who sherlock & carol what solving crime where sherlock's home when early may warningsTRIGGER WARNING: serial killer-related imagery/discussion, alcoholism and addiction status complete!
Putting the past in the past was a decidedly difficult thing to do two times in a row. While California was meant to be a new start, Carol was terrible at letting things go, and naturally she hadn’t really been able to leave well enough alone. The result had of course been near cataclysmic, but not in the most regular sense of things. Aside from her growing powers and the unpredictability in her control of them, Carol was back to battling her own demons of addiction.
While her alcoholism was mostly under control at this stage, having passed the point where she recognised the problem and had at least addressed it, if only with herself, she was proud of her sobriety, and things that shook that were worrying.
Perhaps it was the reason why she felt so at ease in Sherlock’s home. There was not temptation, if only because he didn’t keep alcohol in the house, but also the understanding and support there. While she wasn’t a keen attender of the support groups in the area, she knew that some support was important, regardless of how capable she felt she herself was.
The distraction, while not entirely wholesome, was a welcome one. As much as serial murderers getting away with it could be welcome at least. But Carol found the action of sitting and going through things, trying to link up evidence or find a new lead, some new angle, it was calming in a manner that kept her mind off her wayward powers. And she genuinely enjoyed spending time with Sherlock regardless of what they were doing.
Despite some aspects of Carol being a walking trigger for him, Sherlock had not experienced any inward temptation to the darker underbelly of his past. Instead, he’d been drawn in its polar opposite and found a rather peculiar sense of contentment in being her confidante--in being her friend. Whether he entertained ideas on her even now didn’t matter, though he would vehemently deny it if asked by anyone else (apart from Carol), because they had a job to do.
An Orange County map had pins and string crossing over the same three cities in various colors. Sherlock had tacked it to the wall above the mantlepiece. The condominium had one, something he absolutely required when selecting from his father’s real estate investments in the area. It wasn’t two storied like the Brownstone, but it would do well enough in what he continued to believe was a temporary living situation.
Copies of case files were haphazardly strewn about the floor. The multiple sets of TVs were on, volume at a reasonable level for conversation, and each of them streaming information related to the case from YouTubers and recorded news reports.
He sat, legs crossed and hands atop his knees, staring at the map with the utmost scrutiny. He seldom saw cases with such a grotesqueness to them absent of substantial physical evidence tied to the killer. Pictures of the victims taken by the killer were lined up in order before him and paired with images left around various venues, crime scenes included, around Anaheim, Orange, and Santa Ana.
“In your line of work, certainly you’ve come across the term, ‘Internet Troll’, have you not?” Sherlock asked suddenly.
He lifted for display a particular picture of Steven Forman believed to be the first victim. His hands had been removed and arms repositioned as though to grasp at the screwdriver driven into his own heart. The words, “Look ma, no hands!” had been printed and taped onto a copy of a photograph found at the home of the presumed second victim. It was the only version of the image with a message, though the picture had been previously found in other places.
“I believe ‘Brutality Troll’ is more relevant at this juncture,” he decided, grimacing at the images. “It is decidedly difficult to believe this case was not solved prior to when it ran cold over three years ago, give the usage of social media, I would say it was borderline shameful if not for the peculiar degree of aptitude our murder possesses in evading detection.”
There never really seemed to be a limit to human cruelty; just when you thought you couldn’t see anything worse, someone came along to prove their own depravity and upend the whole thing. Carol had seen a fair amount of it, covering stories in New York, it seemed like there were people out there who just sat and tried to find new ways to hurt people.
The images before them were a further indication of just how twisted and cruel some people were, the acts that spoke of extreme violence and rage, but held a somewhat personal meaning under them. They were clearly driven by some need, a personal rage instead of a stranger just inflicting pain. “It’s a dire day when internet trolls become real world trolls.”
The typical internet troll was little more than a mean spirited teen or older, usually with poor social skills, who had mental difficulties with accepting that other people didn’t owe them anything. Usually they were safely behind the computer screen. Although the safety was relative considering the damage they could do with just their internet trolling and stalking. It was abhorrent what they felt they could justifiably do, and that the limitations in the law meant they weren’t prosecuted.
