Sherlock's Daughter

Corpses are Fun!

"Get in the car." Lestrade commands me to do. There is so much "girl I swear if you object me one more time" in his voice I didn't bother trying to wiggle out of it for fun.

"So, where are we going?" I ask, clicking my gray seatbelt on and slamming the police car door shut. Lestrade looks over and wipes out his notebook.

"Umm, 108 Brixton, some apartment building, we'll know it when we see it." Lestrade sighs and starts the car with a sad look on his face. I feel Lestrade pin something to my jacket.

"What is that?" I look at the miniscule device.

"A tracker...that way you can't run." Lestrade informs me with a slight smile on his face. I don't reply. I just sit there in silence. Usually Lestrade is pretty talkative to me, despite how horrible I am to him, so I decide to speak up.

"What's wrong?" I confront him. Even though by the way he has been treating me, and the lack of conversation he is trying to start he is mad at me for something. Not about last night, but about...Jared. I guess you could say I'm just trying to be sympathetic and look like I care.

"How long have you, Jared, Jensen, and Rosie been hanging out and getting high?" Lestrade confronts me, his body turns and he locks eyes with me, showing no signs of breaking the contact. I knew last night he would eventually figure out that I know Jensen through drugs and partying.

"It's just been me and Jensen. No one else." I lie, letting the fib roll of my tongue, John says I am almost as good of a liar as Sherlock is. I don't know of that's a compliment or a insult.

"I'm a detective, I know when someone is lying. Tell me. He is my son. I'm worried." Lestrade whines as he continues driving down the busy London streets.

I give a loud sigh, "We've all been doing It for about 2 years...." I trail off, feeling a little awkward, considering I'm telling this to a cop.

"Why couldn't I ever tell he was on drugs?" Lestrade thinks out loud. Since his mind is just to stupid to recognise it I help him out.

"You can't tell because he always waits until he isn't high anymore to come home." I inform Lestrade. I tell him this because I sort of owe it to him. I am a constant asshole to him. I know Jared is my friend but I mean Jared will find a way to continue doing drugs if he gets in trobule.

"Oh." Lestrade's eyes look a tad wet, tears, sentiment. That is one feeling I have never been able to feel, sentiment. It's such a petty feeling, it only holds someone back from getting a job done.

"Okay. We are arriving, drop the subject we are arriving at the scene." Lestrade demands. After he parks the car I get out in my black skinny jeans, black v-neck and black leather jacket.

"Oh, look is it freak Jr.?" A detective points out, I've heard Sherlock talk about her, Sally is her name. Judging by the smell of her perfume, no cologne, she spent the night with someone.

"Shut you fucking mouth Sally!" I demand as I man, oh I know this man, Anderson, that bastard, "oh if it isn't the man that Sally spent the night with?!" I point out. Anderson steps In front of Sally and stares daggers at me.

"What do you mean?" Anderson points out.

"Your wife is gone, you and Donovan are wearing the same cologne. I would certainly hope that she doesn't wear cologne out of choice, oh and she is wearing the same thing as yesterday. I know because you were both on Tele yesterday and she was wearing the same outfit. Did you fuck her really hard or something? I mean she can barely walk.." I point out before walking inside the murder scene.

"DAMN IT! THERE IS TWO!" I hear Sally and Anderson yell as I enter the house. On the floor there is a man, about 40, shot 3 times, with a bashed in head.

"You have 10 minutes." Lestrade says before telling everyone to clear the room. I examine the body, in his right pocket there is an ID card to a hospital, doctor then, his right hand in covered in blood, but the bullet wounds are in his chest, so he placed pressure on the wounds trying to escape this led to the other wounds. The door to the apartment isn't kicked in or anything. So the victim let the murder in. In the kitchen there is one glass of wine on the table, buts shards of glass on the floor. I search the floor and find the bottom to another glass, so the murderer was someone he was expecting. I put the bottom if the glass in my jacket pocket.

"I need anything you've got." Lestrade comes in after 3 minutes have past.

I take a gulp of breath,"The victim, 40 years old, doctor, judging by all the neurology books on the wall, a neurosurgeon or neurologist. Wait, neuroologist...way to many books on neuroscience. He let the murderer in, someone he was expecting and got two glasses of wine out, and then the murder struck, the victim tried to escape but couldn't. The murderer was infuriated, 2 shots killed the man but the bashed in head and extra shot were anger." I say in a matter of seconds.

"But how could you possible know about 2 wine glasses?" Lestrade looks up from his notebook and knits his eyebrows.

"Shards of glass on the floor, another glass, wine bottle on the table." I point out.

"Wow...John wasn't joking when he said you were just as good as Sherlock," Lestrade murmurs, "come one we have to get you back to your place, Sherlock said you, him, and John have to discuss something." Lestrade leads me out the door. Damn, that was amazing.