Love is a Much More Vicious Motivator (Teenlock AU)

Chapter 12

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry this is so late and so short and so meaningless. I'm not going to make excuses, but please understand that writers' block is a terrible thing.

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All my love,

~The Effect

***

"Are the twins still suspects?" John and Sherlock had returned to their room, and Sherlock was sprawled over his bed, surrounded with books and pieces of paper, with his notebook settled by his head on the pillow, curly locks tickling its surface.

"Iveta is a slight possibility, but Svetlana is impossible." Sherlock said, gangly limbs not moving in the slightest.

John raised an eyebrow. "So how many suspects are left?"

"Five. One male, four female."

John arched his eyebrows even further. "One male? Who?"

"Kelly Morris. He has a little possible opportunity, which is more than most do. Iveta said she passed him on her walk, and given his walking pace compared to hers, the balance of probability states that Kelly was heading for the main building when she passed him."

"Kelly! Really? You think he's capable?" John was incredulous.

"Oh, he's capable. I just don't know why he'd do it, given his family..."

John didn't ask what Sherlock meant by that. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"He's the first one I want to see."

"You want to interview him? Like with Scarlett and the twins?"

"Yes, John." Sherlock sounded exasperated. "Fetch him."

"Sherlock, it's early, and it's Kelly, and I'm not running halfway across the school to piss off my teammate so you can conduct some interview that you won't explain to me."

Sherlock cocked his head, his reaction caught between sanctimonious and hurt. "I do explain myself. And he's my teammate too."

"No, you don't. And you're missing the point. if you want to interview him so badly, go and get him yourself." John folded his arms as Sherlock's expression rapidly changed from taken aback to icy. He narrowed his stony eyes.

"Fine. I will." Hooking his coat from where it was strewn across the bed, he whirled past John and out of the room.

"Wait, Sherlock!" John hurried after him. "You realise what kind of mood Kelly will be in if you wake him, don't you?"

"Perfectly. And I don't care." John raised his eyebrows.

"On your head be it." John muttered, though he dutifully trotted along beside Sherlock along the corridor to room 210b. John knew that Kelly was one of the few people to have a single room, given his roommate had left the school and was yet to be replaced.

Sherlock raised his hand and knocked crisply three times. There came a series of choice curses from the other side. John braced himself.

The door was yanked open to reveal Kelly, dressed only in a towel looped around his waist. His hair was sticking up in tufts, still damp, and he had a little shaving foam under his chin and left ear. He also had a long, shallow cut on his jawline, apparently from a razor, funnelling a narrow stream of blood down his face. He fixed the two at his door with a glare filled with promises of agonising pain.

"This had better be good."

~~~

"So why did you go for a walk, when you aren't a habitual walker, on the night of Laura's murder?"

"I told you! I was hot, it was stuffy in here, I needed to get out for a few minutes. Is that a crime? James and Iveta were out, too. And Chris! There's no way I could even get into the girls dorm, never mind kill someone and get back out again one hundred percent unnoticed. It's a ridiculous accusation."

Kelly had put on a thin dressing gown to cover up, but seemed particularly angry at being interrupted. That said, he was answering their questions relatively helpfully, only getting indignant when Sherlock tried to pick holes in his alibi.

"Hmm." Sherlock growled.

John leaned against the doorframe and marvelled at Sherlock's inhuman grace as he prowled the room, pouncing on every slight slip in Kelly's alibi like a tiger with its prey. Not that there were many. To John, the guy seemed pretty genuine, getting flustered as Sherlock's circling began to close in, but the flaws in his alibi weren't showing up.

Sherlock just took it all in, pacing around the room with lithe elegance. Everything was filed away where he could use it later. It would seem that the rugby captain was innocent. Funny, how much one interview could show to him.

Sherlock circled once more, taking in the book on the nightstand, and his preferred plug socket to use, and his phone, and the lamp, and the books on the desk.

"We're done here. John." Sherlock tugged open the door and disappeared through it. John was startled.

"Thanks for your time, Kelly. Sorry about him." John took off in pursuit. Kelly just shook his head, and returned to the bathroom.