InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "my uncle is my uncle's uncle"

Sherlock Holmes (ifimnothungry) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-02-14 16:25:00

Entry tags:

mac taylor, sherlock holmes

WHO: Sherlock Holmes & Mac Taylor (OPEN to everyone who received these texts)
WHAT: Irene Adler is dead. All that's left is the clean up.
WHEN: After this, this, & this
WHERE: Irene's Brownstone
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: In Progress

Sherlock knew he would get there too late. The first few seconds he'd had some hope as he's sprinted out of the flat without giving John any indication of why he was going or what the hurry was. He'd gotten down onto the streets and made a quick calculation between what form of transportation would be fastest. In the end, he'd decided that running, scaling and leaping the various buildings and shortcuts that he'd located between the flats and Irene's brownstone, would be the quickest way to get there. But by the time he was halfway and had yet to receive a response to any of his questions, he'd known. He'd known he was too late. The last text had only been a desperate attempt for her to prove him wrong once again.

Jumping down off the fire escape of the building across the street and running across it to Irene's, finding the door still firmly in place, Sherlock had paused, taking in the scene and moving as his eyes drew him slowly away from the main entrance and towards the side alley, following the trail of old dropped blood and shed decaying flash around the back. The french doors, beautiful but entirely the opposite of secure, had been smashed in. Simpler, easier access for creatures who weren't capable of the higher level thought or manipulations it would take to pick the lock on the much more secure front door.

More blood, more flesh, the stench of decay still linger in the building despite the fact it was obvious the attackers had fled the second they realized they weren't getting what they had came for. Following the chaos, gaze rebuilding the scene as he went, it didn't take Sherlock long to find Irene, crumpled in front of her fireplace with revolver still in hand. All of the scenes that Sherlock had seen over his life, all of the dead bodies in pools of their own blood and cold corpses on sterile morgue slab, there had been only one time before this where he'd felt anything within him moved beyond the scientific, beyond the simple and straight forward facts, and as he knelt next to her, simple instinct allowing him to avoid anything which might prove vital to the lab techs once they got here, Sherlock felt himself frozen with the intensity of it all.

This wasn't like before. This wasn't a faceless corpse on a slab whose only means of identification was through the measurements of the rest of her body. This was Irene. Plain, simple, and crystal clear, with no hope of there being another 'I'm not dead. Let's have dinner' text.

It took Sherlock nearly ten minutes to realize that he needed to call someone. Two more after that to finally resign to telling John why he'd fled the flat. But even then, he didn't move from the position that he'd taken up at her side. He could investigate the scene once the others got here. For now, he just needed to sit.

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notasir
2012-02-14 10:18 pm UTC (link)

Had it been virtually anyone else who had texted him, Mac likely would have questioned why he was being contacted for a suicide during what amounted to a zombie apocalypse. Yes, there was evidence to process in order to officially rule the death in such a way, but there were plenty of techs that he had hired who could perform that very simple task and allow him to keep his focus on trying to help those in danger from being attacked from the current city-wide menace. However, it hadn't been just anyone who had texted him, but rather Sherlock. That fact alone would have caught his attention regardless but, coupled with the understanding that clearly this was someone the man knew in some capacity, Mac knew that this was an unique situation and it required his immediate attention.

Less than five minutes after receiving the text, Mac arrived at the address he'd been given. His crime scene case in hand, gloves already on, he made his way inside with one hand hovering over the gun in his holster just in case. With a critical eye, he took in the sight of clear destruction, checking each room one by one until finally locating Sherlock. There were a few zombies with bashed in heads littering the room and Mac carefully stepped over them, his attention focused on the consulting detective near the fireplace and the body of a woman on the floor beside him.

"Sherlock." He said the other man's name in a carefully neutral tone as he approached, setting his case down quietly near the body. A heartbeat passed and he pulled another pair of gloves from his pocket. "Here. Put these on," he added, deciding that the best way to handle this situation was to be as thorough and professional as he always was. Something told him Sherlock wouldn't tolerate anything less and he knew the man wouldn't appreciate any attempts to talk about his feelings, of all things.

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-14 10:37 pm UTC (link)

Sherlock had heard Mac enter the scene. Not that he'd been entirely sure who it was that had first set foot in the house, but the sound of the tread had been distinctly male, so that had narrowed it down to Mac and Wuornos, and because he hadn't received a confirmation from the Police Chief yet, that had lead to the inevitable conclusion that it was the crime scene tech who had arrived first. Appropriate, considering. But no matter who it had been, hearing the entrance left Sherlock a few moments to gather himself, a stone mask falling in place where his features had once been as he reached out to take the gloves that where being offered to him.

