Jam, Hedghogs, and a Sonic Screwdriver

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

                It was nearly 4:00 in the morning by the time John and Sherlock reached the body. There was already a significant commotion around it. Sherlock strode up to the body like he owned the whole world, which in his mind, he did.

                “Stand aside, this is a crime scene, not an exhibit,” Sherlock said walking up the body.

                “Hold on, who are you?” said a middle aged man with a full beard but thinning hair. He barely came up to Sherlock’s shoulder.

                “Don’t talk to him in that insulate tone,” John said, “Don’t you know who this is?” The man looked slightly taken aback, he did not seem accustomed to being talked to like that.

                “This man is the lead inspector of her Majesties royal service. He is the great Sherlock Holmes,” the man looked even more taken aback, though some of that subsided when Sherlock flashed the psychic paper at the man.

                “And you sir,” said Sherlock with a grateful smile at John, which disappeared when he turned back to the man, “You are obviously in a position of authority, a detective inspector, if I’m not mistaken. You’ve worked as a constable for 18 years. You have a wife, who you rowed with earlier today and she threw something at you, ah yes, an ink bottle. You’re trying to cover part of the stain on the pants leg with your jacket, not very well I might add. You have a daughter, a son, and two small dogs, no doubt the yappy kind. Did I miss anything?” Sherlock said, eyes narrowing. John pretended to be scratching his nose but really he was hiding an ever growing smile.

“How did you know?” the man stuttered.

“I don’t know, I notice, now if you would be so kind, I’d like to get on with my job,” Sherlock said crouching down next to the body, “Who was she? Or at least, who do you think she was?”

“Mary Ann Nichols, she was found by P.C. John Neil. Several people have come forward to state that she was a prostitute, and she boarded at 18 Thrawl Street. Her friend, a Ms. Emily Holland, said that she saw her at 2:30 and she was very drunk. Furthermore, she was reported to be in the company of a man about twenty minutes before she was found.”

“Idiotic,” said Sherlock, before turning his full attention to the body.

“Don’t worry, he says that to everyone. Dr. John Watson, I assist Mr. Holmes,” John said shaking the man’s hand.

“Detective Inspector Edmund Reid, and he was right, about me, how did he know?”

“Again, I don’t know, I notice,” Sherlock retorted from the ground.

“Sherlock, that is bordering on a catch phrase,” said John.

“John.”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Shut up. I need you to be useful, not trying to be witty. I need a doctor’s opinion.”

“You mean…” said John pointing in random directions.

“No not him, an actual doctor John. What do you think?”

“Well,” said John crouching next to the body, “She was dead within ten minutes of the first cut. The attacker grabbed her around the neck pulling her back to him. Where you see these bruises, which of course you do, they’re finger marks. He then made two slits on either side of her neck, severing the blood vessels in on both sides,” John paused for a moment, then continued, “He started the cuts on her abdomen and on her right side after she had started to bleed out,” John concluded somberly.

“Not nearly as useless as you used to be,” said Sherlock with a smile at John, then he turned back to the body, “These shoes didn’t belong to this woman, they are new, but made to look old, they’ve been scuffed artificially, no person walks that way. Also, the soles are worn in a way that would make it seem like this woman has bowlegs, when she clearly,” Sherlock lifted up the woman’s skirt, much to the shock of the onlookers, “does not. As for her hair, there is significant coating of dirt nearer to the ends, but none near the scalp, meaning the dirt was added,” he paused again. John had seen this look on his face before, he was thinking, this does not add up, “And the teeth, these teeth were pulled, crudely, you can still see the scarring on the gums. This woman was not a prostitute. And she wasn’t drunk when she was murdered.”

Reid’s amazed silence was broken at that moment, “But that can’t be, at least ten people have already come forward to say they saw her trying to,” he paused, “Sell herself,” he said in almost a whisper.

“Inspector,” Sherlock said getting up and squaring up to Reid, “Witnesses are idiots. They are unreliable and their observations are not nearly as good as mine. I trust what I see more than your, witnesses,” he said with a note of disdain. “Feel free to write a report based on my observations, I would be doing this woman a favor, your incompetence would only serve as an insult to her memory. I’m sure you will be seeing me, London’s finest needs all the help they can get,” he said with a sweeping glance around the scene, “Just out of curiosity, are there any Lestrades in your family?”

“Why yes,” said Reid a little surprised, “It is my daughters fiancée’s surname.”

“Indeed,” said Sherlock with a smile, and then he turned to John, “We best go find our friend,” and without so much as another word to the shocked Reid, Sherlock turned and started walking down the street. John followed, quickening his pace to keep up with Sherlock.

“So, what didn’t you tell them, I know you saw more than you let on?”

“Yes, of course I did. There were partial foot prints in the mud of the leading to and from the woman, a man’s. She was not in the company of a man, he simply walked up and killed her. She didn’t fight, hmm curious. And she had time, the amount of bruising means that the man was holding onto her for a long time, at least a minute. He blade was dull, but intentionally so, and was wielded with some skill. He knew exactly how the blood would spatter and avoided getting any on himself. He let her fall to the ground, again careful not to get blood on himself. He then crouched beside her, and made the incisions on her abdomen. The cuts were slow. And there were fibers in the wounds, other than the ones from her clothes, which were cotton. The fibers were from silk,” said Sherlock pulling a plastic bag out of his pocket with a single bloody fiber in it.