“The sad thing is that the cyber division in most cases are largely underfunded and undermanned, they tend to think online crime isn’t a crime.” Stalking, cyber bullying, internet trolls, they were constantly underestimated with the extent of their crimes. There was an entire subset of crimes that fell through the cracks. “I doubt it’s the typical internet troll, too high a degree of efficiency.” Because he (or she, but statistically male assailants were this violent) had evaded detection this much.
It was only a matter of time before that sort of behavior bled over. As far as he could see it, killers came in all walks of behavior in accordance to the times. This sort of use of social media was absolutely deplorable, but Sherlock saw it as simply inevitable. Mankind was, at its core, wholly predictable. The use of internet forums and the like would be the killer’s undoing, of that he held little doubt.
“Quite,” he agreed with a grimace, eyes darting every which way over the evidence in hand. “He knows his way around not only social media, but security systems as well. It suggests a degree of premeditation that is all the more troubling. Serial killers at their core are mentally useless to some extent, it was largely a coincidence of the limited technology of their day that inhibited their capture.”
As in all things, it wasn’t true across the board and Sherlock knew that. He was harshly critical of serial killers nonetheless, an advocate of the belief that media itself perpetuated them and, in a way, glorified them with nonsense monikers. People could be so easily swayed by the notion of notoriety.
“With his forays in different counties, it is safe to say he is a local of the OC,” he added, stroking the stubble at his chin in contemplation. “That he utilizes the phones of his victims, accounts included, provides some difficulty. One might say he’s pulling the perfect crime, but a fallacy will emerge. We will find it.”
As always, the more people got away with things, the more they made mistakes, they believed they were untouchable, that they were just that good, they’d get sloppy. Even the most organised of minds skipped things when things were going too well. Serials, on the whole, devolved so quickly that it was unusual for them to have long and bloody careers. There were the exceptions, of course, but more often than not they were caught or killed purely because they let something go. Carol didn’t believe it was a case of them wanting to get caught, simply that in their mentally unsound states they could not longer suitably fit into society as it was deemed polite to fit in.
“Some level of premeditation, yes. But all of his murder weapons are found at the scene.” Household tools, no kits brought, nothing foreign found. It would be difficult to walk around with items used in dismemberment too. “That speaks to a degree of opportunity,” like maybe he didn’t go out with the specific plan to commit murder, but the opportunity presented itself and like a moth to flame.
“There’s also a four year gap here.” Which might mean he wasn’t in the country or it might mean he was incarcerated or simply unable to commit murder. “Potentially from an unrelated arrest or hospitalisation?” Maybe someone noticed something, treatment could last anywhere from a few months to a few years, rehabilitation didn’t always stick either, she and Sherlock were vividly aware of that for entirely different circumstances.
“If he’s keeping the removed limbs,” which, gross, really. “There would need to be some level of preservation. Chemicals, cooling, something. Otherwise someone would’ve noticed a smell.” Who wanted their trophies to attract rodents after all. “I can put in some calls and see if I can get lists of people who bought or sold the usual stuff. Then I’ll dig into the unusual stuff.” But hopefully this guy wasn’t savvy in electronics and security and medicine. They were all valid points, astute, really. She required a degree less of guidance than Watson had when she first came into his life, but the reasons for that were apparent to Sherlock. Carol had experience with crime. It facilitated the process greatly, provided them a relatively common ground upon which to begin.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “There are multiple reasons for the lapse. Perhaps he moved, though I found no evidence of similar crimes in neighboring states. Incarceration is a possibility, perhaps the strongest one, although we are yet still left at the disadvantage of no viable DNA.”
From his side, he drew out the images of the original victim out of its file. Passing it over to Carol, Sherlock’s finger lingered on where the left big toe had been removed. “He’s gotten better, so I imagine he’s practiced on quite possibly animals. It is curious that he’s able to remove their limbs with what is around in the home, difficult to say if the victims were in possession of an axe of their own and it, along with the removed appendage was taken.”
