Experimenting for the Sake of Crime

Chapter 2

Sherlock barely noticed John standing shocked next to him. He barely saw how the surgeons and doctors tried to hold him when he tried to reach Mrs Hudson. He barely heard Lestrade shouting somewhere behind him.

He was only aware of the sound of his blood running through his veins, reaching every single and insignificant part of him. He felt it flowing in and out of his heart, getting into his brain and his lungs. He heard it rush in his ears.

The same way, his vision was blurred by blood red spots.

The ground under his feet started tilting sideways until he had to cling to the doorframe. Someone tried to help him, but physical contact felt extremely uncomfortable, almost painful, and he shook the person off, causing it him to fall to the ground.

He looked around, confused. He didn't know what all those people were doing in his flat. Where was John? Why wasn't he helping him?

"John?" he managed to say.

···

Sherlock Holmes woke up three days later.

He jumped off the bed and hurried to the kitchen, where John was sitting, holding a cup of tea and staring into the darkness.

"What happened" asked Sherlock, trying to hide the fact that he was still dizzy. John sighed and left the cup on the table perhaps a bit harder than necessary.

"You passed out" he informed him "Lestrade wanted to take you to hospital, but I told him that you just needed to rest" he made a small pause "I'm surprised you didn't go straight into your mind palace in the moment you woke up"

"I'll do it later" he replied in a quiet voice. He hesitated for a moment. "Thank you" said Sherlock, finally.

"What for?" asked John, surprised. Sherlock noticed some wrinkles around his mouth and eyes that hadn't been there before.

"For stopping Lestrade from taking me to hospital" he answered "It feels much better here".

"Yes, well. Sherlock, we need to talk" John moved his chair to face Sherlock.

"About what?" he snapped "If you want to talk about feelings, just go to your therapist". He got his coat and stormed out of the flat, leaving a very hurt John behind.

Sherlock's cab stopped in front of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. As usual, he didn't bother to knock on the door and Molly gasped in surprise when he came into the laboratory.

"Sherlock, you should be resting!" she cried.

"I don't need to rest. I need to know what happened" he replied "Do you have the forensic analysis?"

"Sherlock, I don't think –" she started to say.

"Do you have it or not?" snapped Sherlock, running out of patience.

"Well, yes, but –" Molly tried again.

"Then let's go" Sherlock opened a drawer and took the folder where he knew the analysis results would be. "The sooner we begin, the sooner we'll be done with it".

Molly took the folder off Sherlock's hands. She opened it and glanced through the many papers kept there.

"Oh, for God's sake" she cursed when several papers fell off and spread all over the floor. Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh. He looked ready to kill. "There's a new girl working in the lab and she's a bit of a mess. She must've messed this up; I left it quite tidy... But don't worry I know the results of the autopsy" she made a pause for Sherlock to talk but he didn't say anything. "It's quite basic. Death was caused by a single shot. The bullet went through the frontal lobe of the brain and it remained inside the parietal lobe. It caused massive internal bleeding and death was instant. She was shot from a distance of six or seven feet" Molly stopped for a second, and tried to analyse the expression on Sherlock's face. But he showed the same emotion he would if they had been talking about the weather.

"Is that all you've got?" he snapped "Where was the murderer standing? Were there any DNA remains in the crime scene?"

"The crime scene!" cried Molly "Good Lord, Sherlock. The crime scene is your flat! Doesn't that affect you the slightest?"

"Why would it affect me? She was my landlady" said Sherlock apathetically.

"Is that why you passed out when you –?" started Molly, before realising she had gone too far. By the moment she tried to apologise, Sherlock had just left. "Oh, bloody hell!" she clung to the edge of the table to stop her hands from shaking.

She lowered her head and clenched her teeth tight while warm tears streamed down her cheeks. She rubbed them off impatiently and asked the new girl to cover up for her during that day.

Sherlock, on contrary, hadn't finished his business at all. He looked through the medical reports he had sneaked out from the lab. The information was pretty much similar to the one given by Molly, though it included a few extra details that might come handy at some point.

He stopped a cab and told the driver to take him to the police station.

Lestrade walked to greet him as soon as he saw him coming.

"Sherlock!" he said, clearly surprised "Shouldn't you be resting? Where's John?"

"It doesn't matter. What do you have about Mrs Hudson's case?" he asked, without even bothering to say hello.

"Everything points to a burglary that went wrong. No locks had been forced, but there was an open window in the storage room"

"That window's lock has been broken for years. The door of the storage room was kept locked but the handle was old and rusty, easy to disassemble and assemble back" Sherlock spoke so fast that Lestrade had trouble understanding what he had said.

"Well, then" continued the Inspector after a moment "Clearly the murderer came in that way, and then left the same way. There's no sign of any stranger leaving 221B, according to the traffic cameras"

"Don't be ridiculous" said the detective. Lestrade glared at him, not noticing his mistake. "It's obvious it wasn't a burglary. Everything had been moved around, yet nothing was taken. Any ordinary thief would have taken the laptops and John's phone, which he had forgotten. Mrs Hudson was probably upstairs when she heard someone coming in and went to hide in the bathroom. A thief wouldn't have cared much, as she didn't see their face, and left her alone. But then again, they went straight up for her and killed her."

"So you're suggesting that someone broke into your flat with the clear idea of murdering an old lady. Sorry, Sherlock, but I don't accept that"

"How can you be so thick? Isn't it clear why they did it? They're trying to provoke me. Mrs Hudson has always been dear to me, and no one would try to harm her unless they were deliberately trying to make me angry" I'm being used as a Guinea pig, he added mentally.

"That would mean they're... trying you?"

"More like mocking me" corrected Sherlock "Or trying to, because it's not going to work" he let the papers he had stolen on Lestrade's desk "According to this, there was absolutely no evidence. Everything could have been done by a ghost. This is a professional working here"

"Do you think it's him? Do you think he's back?" asked Lestrade in disbelief.

"Well, he most certainly warned me about it" said Sherlock, with a strange smile on his face.

"Inspector Lestrade!" called someone from outside the office. "There's a parcel for you, sir"

"Good, thank you" said the detective, taking the package. He opened it carefully and held out a single flower: a white lily.

"The game is on" grinned Sherlock.