Don't Stray From The Light

You May Have Cracked The Code

"You look tired." Molly observed in a very preliminary way, almost as if she thought that would be a good way to start a conversation.
"I am tired." Sherlock agreed, sipping at his coffee so as to get a little bit of energy all while preparing himself to be mentally drained by the company he was now forced to keep. It wasn't just that Molly wasn't an ideal date, but she was also taking up the chair that should be John's, should his wife decide to leave him alone!
"What were you up to last night then?" Molly wondered timidly, for she was always so cautious about the romantic topics of conversation. It was obvious that she got jealous easily, and so when the very idea of another lover came into play she got a lot like Victor did, angry behind a mask of complete neutrality.
"What does it matter to you?" Sherlock teased, raising an eyebrow to which Molly just giggled, as if she thought she was somehow entitled to Sherlock's secrets and that he would just spill them all out for her as soon as he was done smiling.
"It's just small talk, Sherlock." Molly insisted with a grin, however she looked quite apprehensive as she looked down at the little notepad she kept with her at all times, in case she had any actual work to do.
"You're not seeing someone, are you?" she asked then, quickly so as to get the words out as painlessly as possible. Sherlock just shrugged his shoulders, sipping his coffee and taking a moment to think of how to phrase such a thing. He knew that if he agreed to seeing someone (which in this context would be true) Molly would had a thousand questions to just rapid fire at him, most he couldn't even answer due to the gender of his newfound lover.
"How I spend my nights really shouldn't concern you, Molly." Sherlock muttered, and with that he finished off the last of his coffee and held the empty cup to her. That was her job, after all. Molly looked rather disappointed; however she scampered off with the cup like she was supposed to. Sherlock took this moment of silence to crane his neck, looking back at John's table so as to make sure he was still there. To Sherlock's undeniable disappointment he saw Mary's confrontational blue eyes staring right back at him, glaring as if trying to accuse him of something he hadn't even done yet. And so Sherlock forced a smile and sat back against his chair, feeling rather defeated as he sat back and watched as Molly ran back with his coffee balance haphazardly in her hands. So maybe this morning would be wasted after all, for both Sherlock and John were weighed down by women who would not let them alone long enough so that they could get a full or even decent conversation in. A wasted morning indeed. 

John POV: John was forced to go to the office before he could even say hello to Sherlock, and he knew exactly the obstacle that was keeping them apart. Mary had now waged a one woman war against Sherlock Holmes, for whatever reason she seemed to see him as a threat to whatever they had now, whether it be the loss of marriage, or parenthood, or even peace and quiet! John had no idea what Sherlock had ever done to her, and yet Mary seemed to be holding a major grudge against the man, as if John had accidentally let it slide that he had spent the evening with Sherlock after all. He knew that she may have a reason to be upset with Sherlock; however that would only make sense if she could somehow see into John's brain. Mary had no idea the extent to which John's admiration stretched for that man, and for in some ways John knew that he didn't know either. All that he could tell now was that Sherlock was special, special in ways that couldn't described in logical words. John couldn't form his own emotions into words just yet, and if he tried to express them he would be sure to burst out screaming in some sort of irregular and rather terrifying way. For that was what he felt, deep down inside the pit of his stomach, screaming. Just screaming. And so that morning Mary prevented him from so much as glancing at Sherlock for more than a moment, he was able to watch the man come in but that was all. Mary snapped when he so much as turned his head to get his cup of tea that was sitting a little ways to his left, and she was constantly glaring over John's shoulder, as if trying to deter any glances from the other member of the guilty party. Why she was so obsessed now was beyond John, yet he had to admit it was getting to be a little bit annoying. He was a free man, was he not? He could do what he wanted, look at who he wanted, and talk to who he wanted and she was in no position to stop him. Although she scared him enough to give a very good impression of being in charge, and for the meantime John made a note to just play along. And so when it was time to go to the station he couldn't complain, he couldn't do anything to say hello to Sherlock because Mary was right there, and so instead he started off for a hansom and sat glumly inside as it began to roll down the street towards where Greg would be waiting. The only glance John was able to get of Sherlock in the end was one of the side of his head, the very last thing he could glimpse at before the hansom rolled away. It was a beautiful enough image to start his day off with, of course, and so in the end John still had trouble finding something to complain about. It had been a very odd night, and now that he was looking back on it as a sober man he recognized it to be even more peculiar than he first anticipated. Sherlock had been very friendly that night, and John had been considerably receptive to such actions. There had been face stroking, he remembered that quite vividly from the carriage ride home simply because his skin was still burning with the feeling of Sherlock's skin, the beautiful skin, so warm and so soft to the touch! John had been powerless that night to do anything but comply, to hold Sherlock's hand there and