The Genius (A Sherlock FanFic) [COMPLETED]

Chapter Eleven

Arriving at Scotland Yard, Sherlock and John were greeted by a flurry of feet running around the office, numerous sounds of ringing phones, and a symphony of cacophonous voices.

"We need all hands on deck! Everyone, let's get these scenes examined and these bodies processed! And for god's sake, can someone call bloody Sherlock Holmes!" Lestrade yelled in desperation to his staff.

Sherlock and John walked over to the scrambled man. "Oh! You're here. Good." Lestrade said, relieved.

"What's happened?" John asked, still confused about the hectic scene happening around him.

"After you left the crime scene, we got numerous calls about dead bodies in parks all over the city. Upwards of ten."

"God," John said, shaking his head.

"Any leads?" Sherlock piped in.

"Not yet, the calls were anonymous again and untraceable. We're sending all available units to check out each crime scene. I could use your-"

"You may find that they're all quite similar," Sherlock interrupted, "Is Heather here?"

"Heather? No, haven't seen her since the crime scene. Wait, what do you mean by-"

"Thanks, Grant. Always a pleasure. Come along, John," Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder and ushered him away from the dumbfounded Lestrade before he could respond.

"Wait," John protested, "what do you mean by 'they're all similar'? How could you know? We haven't even been to those crime scenes yet!"

"I know because of..." Sherlock raised his hand in anticipation of their approach to a door that said "Evidence Room", opened it, and pointed into it, "her."

Heather was standing in front of a box of evidence and rifling through it. She paused when she heard Sherlock's voice.

"How did you-" John began.

"She wasn't anywhere else in the precinct, so where else would she go to find out where that bullet came from?" Sherlock said plainly. "And," Sherlock began as he strode over to Heather, "she knows that this has happened before."

Heather quickly snatched a file from the box then put it back on the shelf, "How quick you are, Sherlock," she said in almost a mocking tone.

"What's so important about this case? What do you know about the bodies that are turning up?" Sherlock probed.

Heather paused, looking a bit struck by what he said. She resumed her movement by casually slipping the file under her coat and crossing her arms to hold it in place, "I know enough to pursue it on my own," Heather put her hand up at seeing Sherlock open his mouth to speak, "and I don't have time to share." Heather hurriedly walked over to the door with great purpose and a furrowed brow, passing a suspiciously silent Sherlock.

"Now, just wait for one second," John protested, hand out in front and looking ready to physically stop Heather from exiting through the door behind him, "I, for one, would like to know what is really going on here, considering that we've been running around the city, basically following you, a woman that we've only met today I might add, at your every whim, not knowing what the hell is going on with this case, which is only growing more severe by the minute!"

Heather's perked up at the last part of John's sudden outburst, "What do you mean more severe?"

"There's more bloody bodies turning up at more parks around the city!" John exclaimed, emphasizing that urgency of the matter.

"Upwards of ten," Sherlock chimed in, staring at Heather. She glanced at him with wide eyes, breath elevated.

"I have to go, please," Heather said with desperation laced in her voice. She quickly moved past John before he could protest again, shoving him out of her way.

John turned to stop her but felt a hand on his shoulder, "Don't, John. Let her go," Sherlock said calmly.

"And, why, Detective Sherlock Holmes, should I even consider doing that?" John's anger at the whole situation was spilling into his spiteful words.

"Because she's going to lead me to the answers that we need, for both this case and for who she is," Sherlock stated.

John's face turned from one of rage to one of curiosity, "So you're going to follow her?"

"Precisely," Sherlock looked over to the door that Heather had left open, which was filling the room with the busy sounds of a police station with a dead body epidemic on their hands. "And you," Sherlock said, "are going to stay here and help Gavin."

"You mean distract him," John said knowingly.

"Precisely, I can always count on you, John," Sherlock gave him a wide, fake smile and left without another word. John sighed deeply, knowing that he was going to have to explain to Lestrade why Sherlock had just abruptly left them, and knowing that it wouldn't go over well.

Then, John remembered the box that Heather was searching when the pair had arrived. If anything, I can at least find out what's in there, maybe get ahead of Sherlock for once, John thought. He smiled at the idea.

John opened the box and began to search its contents. "Oh god, Heather," he exclaimed quietly as he was reading all of the files, piecing it all together. The mystery was unravelling right before his eyes but he was clueless as to what would happen next.