9A/N: I know, yet another story from me, but this time I have an excuse… well, not really, I just wanted to write it. Anyway, for this, my beta is the adorable Ingradera who kindly agreed to read through my god awful spelling errors and typos. You are a saint! Any mistakes left over are mine and I apologise. Anyway, on with the story.
Stepping quickly down the halls, coat flaring out behind him as he went, Sherlock allowed his mind to spin off down which ever direction it so desired. This new case was interesting, intriguing in its complexity and would have been the perfect puzzle if it had only made the slightest bit of sense, but none of the clues were adding up in a way which he could accept. It was like trying to play chess with mah-jong pieces or Cluedo with Jacks instead of cards, no matter how much he tried to piece the different pieces of evidence together, they just would not create a bigger picture; the normal streams of information where blocked and dried up as though the absurdity of this particular case had placed a dam through them. It was infuriating!.. Yet at the same time, immensely fascinating.
When he had first been called onto the scene, some back alley slum filled with rubbish and broken needles, the case had seem clear cut and simple enough to work out, for him anyway. Burns on the man's hands that had been made pre-mortem and residual static electricity suggested that the wire he had been clutching close to his chest had been live. Suicide. Simple and entirely undeserving of his attention… or so he had thought.
Cross examination showed that, although a large charge had passed through the wire at the approximate time of death and, in fact, had been the cause of death, all signs indicated that the surge had come from the victim himself, through his hands, and into the wire as a way out. However, there was no other possible explanation, the man had clearly died from heart failure caused by a surplus of energy supplied to the pace maker cells in the heart which lead to arrhythmia and, obviously, ended in a heart attack. Electrocution was the only possible reason for these symptoms, but it just wouldn't fit with the evidence no matter which angle he stared at it from.
Then there was the victim himself, no records of him could be found at all, not even dental or medical ones which was statistically improbably given the age of the man. Even Mycroft had drawn a blank when it came to the man's identity, for the first time in history. There was absolutely no evidence of the man at all, no facial recognition on any cameras, no bank account, not even a shopping receipt, it was almost like he had not even existed until he turned up dead on the street one day. But that could not be possible.
Taking a deep breath, he stopped outside one of the interrogation rooms in Scotland Yard, allowing his hand to rest loosely on the chilled metal handle of the reinforced door. He had been called into the station because Lestrade had finally managed to track down the two figures that had been seen running into the alley way on the CCTV cameras fixed across the street from the crime scene (tough the victim had not even been found on these tapes either) and had brought them in for questioning.
After another moment to compose himself from the mad dash over from Baker Street, something he would never admit to if questioned, the consulting detective straightened his spine and squared his shoulders to ensure he struck an intimidating figure as he stepped into the room only to stop when he spotted two… children sitting behind the table.
The boy was older, obviously, a student at the local university though he should not have been old enough to attend yet, so he was smart, more than that, he was a supposed genius. Despite the situation he was currently in, the boy wore a look of resigned acceptance with a slight hint of amusement as though he had not really been expecting to be brought into the police headquarters for questioning, but he didn't really mind. Innocent then… or confident that there was not enough evidence to point towards him if not... Sherlock did not have enough data to decide either way yet.
The girl beside him though was making no effort at all to hide her excitement at her surroundings, all but vibrating in her seat and clutching the boy's… probably a relative as no family would allow a 13 year old to visit London on her own… arm tighter. Curiously, before and after answering any question, she would look at his face as though seeking approval. They were hiding something then. Either that, or the girl had a brother complex the size of the British Isles, though that was unlikely.
Seeing him enter the room, Lestrade edged over to Sherlock, a file clasped in his hand as he turned to watch the other officer continue the questioning, leaning back on the wall even as he tilted himself closer to the consulting detective to whisper.
"Luke and Sky Smith, adopted children of Sarah-Jane Smith the investigative journalist who is famous for exposing illegal dealings of corporate giants."
