GUYS TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF SHERLOLLY APPRECIATION WEEK!
THIS IS MY GIFT TO YOU!
Damn I love this ship.
Anyway, this one is just the detective taking the pathologist through the old thought process, but with a twist. Recommended by megsfry . Enjoy and happy shipping!
••••
Breaking News!
Man found dead in his apartment at 11:07 this morn-
~~
The television flicked off. A figure sitting cross legged turned toward the smaller figure next to them.
"Would you look at that," they said with a sigh, "looks like I'll have an exciting day, wouldn't you think?"
//
The figure, clad in a long black trench coat, was prepared to step over the yellow police tape when an officer stopped them.
"Ah, sorry, you can't be in-"
"The freak's with me," came a sigh. The figure turned their head and gave a dip of their head.
"Donovan."
"I'm only letting you in because Lestrade wants to see you," Donovan said with a sigh. The figure opened their mouth to speak but the officer interrupted them, "don't make me change my mind." The figure smirked and brushed past Donovan, who watched with narrowed eyes.
They climbed the yellow-taped steps of the apartment until coming to the one with the body. Lestrade gave a small sigh of relief.
"You're here," he said, "go in, the pathologist already is in there." The figure raised an eyebrow but nodded, stepping into the room only to find another person in a white lab coat hunched over a face-down body.
"Holmes," the figure in the trench coat acknowledged curtly. The pathologist inhaled sharply and turned around, the quick motion making his loose curls bounce. Sherlock Holmes smiled brightly and clutched his clipboard tightly to his chest.
"Hi, Molly," he said brightly to the figure in the trench coat. Molly Hooper blinked her reply, her cold gaze quickly turning to the body on the floor.
Sherlock hid the disappointment that flashed across his face as Molly crouched to closely examine body. "What have you got for me, Holmes," she said.
Sherlock cleared his throat, his wide blue eyes peering down at the clipboard, "o-oh. Right. This is Finnegan Pike, 37, GSW to the chest. Based on the stiffness of his jaw I'd put time of death at about 6:45 this morning. He was on his way to a meeting down in Sutton but never showed. The landlady found his body here at around 8:00 this morning."
Molly nodded, "have they located his car yet? It's down on Carshalton Beeches."
Sherlock blinked incredulously, "h-how could you tell?"
Molly pointed at the body's shoes, "when I arrived I saw no car being surrounded by officers and yellow-tape. Do you see that white on the bottom of his shoes? They're doing construction on Carshalton Beeches using that same type of concrete. He must have parked near the site and walked down to this apartment complex, or else how would he have that concrete on his shoes and end up here?"
Sherlock nodded, his eyes wide. "That's amazing," he whispered under his breath.
Molly angled her head towards the pathologist but didn't look over, "what was that?" She asked.
"Nothing!" Sherlock exclaimed, his eyes wide and a small blush beginning to spread on his cheeks. A small smile turned up the corners of Molly's lips but she continued examining the body.
"His nails," she suddenly thought out loud, "why are his nails so dirty?"
Sherlock blinked, "sorry?"
"Look at how clean-shaven he is, at his perfectly trimmed hair. This man obviously keeps a routinely hygiene process, but why would he leave his nails so dirty?"
Sherlock opened his mouth, then closed it, running a hand self-consciously through his wild, ebony curls. His eyebrows furrowed as he said the first words that formed on his lips, "so what- you- you like guys with perfectly trimmed hair? Because I can totally-"
Molly ignored the question, pointing at the body's pocket. "Look," she said, "his keys, wallet, and phone are in his right pocket, most likely to shield them from the drizzle this morning. But if he was walking here from Carshalton Beeches the rain would have been angled at him towards the right. With a businessman like the one we have here he would be very close to these three particular items and self-consciously would have switched pockets to avoid damaging them. So, Sherlock, why are his nails dirty?"
The pathologist blinked, staring at Molly with wide eyes, "sorry. What?"
"His nails are dirty, his belongings were in the wrong pocket, and there is concrete on his shoes from Carshalton Beeches which is nearly a half a mile away from where we are now. Think about it, Sherlock. All of this can be answered with one simple question."
Sherlock leaned in closer to the brown haired detective, "and that question is?"
"What street is Carshalton Beeches nearest to?"
Sherlock leaned back, raising an eyebrow. "If I remember correctly Carshalton Road, right?"
Molly nodded, "obviously. And does Carshalton Road ring any bells? Any major incidents that happened there at 6:30 this morning?"
Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed, then realization spread across his face. "The convenience store robbery gone wrong. The robber ended up having to kill the three people in there and escaped. But they caught the guy, right? What does that have to do with this?"
The smile on Molly's face was bright as she answered, "everything, Sherlock. Everything. Would you like me to explain?"
Sheepishly the pathologist nodded, "yes please."
Molly shook her head, "no need for that look, you've done wonderfully. Now listen. They thought there was only three people in the store at the time of the robbery. But, what if there was four? What if our Finnegan Pike, on his way to a business meeting, stops to pick up a small breakfast. He walks into the store and moments later our shooter comes in. Finnegan immediately goes down on all fours when he sees the gun, sparing him from the shooters gaze, though the others aren't so lucky. He crawls out of the store while the shooter is busy, hence the dirt under his nails, and tried to escape the store without being seen by the shooter. Unfortunately, this is not the case.
"The shooter sees Finnegan and follows him out. It's drizzling, though Finnegan is in a rush to leave and doesn't bother to switch the belongings in his pockets. He walks right by his car when he notices he's being followed for fear it will stall him and nebulously keeps walking, accidentally stepping in half-dried concrete on the way, until he comes to this apartment complex. He doesn't see the shooter behind him so he jumps in here and climbs the steps, but when he realizes he hadn't lost the shooter it's too late."
Sherlock stared at Molly, his mouth hanging open. "That was bloody brilliant. And you got that all off his shoes, nails, and phone? Incredible!" Molly smiled, though blinked in surprise when Sherlock suddenly bear-hugged her as she stood. The pathologist, however, almost immediately backed away, a blush on his face.
"Sorry," he muttered, "I got excited."
Molly smiled, "it's quite alright. Now, would you like to announce we've solved it?"
Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, holding the door for the pathologist as she left the room.
"Did you really not know what street Carshalton Beeches was nearest to," Sherlock asked as they left. Molly grinned, shrugging.
"Of course I did, but it'll be our little secret, alright?"
Sherlock smiled, looking down at his feet as a small blush tinted his cheeks. "Alright."
"And Sherlock," Molly looked behind her shoulder, her pony tail swaying against her back. Sherlock looked up as the detective smiled, "keep the hair the way it is. Untamed."
•••
D- Do ya get it? It's supposed to be like a role switch. Dunno if it came out that way 😅. Any way have a good SAW everyone!