InsaneJournal

Who: Roy Harper and Sherlock Holmes
What: Roy Seeks Out Sherlock for Assistance
Where: Sherlock's Office at the Hospital
When: Backdated: Sometime Before Christmas
Rating: Family Friendly
Status: Complete

Roy was currently working on a case that his team needed a little extra assistance on. Sure they had a coroner and everything, but this case called for someone a little more experienced, which was why he was currently seeking out Sherlock Holmes. From what he’d been told, Mr. Holmes was a pretty excellent Forensic Anthropologist and that was exactly what they needed for this case and the sooner they could figure it out and catch whoever had committed the crime, the sooner he could spend some extra time with his daughter and possibly Darcy during the holidays.

Sherlock was in his office at the hospital. The lab session for the day had ended and he was taking some time to grade reports. A large cup of coffee was the only other item on the desk, but it was rapidly growing cold as his focus intensified. For the most part, this semester’s students were a good crop, which meant he had to work a little harder to poke holes in their conclusions. How did one learn except by viewing their errors under a microscope, after all?

Roy was directed towards Sherlock’s office and headed there quickly. He’d heard about the man he was looking for and if he was as good as they said then it was entirely possible that he’d be able to help them with this case and finally close it. Reaching the office, he spotted the man’s name on the door, which indicated that he’d found the right one then knocked at the door and waited.

“You may enter…” said Sherlock, not lifting his eyes an inch from the papers before him. So many papers. Too many papers. He’d put in a formal request that the department switch to electronic records, if he didn’t feel that scrutinizing his students’ handwriting wasn’t part of his job. You could glean a considerable amount of information, some of it ‘red flags’, by how neatly someone closed their vowels or swapped between cursive and print.

At the sound of the man’s voice, Roy pushed the door open, first sticking his head inside then following with the rest of his body, “Sherlock Holmes?” If it wasn’t him then someone else was randomly using his office and Roy didn’t think that was how things were supposed to work, “I’m Roy Harper. I’m a detective with the Huntington Beach Crime Scene Investigation Unit.”

When Sherlock failed to immediately recognize the voice, he at last lifted his gaze. He knew he would find someone who didn’t work at the hospital or the school, which meant this man was either a patient, visitor, or outsider. Hm. Definitely not a patient and also not a visitor… When the man spoke, Sherlock was almost annoyed that he had beaten him to the punch by announced his profession. The game, quick though it was, was over.

“Yes… well, have a seat…” said Sherlock, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “Continue.”

Roy took a seat across from Sherlock and watched him for a moment longer before speaking, “We have a case that we’d like your help on.” He placed the folder he’d brought with him onto the desk. Inside were the reports on the case as well as crime scene photos.

“I assume you mean for some sort of… port-mortem examination?” For what else could they need him? Sherlock reached for the folder, knitting his brows a bit. This Roy Harper was young for a detective, which usually meant he was ‘connected’, but his demeanor suggested otherwise.

Yes, Roy was young for a detective, which he got a lot of flack about from some of the older, more veteran detectives, but he'd worked hard in the academy and in school to finish as quickly as possible and with the best scores so that he could make a living to support his daughter without the help of his parents. "That's one part of it. This case has been on going and we've come up cold. We're worried that if we don't catch this guy he's going to strike again."

Sherlock’s cool eyes moved back and forth over the pages in his hands like licks of icy flame. The case itself was ordinary at first glance and extraordinary the deeper he delved. A number of puzzle pieces still seemed to be missing. It was no mystery why it remained unsolved.

He closed the folder and placed it back on the table, close to Roy. He stared and blinked for a moment. “And why me?”

“We’ve heard that you’re a pretty excellent Forensic Anthropologist and hoped you might see something we missed.” Roy didn’t reach out for the folder just yet, simply sitting there and watching Sherlock. Roy was usually a pretty good judge of character, but this man was one big question mark to him.

“I am excellent,” Sherlock concurred with a sigh. His eyes had gone distant. His brain was busy weighing all the benefits to such an endeavor. The most important factor was that he’d been so bored lately. He needed a hobby, or at least a challenge.

The light in his eyes turned back on and Sherlock reached across the table. “Very well, I accept.”

Roy couldn’t help but smirk as Sherlock confirmed his excellency then watched the other man as he appeared to think about what Roy was asking. When he agreed, Roy’s smirk widened to a smile, “Awesome. Don’t know what we would have done if you’d declined.” Roy was hopeful that with Sherlock helping them they’d be able to figure out this case soon.

Yes, soon. Sherlock rose to his feet. “I assume you drove,” he said, walking to a coat rack on the wall and exchanging his white lab dress for his wool overcoat. The weather was still frigid.

Roy nodded as he got to his feet as well, “I did. You planning on hitching a ride with me?” Roy didn’t mind driving Sherlock over to see the body, well the remains, because it’d be a lot easier than having the man follow him since traffic was so crazy sometimes. If there was one thing that Roy didn’t like when he was driving, it was following someone or having them follow him, because he didn’t like having to make sure they didn’t get separated.

“I don’t drive,” replied Sherlock. He got by on public transportation and on foot. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how, per say; but he preferred not to carry a license. Most people who knew him wrote it off as one of his many ‘quirks’, as was walking briskly when he had somewhere to be, leaving others behind as though he’d forgotten them. In this case, it was Roy. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder, to make sure the man hadn’t fallen too far behind.