pray he wouldn't let go, and even now John felt the touch beneath his own fingers, even now! In all honesty it scared him, what had befallen the night before, for he didn't understand it. He had never met a man who was quite as intimate as Sherlock Holmes, never a man who was so open, and so mysterious at the same time. It seemed as though there was something about Sherlock that wasn't normal, it made him very much an outsider all while John almost suspected he appreciated it even more. It was an odd thing to think about, what could possibly make Sherlock different from all the rest, when of course there were so many different answers to such an enigma! Yet Sherlock had claimed that there was one flaw, one fatal disconformity that separated him from the rest, even more so than his dark sunglasses and scowl. It was odd to admit, however John had a wonderful time last night, despite the very odd factors that had gone into it. He had loved every moment with Sherlock, and every time he got to gaze upon such a man was a well spent second in his mind. There was something about Sherlock Holmes that enchanted him like nothing else, something that made him very nervous when he put his mind to it. It made him wonder why he liked Sherlock, and in what way that admiration might be expressed. When John arrived at the station he paid the driver and started inside, finding that all was a calm and as quiet as it was at nine o'clock in the morning. Janine was sitting at her desk, poking a pen around glumly as she stared at nothing. She never had anything to do, in fact John was quite sure the only thing she ever did was make coffee and talk to the people who sat in the waiting room. Why they even hired her was beyond him, however he was in no position to complain, for the coffee was always up to par. It was a lot less quiet in Greg's room, or at least it came to be much noisier when John arrived. Greg had been sitting there reading the paper, however as soon as John came in he jumped up from his chair in excitement, throwing the paper onto his desk and giving a great whoop of excitement.
"I've got it John...I've got the answer!" Greg exclaimed enthusiastically, looking so immensely proud of himself that John could barely remember what they were even trying to solve in the first place.
"What have you...oh the disappearance! Well go on then, let's hear it." John mumbled, falling into his chair in some exhaustion. He only wished that he could muster up some of the excitement that Greg was feeling, for his morning coffee seemed to have done nothing to wake him up at all. He had stayed up too late last night, and for a while he had just lay in his bed and pondered the whole situation, for what felt like years he thought of Sherlock Holmes and the night he had. Of course the idea that his morning would be miserable because of it had never even crossed his mind.
"Homosexuals!" Greg exclaimed excitedly. John blinked, and for a moment the air felt like it had been taken from his very lungs. The word hit him in the face with the force equivalent to that of a brick, and after a good thirty seconds of contemplating John was only able to force out one word.
"What?" he muttered miserably.
"Homosexuals, you know, men in love with men? Ghastly concept I know, however it makes sense, it's what we're looking for!" Greg exclaimed excitedly, sitting up on his desk with some urgency and glaring at John intensely. "Think about it. Mrs. Trevor claimed that Victor never loved her, that he was never intimate, never even interested in women! Well what that might allude to?"
"That he was interested in men?" John clarified, blinking away his slight shock at having heard such a word and recovering his brain just now. It made sense, didn't it?
"Of course! Well of course it's who we're looking for, who goes to brothels and doesn't spend time with women? Homosexuals. They're probably sitting there and looking for those who are just like them, drinking and trying to find someone who looks equally uninterested. It would be why they ran away from their wives; it would be why they were so keen on leaving in the first place! They were never happy, and so if they could run away with another homosexual they would certainly take that chance!" Greg said eagerly, nodding his head up and down as if he wasn't letting John think anything differently. This was the answer; despite Greg's pestering John knew it to be true as well. It would make sense, all the puzzle pieces that didn't seem to fit were suddenly miraculously piecing together, forming a mural with all the traits that had confused the police force for so long. A picture, and a vivid one, was beginning to form before their very eyes. What scared John was the fact that they were now looking for a man who loved other men, a man who was uninterested in women yet prominent on the romantic scene as well. A criminal, most likely, who was either harboring men or killing them, taking them away perhaps, without the intention of returning them to the town. A man who not only held his heart above the law, but his actions as well, someone who seemed to be a mystery until one string was pulled, unknotting the whole bundle and revealing what had been hidden inside. A disfigured heart, yet one that beat all the same. Something that ached and pulsed and worked just the same as a regular one, yet strained for the wrong people, yearned for the wrong gender, and was only satisfied by a touch that was already so familiar. It was a fearful in a way, and for some reason it sent a shiver of familiarity down John's spine. For whatever reason he felt almost as if he knew who they were looking for just as soon as Greg had pointed it out, it was almost as if he had known all along. Yet the name, or even the face, it was on the tip of his tongue yet it refused to be said now! It was more of a feeling, that was beginning to flame in his chest, something of fear that he could not yet recognize.