“But how? Knives don’t just have fibers on them?”

“Not unless they have been wiped with a cloth. If we can find where the cloth came from just maybe…” John could see the wheels in Sherlock’s head whirling.

“And wait…I didn’t even see you take that,” John said in amazement.

“I am excellent at knicking things. Years of practice pick pocketing Mycroft,” Sherlock and John both chuckled, “And now to find our dear friend the Doctor, so we can get to the next crime scene.”

Sherlock vs Jack the Ripper

Chapter 4

                John emerged onto a cobblestone street just after dusk. He stared around in amazement, there were no skyscrapers to combat the view of the sky, but that hardly seemed to help. The air seemed so thick with smoke and ash that looking at the stars seemed to be a useless venture. It looked like a slum, and John had seen many. He could see where good intentions had turned to overcrowded tenements, where hopes and dreams of something better had become a grim reality. There was a rather revolting odor, that John had no desire of discovering from whence it came. He noted several violations of basic sanitation; perhaps he could help these people. And then his thoughts brought him back to the reason that they had traveled through time and space. John was not used to just standing by and allowing people to suffer and die.

                “So, we can save these women? We know the dates and locations of each attack,” John asked.

                “No,” Sherlock retorted without even looking at John, “I’ve come here to solve the murders, only to solve them.”

                “Sorry?” he said looking from Sherlock to the Doctor, “You save people, it’s what you do,” John said savagely.

                “John,” said the Doctor with a sympathetic look in his eye, “Time is in flux, but there are fixed points. There are things that can never change, things that I cannot interfere with. John, I know this is hard, but these women must die.” John was speechless, this man, this man who would flip the world upside down to save someone innocent, wouldn’t lift a finger to save these women. The Doctor sensed John’s apprehension, his rising anger, “There is a purpose far greater and more important than we can see John Watson, and if, if you have the gall, the impudence to tamper with certain aspects of time, if you dare to play God,” a smirk crept across his face, “Well, then you get Winston Churchill as the Holy Roman Emperor and cars attached to hot air balloon, which believe me, is not as aerodynamically sound as it may seem.”

                “Says the man who flies a box,” Sherlock said still taking in every aspect of his surroundings.

                “Oy, I could leave you here, but I don’t think it is morally right to inflict you on these good people,” the Doctor said winking at John. There was something in his eyes that somehow put John at ease. He didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t understand how a moment ago he could be so angry with the idea that innocent people should die, and now he was at peace with the idea that it must happen. The Doctor knows best.

Sherlock vs Jack the Ripper

Right people, be gentle, it’s my first go on tumblr. I’m going to try and do this in installments.

“John, pen now.” Sherlock said, not looking up from his papers. “John, time is of the essence here, so if you wouldn’t mind moving your body a bit faster than your brain, thank you.”

“You know he left about an hour ago,” came a familiar voice from the corner of the room. Sherlock hadn’t even heard him come in, and usually there was a fair bit of noise when he entered. Only this mans presence could have pulled Sherlock away from this case, it was riveting, and that was such a rare thing for him to encounter these days. Although the experiences he had with this man were always something rare and exciting, if not incredibly dangerous.

“Right so, I’m afraid time is a bit of the essence this go round. Made a promise to River, and if I’m late…Well best not think of that. Right, where to. All of time and space.” The Doctor said as he made a grand sweeping motion. Sherlock looked quizzically at the man for a few moments, and then returned his attention to the pile of papers on his desk.

“Doctor, stop touching my skull. John’s dropped it several times and if you would care to notice there is a crack approximately 2 centimeters to the right of the ramus on the mandible. One more fall will be enough to completely dislodge it, leaving me with an incomplete skull.” Sherlock saw the Doctor move again out of the corner of his eye, “Don’t.”

“It could help.”

“No, the last thing you soniced blew up, and I was very very fond of that violin.”

“Well, sonicing wood is tricky,” the Doctor tucked his screw driver back into the pocket on the inside of his jacket.

“I thought it didn’t do wood, and by the way, what on earth is that on your head?”

“It’s a fez, they’re cool.”

“It’s awful, I’m surprised River lets you wear it out. And congratulations on the wedding.”

“Thank you,” the Doctor paused, “How did you know? Oh never mind, we don’t have time for that. Where are we off to this go round?” He said rubbing his hands together.

“Perhaps at a later time, I am busy.”

“It was the butler, you’ll find what your looking for under the stair case. There, sorted, not busy now.” He noticed Sherlock giving him an incredibly annoyed look, “Wibbly wobbly timey wimey, trust me. Now, let’s go, name the place you want to go!” The Doctor always looked forward going on adventures with Sherlock, he was almost like a time lord.

“Well, since you have rendered my investigation null and I have no other engagements on my birthday, well except dinner with John.”

“It’s sorted then, we’ll take him with us, I’m rather fond of him. And so are you. So, we’ll pick him up on the way.”

“Very well,” Sherlock said only slightly begrudgingly, “Where is the old girl?”

“Sherlock! Sherlock! Oh my, what a mess!” Mrs. Hudson cried from down stairs.

“I may have parked her in the foyer. I forgot how much Mrs. Hudson hates that.”

“Calm yourself Mrs. Hudson, we are on our way out.” Before she could utter another word, Sherlock and the Doctor had stepped into that marvelous little blue box. Mrs. Hudson watched in awe as it disappeared.