Against The Most Feared - Johnlock Fanfiction (1 of 3)

Chapter Two - A New Case To Solve

Sherlock and John walked down the street where the blue and red police lights shone out onto the street and radiated off the surrounding buildings. They were in West London, a rather violent and uncivilised corner of London, well, so Sherlock thinks.

A few hours after Sherlock’s epidemic, Lestrade phoned up and said that he has a new case for the two of them. From the description that Lestrade gave Sherlock and John, it sounded like any normal murder, well, as normal as murders get around London. John on the other hand was persistent that Sherlock should stay home while John went and helped Lestrade, but Sherlock convinced John that he was fine, and that he could go.

Police cars were parked on the road, blocking off the street with the added help of police tape tied from one side of the road to the other and an ambulance was parked near an alleyway. Police men and women were hovering around and directing cars through to an alternative route.

Sherlock and John ducked under the police tape and walked up to the crime scene. Lestrade was talking to Sergeant Donavon next to the messy alleyway where the ambulance was parked. He spotted them and waved for them to come over.

As Sherlock and John walked over, Donavon turned and crossed her arms. ‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t the police’s favourite psychopath. Come to solve some more murders, freak

Sherlock rolled his eyes, biting down a nasty comment. ‘Yes, Donavon. And if I might ask you to please swallow all psychopath-related comments for tonight, I’m not up for consistently telling you that I’m actually a sociopath. And don’t object to it, just build a bridge and get over it.’

Donavon’s eyes were large with surprise, and Lestrade was left looking between Sherlock and Donavon with his mouth wide open.

Donavon raised her hands as a gesture of defence and backed away. ‘No need to ask me twice.’ And, at that note, she walked in the direction of where a police car was parked.

Lestrade took a breath and closed his mouth. ‘Uh…right then.’ Lestrade beckoned Sherlock and John to follow him and they did so down the alleyway where police men were taking photographs of a dead body.

‘The name’s Darryl Pierce, 32. He lives in North London and he’s the boss of the United Kingdom’s largest export and import industry.’ Lestrade waved his hand at the body. The man’s body was lying in a pool of blood, his lifeless eyes wide open in a frozen state of terror and a bullet wound right between his eyes. The only odd thing is that he didn’t have a stitch on him. No clothes what so ever.

‘Two weeks ago, he was supposed to go to Edinburgh for a business conference that was supposed to last about two days. When his wife called after the third day, obviously a bit worried, his co-worker said that he didn’t even arrive. He was then called on as missing.’

‘About two weeks had passed since then, and his wife’s been worried sick. Then about three hours ago, an elderly lady was walking past and she found his body.’

‘The medics said that he had been dead for about twenty four to forty eight hours. Now, we would’ve just passed this along as a murder, but we had have at least four of these murders just like this.’ Lestrade held up a plastic evidence bag with a bloody bullet in it.

‘Same bullets as the rest of them, all from the same gun.’ Lestrade rubbed his forehead. ‘Look, if you’ve got anything, tell me. I’m sick of this already. Four people have died.’ Sherlock looked at the body. He couldn’t deduce anything except the obvious fact that he was shot in the head.

‘Someone wants me not to get into this case.’ Sherlock said out loud. 

John frowned and Lestrade raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘What do you mean, Sherlock?’