I am not lonely [Mystrade]

Chapter 194 : Freak's help

Greg's tea was cold be he drank it anyway, enjoying the first five  minutes of rest since he had woken up in the middle of the night. The  news of the bloody murder was now on every front page and by the end of  the morning everyone on social media had already started giving their  own version and theories about it.

The detective on the other  hand was still stuck, waiting for the result of the analysis he had  asked for on the previous evening and all the precaution he had asked  the post offices to take regarding parcels hadn't been enough to avoid a  primary school in Chelsea and a gym in Notting Hill from each receiving  a hand of the dismantled body. Three other parcels had thankfully been  found before being delivered in a warehouse in south London and sent to  the lab for further analysis.

All the boxes had the same shape  and were covered with the same handwriting, letting the police deduce  that this was the work of a single man, most probably the guy seen in  the video. The Tories' parcel and two others - one addressed to the liberals and another one to the foreign office -  had been registered in the same Whitechapel office whilst the three  others had been sent from Camden's post office, suggesting that the  killer knew London enough to move around with bloody boxes without  attracting attention.

Even then one of the legs, both the arms,  the pelvis and the head were still missing and the inspector was quite  sure that they wouldn't stay hidden for long. Minimum informations about  the possibility of people receiving body parts by mail had been given  to the press but the policeman knew that if by the end of the day they  hadn't succeed retrieving the missing parts they would need to inform  the general public about it.

Greg  was contemplating the outside life by his windows, wondering if his  killer was somewhere there when he felt his phone vibrating in his  pocket. He quickly grabbed it only to see the name of his brother-in-law  displayed on his lock screen.

"Sherlock, it's really not the moment I swear." he took the call in an annoyed voice.

"Graham  ! What did I just hear ? You have an interesting case for the first  time in month and you don't even call me in ? Selfish you !" the young sleuth ignored his temper, apparently jubilating.

"It is a police mater Sherlock ..." the policeman moaned, too tired to be polite.

"Non sense !" the younger man dismissed. "You've  got a psycho out there sending bits and pieces of cadaver to offices  and institution all around the city and who is on the verge of flying to  South America and you are telling me you don't need help ?"

"How the hell do you know that he want to leave for South America ?" Greg questioned, genuinely not knowing if the man was making it up or not.

"Am I in then ?" the consulting detective teased the yarder, knowing that he had attracted his attention.

"Alright, alright. But I want you to share every informations you have with us and don't complain about the team you have to work with." the policeman accepted, frustrated.

Half  an hour later Sherlock made the drama queen entry only someone who  knows the others are desperate could do. That was, in fact, always the  way Sherlock Holmes would enter any places related to one of his  investigation. He directed himself directly to Sally Donovan's private  cubicle and threw himself in the master's chair, nearly bumping over the  policewoman who was just coming back from making herself a cup of tea.

"Oh, but isn't that our favourite freak ?" Sally teased, not in the mood for one of the sleuth's demonstration.

"You  know Scott will find out that you are the one who accidentally bump his  car in the car park when he will remark the red paint under your thumb  nail ?" the consulting detective replied, knowing that it would instantly calm her down.