Sitting back on his haunches, Sherlock stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “I believe a trip is in order to the records department of the Anaheim PD, peruse the arrests following November 13, 2012, hm?” It would be a great deal of grunt work, but Sherlock lived for this sort of thing, to see the most finite pieces of all the puzzle.
In all likelihood, if this was some preferential offender, he wouldn’t stop just because he wasn’t in his comfort-zone, he’d have just found a new comfort-zone, learned the area. Started again. It was fairly difficult to say with an incomplete profile on the offender, but it was more likely that he was forced to stop his killing than choosing to do so.
As much as Carol wasn’t terribly enthused about looking over the images again, severed limbs were never exactly tidy, and the growing cruelty with the dismemberment was just adding to that. “His lines are cleaner.” For all that he never seemed to go to one place with the express decision to commit murder, the element of spontaneity with the victims at the time, it was always possible that he did have some weapon with him to aid in the removals. “For someone that uses weapons of opportunity, he’s definitely learning what’s easier to use.” And how decidedly depraved was that? Efficiency with dismemberment?
“Possibly an arrest for breaking and entering, someone might’ve heard him before he really got his trade mastered, or he picked off more than he could chew and it was just taken as a home invasion instead of attempted murder. Or he was caught stealing anything that might help with keeping the limbs.” There were a lot of ors there that even Carol wasn’t comfortable with. The pattern in kills was strange, the period between murders even before 2012, and then the four years hiatus. “He went from a staggered killing pattern, over three years, to two kills in one month.” Something triggered some kind of acceleration.
With the enhancement of the killer’s skill but such a gap between known murders, Sherlock wondered how many had simply been overlooked. Could there have been some murders in which the murderer had been unable to take a trophy? There was always the possibility he’d been hindered before getting to make a kill that aligned with whatever internal schedule he had designed, but there existed the possibility, too, that he’d been forced to cut out early, too.
All the victims lived alone, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have guests staying over from time to time. Stroking the stubble of his cheek as he turned over the endless list of possibilities over in his head, Sherlock abruptly stood up and began stretching his limbs. He needed some tea and something inherently sour to recharge the synapses.
“Of which we are aware,” he agreed. “I am starting to wonder if there’s something else we’ve missed. I’ve another thought. Before seeing to those records, I’d like to visit the area the first victim was at prior to being killed. It is, however, not the most ideal establishment. Thus, I propose we split up in that regard.”
He demanded a lot of people without considering their circumstances. In Carol’s case, he wasn’t going to ask her to investigate a bar while she was on the mend. He also wasn’t going to prohibit her from helping him either, so the bar rested solely in her court.
“If that is alright with you,” he made sure to add, conscientious of as much. He made few concessions for people, but the ones he liked and respected got his own brand of special treatment.
There were certainly a lot of gaps, a lot of things that hadn’t been filled in. Potential for different victims with an interrupted ritual or just lack of items needed to perform the ritual. From the few serials she’d done in New York, Carol fully understood that it was the common trend that connected these victims enough to attach them to this offender, otherwise they’d just be unsolved home invasions. Or it could have nothing to do with that at all. It was very hard to say.
In some respects, with the length of time that had passed from the first set of murders, they were looking at a disjointed evolution too. Still, linking things up definitely made a lot of sense, trying to trace things backwards. “Um,” bars weren’t exactly the biggest problem for Carol, she knew her own triggers really and stress was the biggest factor in it. She could probably handle a bar, but… She had something to focus on, and this wasn’t just a passing something to ponder and move on, which was helpful at least. “Yeah, that should be fine.” Information, this was a key to this case, they needed more and details.
“I think I can find out from an old friend just how these cuts were made. If he’s using a weapon of opportunity to remove the limbs, all the markings should be different, they’re fairly similar, so he must have a preference.” It was a lot of grunt work, researching things that they should’ve had by now but were limited. But Carol was good at grunt work.
