Sherlock: His Enigma Called A

The Poaching Poisoner (II)

"Good. You made it."

"Creighton Lowry." Sherlock deduced as he analyzed the man who stood beside one of the slate lab tables, holding a crowbar that had obviously been used to strike the side of the heavy metal refrigerator that stood against the wall. The man nodded slowly.

"I knew you'd figure me out eventually when I learned that you were on my case. So I thought I'd have a little fun anyways."

"Creighton... I should have known," Adelaide murmured to herself, "Always off on a project and bringing back suspiciously fresh samples."

Creighton shrugged, "I only got into the Museum because I required access to the technology that, ironically, wouldn't have fit in that house. I make ten times more with my private business than what I do, or ever did here anyway."

"Yes, and I suppose that this is your resignation, Mister Lowry. You've gotten what you want already. This segment of your plan is complete. Why keep working as a menial toxicologist when you can go off and stir up trouble elsewhere?"

Creighton Lowry smiled wickedly and shifted. He was perhaps a few centimeters shorter than Sherlock but equally as intimidating. His short, gelled back platinum blonde hair glinted in the florescent lighting, matched by the dangerous spark in his dark gray eyes. He wore a crisp black tuxedo and shiny black dress shoes that accented his toned build- a contrast to Sherlock's svelte, lank form. Creighton hummed and craned his head lazily towards Adelaide. 

"Adelaide, dear, you've gone rather quiet. I hope you're not lost in thought again when your life could very well be at stake."

Adelaide hissed and glowered at him, "We're in a lab full of lethal creatures. Aren't we all in danger anyways?"

"Scotland Yard is on their way. You're cornered, Mister Lowry. I don't suppose you'd enlighten us to your plan while we await their imminent arrival?" Sherlock interrupted. He poised to reach for his pistol, stepping slightly in front of Adelaide.

"Of course. Always the curious one," Creighton exhaled, "Oh, where to begin? I presume a good start would be to explain why I am pulling this heist. It's simple. Dreadfully simple. Now that I've successfully concocted a variety of synthetic toxins- kudos to the museum for claiming the very animals I needed to complete my research- all that's left is to liberate my work and catch my ride."

"Why did you make those serums?" Adelaide probed.

"An excellent question but one I'm not inclined to answer."

"Then why did you call us down here?"

Sherlock knew that Creighton was only stalling but said nothing. The poisoner knew something he didn't and he needed to figure it out. Creighton sighed, "Obvious! I wanted to test one of my serums on you, Adelaide. I'm sure that Sherlock Holmes as a fellow scientific genius would appreciate watching the effects of synthetic toxins on a live subject. It gets boring when you only get to see the results, right?"

"Of all the people you could've injected tonight, why Adelaide and not a lowly security guard?"

"I was going to use Ryan instead- she's made a few passes at me- but when I heard you were working with Sherlock Holmes I couldn't resist." Creighton chuckled, "For whatever you're worth, Adelaide, you certainly do have your moments. When you aren't talking to animals and getting in the way of my work."

"You are exploiting animals that are protected, endangered and even close to extinction!" She ranted in reply, "They're living creatures who developed their toxic abilities to protect them from people like you!"

Creighton let his head tilt to the side. Sherlock caught his gaze as the blonde spoke, "And I'm repurposing those abilities for people like you." Was all he said in response.

Creighton suddenly pulled out a pistol and aimed. Sherlock pushed Adelaide down and got out his own gun to retaliate. He managed to duck as the blonde poisoner fired off a spray of bullets in their direction. Sherlock waited until Creighton's magazine emptied, then took his shot and grazed Creighton in the arm, "Sherlock-!"

He whipped around to find Adelaide pinned to the floor by none other than Jacob Powell- aiming a second gun at the detective, "Scotland Yard thinks we're in the main basement. They'll be stuck for hours down there searching for us, Creighton." He called over to the poacher.

It clicked in Sherlock's mind, "I had a feeling that you were connected to the poacher. Your asking Adelaide on a date was suspiciously convenient."

Jacob smirked and clicked off his gun's safety, "As is being within perfect firing range to take down London's Hat Detective." Sherlock made to reply but Creighton cut in with exasperation.

"Enough! Jacob, I have a serum to test and not much time before the flight."

"Of course," Jacob slowly stood and yanked Adelaide up. He aimed at Sherlock's head, "I suppose this one won't need much investigating, will it, Mister Holmes?"

Thank you for reading!!