"It seems straight forward enough," Sherlock said, a very slight break in his voice as he first started to talk, but he pushed past it. "The trail of destruction that ends in, in a room very she was very clearly cornered. There were marks on the front door. They probably had it barricaded as well. Not through intelligent strategy but some of them simply not knowing a better way in," He said, clearing his throat as he finally stood, reluctantly moving from the position he'd taken up beside Irene's body. "She had a gun, but she used the fire poker to defend herself. Why? Two choices come to mind. Either she didn't know how to use the gun, or she didn't have enough ammunition. As I know the first option to be decidedly not true, it must be the latter. One bullet. No sense to waste it when it will barely slow them down. Better to use it for a quick, relatively painless death," He said as he stepped carefully over the fallen zombie bodies to make room for Mac to examine her. "There's only one solid bite, on her shoulder. Other than that, they must have lost interest once she was...no longer alive. And retreated out the same way they'd came."

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notasir
2012-02-14 10:52 pm UTC (link)

It wasn't until Sherlock had moved and Mac was able to get close enough to the body to really look at it that he realized just who the victim happened to be. Irene Adler. The one woman, at least in the writings of Doyle, who had ever bested the great Sherlock Holmes. Mac didn't know her personally, and only knew a few bits and pieces of this particular version of her, but he knew enough to realize that Sherlock was likely not handling this half as well as he seemed to be. However that was neither here nor there at the moment. A personal connection with the victim aside, it was clear that the consulting detective had every intention of being professional and Mac wasn't about to try and rob him of that.

If the crime scene had indicated anything other than suicide, he wouldn't have dared touch the body until the medical examiner had arrived. However, with the insanity of the city as of late, Mac knew that there was every possibility Molly would be the one to remove the woman from the scene and was fairly certain she was currently up to her neck in other corpses. So, after silently snapping a few pictures to serve as later proof of precisely how Irene had landed when she'd fallen to the ground, Mac placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and carefully rolled her from where she was crumpled on her side so that she was on her back.

"Her eyes are closed."

The comment might have seen a bit inane to most but Mac had a reason for making such an observation. Keeping his focus on the body, he tacked on, "A good indication she died instantly." Which meant she hadn't suffered, even if he wasn't going to point as much out. Instead he turned his focus to her shoulder. "The bite was made antemortem but is coupled with a significant absence of blood for this type of wound." And that meant she had been bitten then died no more than two to three minutes apart, tops.

Sitting back on his heels, Mac finally turned his attention to Sherlock, deciding the rest of the room could wait for a minute more. "I have to ask," he said plainly, no accusation or even curiosity in his tone. Nothing but pure professionalism, each word carefully neutral. "How is it you were the first one on the scene?"

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-14 11:38 pm UTC (link)

It was a reasonable question considering he'd been here a great deal longer, and they likely wouldn't have even found this scene until hours after Irene had already been dead if it hadn't been for the fact that she'd texted him before it happened. So without saying a word, Sherlock fished his PDA out of his pocket and scrolled through the text messages until he got to Irene's, pulling it up and holding the phone out for Mac to see it, "I saved her once," He said, his voice as even as he could keep it. "Back in our world. But I had warning of that, tracking her movements and actions. We'd stripped her of the only thing that she had to protect herself so it was just a matter of time until someone tried to kill her," He said, frowning heavily to himself as his gaze lingered back over to Irene.

"I thought I could do it again," Sherlock said softly. "But I didn't get here in time."

Sherlock had already seen everything that Mac did, the fact her eyes were closed, the lack of blood around the wound, he'd tried to take comfort in it, but he could only come back to the fact that if he'd stopped being so stubborn about everything and agreed to do something with her, to spend time with her despite the fact that she didn't benefit from the arrangement in a way which he could understand, that she might have had a better chance to get out of here alive.

Or they'd both be dead, and John would be an even bigger mess than he already was, but there still would have been a chance.

"I should have been able to help her."

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notasir
2012-02-15 12:44 am UTC (link)

Mac barely glanced at the text message, some part of him feeling as though he was intruding on something private between Sherlock and Irene simply by looking at the thing. Still, he at least now had a viable reason to give anyone who might ask - and someone probably would, since some of the locals in the department were not Sherlock's biggest fans - and that was enough for him.

Simply listening as the man spoke, Mac tried to figure out the best thing to say. Too much sentimentality would be taken the wrong way, he was sure, even if he would have sincerely meant every word. Alternatively, completely disregarding what Sherlock was saying simply wasn't something Mac was capable of doing in the slightest. Finally, he rose to his feet and took a few seconds to snap a few more photos of the surrounding area before turning to face someone he was quickly beginning to consider a friend.

"I can't say for certain until Molly gets here to take her liver's temperature, but based on the time she sent the message and the feel of her skin, I'm willing to wager there is no possible way you could have made it here in time." The words were softly spoken yet still matter-of-fact. All evidence pointed to Irene having sent that message mere seconds before she died and not even the great Sherlock Holmes could travel the city that quickly.