“Excellent, always good to reach out to experts,” Sherlock agreed. “I myself keep many at my disposal. I think perhaps I will also reach out to my hacker acquaintances, they are an invaluable resource despite their particular taste for requesting that I often reenact scenes from children’s films.” Although he didn’t appear to be chagrined by it at all, he did pause in contemplation. They had so much and yet so little to work with all at once, the case would hold his interest for a great deal of time.
“Please do, and know that, while the case does come first for me as justice is an absolute priority, your well-being is present in my mind. I know you are capable of looking after yourself, but you should know that. It matters to me, thus I will bend to whatever it is you may require,” as he finished, Sherlock had wholly averted his gaze. He wasn’t keen on displaying any form of vulnerability, social interaction wasn’t his strongest suit, but that was the easiest way to tell her that he meant his words.
His mention of his hacker friends had Carol’s eyebrows lifting, a strange thing to request but presumably they were just fairly juvenile in what they wanted to obtain from people. From what Carol knew of hackers, the ethical ones at least, they worked for a cause, not money. So really, payment would mean little to them.
Out of all the people she knew, Sherlock was probably the most considerate of her current battle and the most understanding. Addiction wasn’t exactly an easy war, but it was made a whole lot easier with those who understood the potential problems that might arise. “You know, in my dream world, when I went through all this, I had a lot of friends to help me. Support and ears to bend and… And a sponsor who’d been through it all before.” Tony had pretty much been the one to get her through it, even with the others and their support, it was Tony who was there day or night when Carol struggled. “You’ve pretty much taken up that role in the real world,” because offering his home whenever, providing plenty to keep her occupied, even just the subtle considerations for her well-being. “So, thank you, for your care and understanding.”
She could tell that it did take him a lot to show much in the way of concern. She didn’t believe it was because he didn’t care, which of course would mean she wouldn’t make too big a deal out of it. It was just very warming that he could be this brilliant with his work, and continue to demonstrate compassion for people.
It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world for him, the complex world of emotions. Facts and figures made sense. He could look at a dead body and discern the time of death and means of execution. He saw so much surrounding an isolated event, but the intricacies of day to day life, well, there had hardly ever been room in his attic for that. People wandered in and out of his existence that he never had the chance to properly learn it.
Joan had taught him as much as she could. Being in California with Kitty and gaining new connections, whether Carol or Kitty, had been just the thing he needed to carry on from the temptation of another relapse. Carol understood it. Befriending addicts perhaps might not have been terribly ideal, but he saw the merits in the act. No one could convince him otherwise.
“You, I’m sure you know, have exceeded my expectations of a person,” Sherlock responded. “It is not often a comforting notion to me that my help has gone beyond the boundaries of justice, but in this I am… well. It is my pleasure, Carol.”
He was just such a mystery. Carol honestly hadn’t been sure what to expect when they first spoke, she certainly hadn’t expected it to be just so important a development, professionally and personally. But this was the OC and stranger things had happened. “Well, I’m very glad of that.”
She knew it wasn’t a put down of any kind, he wasn’t insinuating anything in mentioning that his expectations had been met and surpassed, Carol knew that, so she didn’t take it to mean anything else at all. “Not quite what I would’ve expected when we first talked.” Considering the nature of the conversation and the direction it took, she certainly hadn’t been expecting a supportive friendship from it, or the encouraging working perspective either.
“Indeed not,” he agreed. Sherlock had been direct in expressing his attraction to her, of course. Although he fumbled with the general sense of normal conversation, he had no qualms with something that he considered purely superficial. Nevertheless, further interactions with her, actually meeting Carol face-to-face, she had shifted his perspective entirely, and continued to do so the more they met.
It was curious the way his friendships and relationships alike developed.
“But I am most grateful that it has turned out this way.” Smiles didn’t come easily for him either, but he summoned one up as best he could. The situation warranted so far as he could deduce. “Now! To see to my hackers… sit tight, I shall return posthaste!”