. He walked over slowly, half listening to Lestrade and half trying to be as quiet as possible.

    “Gus. Ideas. I need to get closer,” Shawn hissed in Gus’s ear.

    “I don’t know, okay? You could wait ‘til later!” Gus whispered.

    “What’s the fun in that? Besides...Sherlock.”

    “Sherlock? Really? That’s your problem with this? That is sad, Shawn.”

    The consulting detective recognised the American accents, then his name. He reached over the wall, grabbing Shawn by his arm. “Hello.”

    Shawn popped to his feet, yanking his arm out of Sherlock’s grasp and then rubbing it. “Hello to you, too.”

    Sherlock had absolutely no comment on the whispered conversation he’d overheard, he was used to people talking about him behind his back. “You don’t have to hide, it’s a public case now, serial killer.”