Mamihlapinatapai & Redamancy (Discontinued, may one day re-write but unsure :c)

Chapter 6 - Network

Warnings: Explicit talk of drugs.

When Holmes returned to baker street, Laurier in tow, Lestrade was sitting on the sofa with his legs crossed, looking rather unimpressed.
"Why is Mr.Laurier here, Holmes?" He questioned, squinting.

"He is here to aid me find Watson; if you must know. We are going to go undercover and find him ourselves." Holmes informed matter-of-factly as he pulled off his beloved Belstaff and made his way to his room with long, calculated strides.
The man got dressed into his usual den clothes, the ones he usually wore when he planned to self-medicate before trapping a second dirtied and old outfit and draping it over his arm.

He mussed up and made his way to the bathroom to rinse and somewhat wash the gel out of his hair, drying it off with a flannel and allowing the curls to go every which way it pleased.
The detective examined his appearance in the mirror, fixing any flaws in his dishevelled-looking appearance. 

Finally satisfied, he returned to the sitting room and tossed the clothing to Laurier.

"Go get dressed. We leave as soon as you are done." Holmes ordered, ignoring the way the other man scoffed and rolled his eyes as he walked past to the bathroom.
Holmes turned his attention to Lestrade, raising a brow.
"Do you have anything to tell me, or are you simply going to sit there?" Holmes snapped, glaring at the D.I.

Lestrade sighed, running his hands over his face as he sat up.
"No, Holmes. I was only going to let you know that we really do have everyone we can get on the case of finding doctor Watson on the job; it may just take some time due to how little evidence there is." The man said, moving to a standing position.

Holmes rolled scoffed, unimpressed.
"Wonderful; just another reminder of how utterly useless you are at your job, inspector," Holmes said with a frown.
Lestrade frowned, shaking his head.

"Listen, Holmes. You are acting in such a way due to Watson being gone, I know, but there is no need. We are going what we can." Lestrade promised as he turned and made his way out the door, only turning to give Holmes a sad, reassuring smile before disappearing. 

Holmes remained where he was, looking solemnly at the doorway.
He returned his attention to Mr.Laurier, who now entered the room, dressed in the clothes he had been given.
Holmes gave a satisfied nod and started for the door, making Laurier jog after him as he caught a cab.
They entered it, sitting on either side of the bench. Holmes gave the driver the address and rolled his eyes at the inquisitive look the man gave them but said nothing as he snapped the reins resting in his hands.

They arrived within a few minutes, Holmes paying as he quickly got out and rushed towards the run-down building that he himself had visited so many times.
He grinned as he saw one of his regular dealers standing in one of the doorways, smoking a pipe. The short man in the frame squinted, only to shift his posture and wave, a mischievous look on his face.

Holmes walked over, breathing deeply as he entered the same vicinity of the smoke.
"Ah, Mister Holmes. Cocaine or morphine?" The man shorter man questioned, leading the two inside.

"Cocaine, as much as you can supply," Holmes said, ignoring the shocked look on Laurier's face. The dealer gave a small nod, leading them to a room full of dirty mattresses and addicts who could not go home or did not have one.

Once at his own mattress, the man peeled back the top of it to reveal his shop-like stash of illegal substances. He picked up two of the larger things in stock, one a large bag, the other a large bottle, each containing 1 cup, or 8 ounces, of cocaine.

Holmes nodded towards the bottle.
"I'll take three of them." He said, ignoring the way his dealer stared at him, horror in his eyes.

"Erm... listen, Mr.Holmes, I know you're not stupid enough to take it all at once, but I can't have your blood on my hands. This is enough to kill even you after an extended time..." The shorter man said, squirming uncomfortably.

Holmes sighed and rolled his eyes, bulling his wad of money from his pocket.
"Then I suppose all this can go to someone else? I have other dealers, you know. If you cannot provide what I need, then I shall go to someone who can." Holmes spoke calmly as he played the mind game.

The dealer bit his lip, eyeing the cash in Holmes' hands.
"Fine, but you cannot kill yourself with this." The short man huffed, handing over three bottles of liquidized cocaine and taking the money.

Holmes grinned, nodding.
"Besides... it won't be my blood on anyone's hands..." He trailed off, turning on his heels as Laurier glanced at the now-shocked dealer before following the detective out of the den as he shoved the drugs into his large pockets.

"I thought we were to be getting information?" Cried Laurier, confused and slightly upset.

"We are." Holmes confirmed, "Just not here."
He caught them another cab, having the cabby drive them to a different location, nearly halfway across London.
When they got out, Holmes once again had Laurier follow him into a, slightly smaller, run-down building.

This one was a little cleaner, a little more organized in its bed placings than the previous one, and this time Holmes found a woman around Mr.Laurier's age.

"Oh! Is that you, Holmes? Hullo, hullo, what can I do for you?" She asked, giggling off of her high.

"I need information on Alexandria Mattel. Who did she buy from, and where can I find him?" He questioned.
The woman before them giggled, shaking her head.

"Ask, ask, ask..." She chanted, humming softly as Holmes waited patiently for her delusions to break slightly so she would make sense.

"Ask Oliver... second floor!" She sang, clearly off her rocker as she spoke.

Holmes gave a curt nod and tugged Laurier upstairs by his wrist, off to find this Oliver fellow that supposedly would have information for them.
Once they reached the top step, they were greeted with a completely open floor, mattresses arranged in rows, just as they had been downstairs.

"Oliver!" Holmes called, ignoring the many groans of disapproval that sounded as he called out, a smirk crossing his lips as he watched a man sit up, rubbing his eyes with his fists and call out a drained "Wha'?"

Holmes made his way to the lanky man, whose face was absolutely caked with dirt and sweat from sleeping in such a filthy place. 
"I need information about the man that Alexandria Mattel bought from; I'm interested in what he's selling," Holmes said as he crouched down to whisper to Oliver.

The thinner fellow shook his head.
"No' a good idea, mate. He's go' a web, y'see. Don't do well with strangers..." Oliver sighed.

"Then can you at least give us his name so I can make the choice for myself?" Holmes questioned curiously, earning a concerned look from Oliver.

"Alrigh'. But if ya' ge' yerself int'a trouble, I ain't takin' the blame." Oliver said in his thick, odd-sounding accent.
Holmes gave a nod, waiting patiently for the name as Oliver sighed and shook his head in dismay.

"The name's Steven Adonis, bu' people usually call 'em Sinoda, y'know, keeps the profile low," Oliver informed with a yawn.

"Do you have any idea where I may find this man?" Holmes pressed, earning a shake of the head from Oliver.

"Nah, bu' if you go to the north side o' big ben, I got a lass there, real swee'eart, she is. Name is Clemence Floris, jus' tell 'er that Ollie sent ya', and she's bound to help ya'." Oliver hummed with a small, dreamy smile.
"If she ain't there, then 'er friend Capa oughta be there- She'll lead ya' to 'er." He promised with a nod.

Holmes smiled and passed the man a few pounds, shaking his hand quickly.
"Thank you for your help, sir." He thanked, standing quickly and rushing back outside, coaxing a groan from Mr.Laurier's lips as he ran after him, beginning to feel very sympathetic for the man they were supposed to be found.