Distasteful Profession

Fancy some death, would ya'?

"Officer Watson; Homicide. What do we have here?" John asked, showing his badge to another cop who was letting people through.

"A murder, obviously." Said a much taller man as he strolled right through, his black Trench coat flowing only a moment in his wake. John furrowed his eyebrows and tried to walk after the man to demand ID, but the man allowing people to enter grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. "Right, well, who was that?" John asked, the man's harsh statement nagging in his mind. "Willam Holmes. He works in Forensics. He's the blood spatter analyst." The man explained. John nodded, half understanding. "How come he gets to walk through whenever he likes?" John asked, gesturing to the paths the man passed through. "The man's insane." A woman said, passing by John's earshot. John turned around to see a black woman with Afro-like hair and in a pantsuit. "Theory's going around that he's killing these people, but we don't have any evidence of it. He's a psychopath. I'd stay away from him if I were you," She warned. John only but scoffed and went to the crime scene. William was there, setting up his camera.

"How do you think it happened?"John asked, placing his hands in his pockets. "He had an affair with a cop, which his partner, do to their bad background, didn't like. They grabbed the gun and shot him. Once they realized what they'd done, they went to the nearest hood and got shot there." He said, gesturing to everywhere in the space the suspect went. "How do you know they were a cop?" John asked, scratching his head. William scoffed. "Ugh, l matched up the serial number and ran the registration on the murder weapon. Fingerprints don't match the cop so we have to assume that whoever's fingerprints are on the gun, is the murderer." He said, looking rather tired of having to explain the details of the scene. "But, isn't that the murder weapon, there?" John asked, gesturing to the gun on the ground. "Indeed," William confirmed. "How did you 'Match it up' if it's not even in evidence?" John asked, looking sceptically at the tall, pale man. "John, I can't really explain it to you, and not going to do it for anyone else, but my brain is like a hard drive that I can either delete or store my information in. Whatever helps with the job," He said. William went back to taking pictures when John muttered, "Amasing," under his breath. William froze, slowly turning to John.

John held out his hand for William to shake. "John Watson, you are William, I was told..?" William rolled his eyes and let a groan out of his throat. "Technically, yes. My first name is William, but I go by Sherlock. So, please," He said, giving the death glare to the man letting people through, who simply smiled and waved devilishly. "Stay away from Anderson," Sherlock said, "He's a simpleton." John looked back from Anderson to Sherlock, who had already begun walking to the Detective Inspector, Greg Lestrade.

"John Watson, was it? How's your first case since you've been back?" Greg asked. Sherlock's eyes widened when he chuckled as if he forgot something. "That's what I meant to ask," Sherlock recalled with a sigh, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" He asked, making John a bit nervous. "Uh, p-pardon..?" John stuttered. "Never mind, it doesn't bother me any. What did you see in there, John?" Sherlock asked. Greg looked at the two of them strangely. "Since when were you two on first name basis..?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips. "Since when is Anderson allowed to give first names to newbies?" Sherlock retaliated, copying Greg's actions by placing his hands on his hips. Greg sighed and walked over to Anderson. After a pretty heated conversation between those two, the woman who warned Joh about Sherlock before ran up to Greg and whispered something to him. He then told Anderson, and the three of them began jogging to their police cars.

John did his best to catch up with them and asked them what it was about. "We got a dead body in an alleyway, bad part of town," Greg said getting into his car. John slowed to a halt. He looked back at Sherlock, who was simply smirking. He walked with a confident stride that John swore, not even the noblest of soldiers could have. John knew; he was a soldier. Fought in The Afghanistan War, which is why he was so sceptical when Sherlock gave him an option of Afghanistan or Iraq.