"It makes sense, but Greg how on earth are we going to find homosexuals around here? They're bound to be married, hiding in plain sight." John pointed out apprehensively, sitting forward and feeling the need to almost draw Greg away from this conclusion. John was deeply disturbed by the thought of a homosexual being a criminal in more aspects than just one, and when he thought of hanging the man for his crimes...well his stomach twisted nervously. It was almost as if he felt the need to defend the man who had deprived so many innocent wives of their husbands, who may just have killed men so as to keep their secret safe. And John felt defensive of the man? What was wrong with him?
"Well that's the trick, I guess. Somehow our kidnapper is finding them, and so what's to say that we can't as well? I mean we've got an advantage John." Greg said with a little grin.
"And that is?" John wondered apprehensively. He knew already that he wasn't going to like what Greg had to say.
"We're both men." Greg pointed out, his eyes gleaming as if he had a very, very bad idea in mind. John just blinked for a moment before finally shaking his head in exasperation, getting to his feet so as to put his foot down more promptly.
"I am not going to go out and flirt with men so as to find one who will flirt back. Greg that's obscene, not to mention illegal." John pointed out.
"Now stop that, we're the law, remember? And it's for official police work; surely you could struggle through it?" Greg insisted. He almost sounded as though he liked this idea, as if he thought it would be more fun than awkward and ultimately humiliating.
"Not a chance." John said flatly, shaking his head and crossing his arms so as to look sterner and contempt with his opinion. Greg got the message, evidently, for he sat back down in his chair and shook his head slowly.
"Well how are we supposed to catch him then? It's not like they list the homosexuals in the area." Greg muttered sadly, tapping his fingers against the desk as if trying to think of a better way to find the criminal without going under cover. John decided that would be the last thing they attempted, if all else failed then maybe he could be convinced to go with Greg's plan. Yet this hunt was going to difficult, for just because their suspect might be a homosexual did not make it any easier than if it was a heterosexual. It still posed the question of if it was one person or multiple, if there was kidnapping involved, or if it was all voluntary. In fact Greg's theory only provided them with an excuse to suspect men as well as women, and in a way it had only widened their search. Homosexuality was indeed one of the potential causes (and for now it was obviously the more convincing of the very few causes they actually considered) however it wasn't set in stone. They might still be looking for a woman who had fun preying on happily married men, that or a woman who lured the men out and killed them just for fun. There was a myriad of different possibilities, and the fact that Greg had only just now suspected a homosexual did not mean that the case was solved. It would take lots and lots of police work to continue this investigation farther, and yet there was still a part of John that warned him not to continue. It made him almost worry that there was something hiding that he didn't want to find, something he'd be much happier never knowing, never discovering at all.
"Well why don't we start with Mrs. Trevor, if she's still in town. Maybe then we could interview the other wives as well, just to see if they're willing to chat with us about the potential of their husbands being...uninterested." John suggested apprehensively.
"Well that will be a cheerful conversation I'm sure." Greg teased, however he didn't seem to have anything to protest. He instead looked as though he agreed with such a plan of action, for of course he understood that flirting with other men should be their last resort. Formal investigations were much more professional, and so when they grabbed their hats and jackets they told the carriage driver to take them to the house of Mrs. Trevor. It was a short yet well-known course by now, for John had been to the Trevor household once before to interview the poor woman. She was a vital witness really, not necessarily to the crime but to the aspects of her husband that were going to need to be investigated more thoroughly. John remembered that man, little Victor Trevor sitting with his newspaper in the café, seemingly minding his own business when John was looking around. He had always sat and watched someone, whether it be John, or Sherlock, or the passerby on the street, his blue eyes were always so curious. It was almost as if he was searching for a story, a flaw in the world that might hold the potential to write a story on. Now that John thought of it more closely, well homosexuality might be a very logical reason for Victor to always appear to be stalking people. He was interested, no doubt, interested in her fellow morning goers in a way that was deemed abnormal by the whole of society. Yet it wouldn't stop him, and it would seem as though it wouldn't stop most all of these men that had disappeared. And John pitied them, he really did. It was hard enough for someone with a heart like that to find a lover, and to fall into a person's arms only to have them strange you, or take you away from your home, well wasn't that just tragic in itself? These men went to the kidnapper maybe not because they loved him, but because he pretended to love them back. Maybe they felt as though they would never have an opportunity like this again, to find a beautiful man, and to find one that was interested in them as well! Maybe they were desperate enough to stroll right into the man's trap, simply because their hearts deemed it necessary. It sounded almost unfair, almost unjust, and to think that poor Victor Trevor had wandered into the same trap almost made John's heart pang in sorrow for the man, despite how meddlesome he may have been. No one, not even the most annoying men on the earth, deserved to be hurt by the ones they fully intended on loving.