Stifling a sigh, Mac turned toward the fireplace. Camera raised to take a few photos of the glass of wine and book lying neatly off to the side, he hesitated. With a slight frown, he lowered his camera and stepped closer, picking up the book for a closer look. Sure enough, the words across the front clearly read 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: A Scandal in Bohemia'.

Frozen for a split second or two, having an idea the significance of what that book likely meant, Mac forced the thoughts away for a few precious seconds and focused on snapping a few quick photos for the case file. Then he spoke to Sherlock once more.

"If you had been here," he said without an ounce of doubt in his mind, "you likely would be dead too, Sherlock. She wouldn't have wanted that anymore than she would want you blaming yourself for what happened to her."

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-15 01:00 am UTC (link)

No possible way. Sherlock understood what that meant even if Mac wasn't saying it straight out. It meant that she'd sent the message and shot herself mere moments later. Unless he'd been able to travel instantly the second that he'd gotten the message open, he'd always have found her exactly the same way. If he'd arrived earlier, he'd merely have had the zombies to deal with as well even if he'd managed to avoid most of them by traveling over the rooftops on his way here. "She wouldn't have," Sherlock affirmed Mac's last statement before taking a deep breath and storing his PDA back in his pocket. "Obviously I'm not needed on this scene," He said, standing straight backed and making his statement as professional as any other that he could have made. "But I hope you don't mind if I stick around until the coroner's van takes her away," He said, glancing back over at Mac. "To examine the place, obviously."

Not that he really needed to make an excuse for why he wanted to stay with Mac, he was sure, but it was better to give the man something to say if anyone else happened to show up and question his presence.

Moving over to where Mac was standing, Sherlock's gaze was drawn momentarily by the book on floor, the title provoking not only confusion but another brief blossoming of guilt in his chest. Not that he could entirely blame her for being curious, he couldn't help but think that if he'd been here, she wouldn't have needed to look for substitutions for the genuine article. "Maybe make a few mental notes about whether everything was so that it can go back in the same places after the clean up."

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notasir
2012-02-15 01:22 am UTC (link)

Honestly, Mac hadn't been looking for a reason to have Sherlock stick around. If anyone had shown up and wanted to know why the consulting detective was present at a clear case of suicide, he would have simply said he was there via invitation then probably verbally dressed down whatever officer had the nerve to ask such a thing in the first place. Head of the crime lab or not, he was still a detective with the respect that came with it and Mac had no problem throwing that weight around if he had to.

Of course, Sherlock providing him with a ready-made reason was probably due as much to the man feeling the need to explain his own desire to stay as much as actually offering a logical answer to a question that was likely never going to be asked. Mac, however, wasn't going to point that out because it really was all a moot point. Sherlock was staying and that's all there was to it.

"Of course," he simply said by way of agreement as he bent down enough to pull the metal mesh along the front of the fireplace out to ensure the embers stayed trapped inside. The last thing they needed was the entire place going up in flames. "You know," he said casually, looking briefly to Sherlock before turning his attention to the fire poker that Irene had used as a weapon against the zombies that had attacked her, "If you haven't taken the time to look at the Sherlock Holmes series, you should consider doing it."

He took a few quick photos then lowered his camera, tacking on, "It looks as though she thought it might be a good idea to see what Doyle's interpretation of her was, at any rate, considering that particular story is the one where she was introduced. And they do make for an interesting read."

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ifimnothungry
2012-02-15 01:39 am UTC (link)

There was a part of Sherlock who truly and wholly appreciated the change of subject even as he was kneeling next more than two feet from Irene's body, picking up the book that he'd spotted to turn it over in his hands. It had been spared most of the blood spray, lucky little book, so other than the few specks which were quickly drying on the cover, none of the text had been adversely affected. He could only hope that she would have been happy for that. "I've considered it," Sherlock said to Mac's suggestion. It was a curious thing, arriving somewhere only to find out that you were supposed to be fictional and centuries old, at that. But there had been absolutely no denying the similarity present between his and John's lives and that which the books seemed to detail even if the time period was wholly incorrect. "It just never proved to be essential to my understanding of this place." Not that Sherlock was against the idea of consuming fiction. He enjoyed a well tailored story as much as the next person while reading it even if he quickly deleted the details from his mind not long after completely one. It was just that filling his mind with details from the life of someone who was by all accounts himself just seemed to be asking for those things to plague him. And he'd had more than enough to deal with lately. After all, he still wasn't completely up to date on his own life's facts.

Flipping the text open, his eyes moved carefully over the first paragraph of text, a certain familiar, even with the archaic tone, in words written by Watson, a soft yet still somber smile gracing his features at the descriptions before he closed the book, deciding now was not the best time to test his own resolve in the face of emotions so extreme that they may have worked to overpower him.

Setting the book back down where he found it, Sherlock stood, turning his attention to Mac before asking simply, "Have you read much of it?" He'd never actually bothered to ask just how much his new colleague knew of him from the stories that weren't exactly his own life and legacy but still sounded close.

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