At this, Sherlock nodded, he had heard of the woman's work, even followed some of her cases whenever he was bored enough. She was smart, determined and, when he looked back over some of her reports, he couldn't help but admire her deductive reasoning and he knew for a fact that Mycroft kept a close eye on the woman's cases for his own entertainment, even if he would never admit to it.
Subsequently, as they had helped her many times in her cases, Sherlock had also come across mention of her two adopted children Luke and Sky, though he had never seen a picture of them before due to the fact that Miss Smith had been adamant that they were too young to be exposed to the media circus. Though that would make the case more interesting if they were who they said they were.
"Luke is a student living on the campus not far from the crime scene, apparently his sister had come to stay with him for a short while and they had gone out for a walk. They haven't mentioned why they were in such a place at 3 O'clock in the morning, but I can't really see either of them doing it. Apparently they don't even know who the victim was. Say he wasn't there when they walked through. They're not even witnesses, though we need to make sure."
"They entered into the alley at the predicted time of death and didn't see a single thing? And they are refusing to explain why they were there in the first place? Honestly Lestrade, I would have thought that you would have more intelligence than that. Just look at the girl, she's hiding something for sure."
He all but hissed at the older man, glaring darkly at the girl who was still bouncing on her seat looking like nothing more than a hyperactive child, or she would have, if she didn't keep clenching her left hand over and over, like she was remembering something. Still, the DI seemed completely oblivious to this blatant tell, only looking at him askance.
"Sherlock, she's just a kid, and a tiny one at that. How could she have possibly done that to a grown man?"
Irritated, the taller man pushed away from the wall and stalked towards the table, hunching his shoulders slightly. He didn't know how a child could have done that to an adult, he didn't even know what that was, but he intended to find out and to do that he needed to remove himself from the DI's mother hening. Sometimes George's parental instincts could be a major annoyance on cases. Sherlock wouldn't even be that surprised if he left the room only to return to the older man offering the girl a mug of hot chocolate and tucking her into bed.
Sky couldn't help but grin as she noticed the tall man step into the room, she recognised him as the man from the website Clyde had shown her the other day. Sherlock Holmes. Apparently he was the best detective in London, possibly England, and it was interesting to meet him at last, though Luke seemed to tense even more than he already had at his presence.
All the police men did too. It looked like they didn't like the detective much, but she couldn't really understand why. If he was solving all those cases for them, wasn't he a good guy? Why would they not like him if he helped them so much? Maybe they were jealous... like those girls at school who picked on Rhani because she always looked better than them without even trying? Humans were confusing.
It was annoying that the officer in front of her kept asking her questions about the night before; she had to keep checking in with Luke to make sure that she hadn't said something wrong. It wasn't as though she was scared of them figuring out that she had lost control and sent a jolt of electricity into the man when he had tried to strangle her that night, but she wasn't too sure that these people knew about aliens, so they probably wouldn't realise that it was simply a modified version of a psychic slave. She hadn't killed it, for that it would have to have been alive to begin with, but the electricity had cut off the mental link so the slave became useless. They never did find out who sent it.
Luke said it had been too easy to hunt down the cause of all the disappearances (well, they say disappearances, the people always turned up about 3 days later with no memory of what had happened to them, or that they had even been gone) and that it should have been harder as the signal was so guarded and hard to crack in the first place. To her, it didn't really matter either way, they had caught the bad guy, so what did the reason behind it matter?
The detective started walking towards them, snapping Sky out of her thoughts as she tightened her grip on Luke's arm, feeling him tense beneath her grip. He was probably worried that Mr Holmes would be able to see through them, but it was unlikely, he prided himself on being a man of logic, he wouldn't even consider the possibility of aliens and special abilities. Dr Watson even wrote that his flatmate didn't even know about the solar system after all, so how would he know about what really happened?
Smiling sweetly in the way that always seemed to make all the adults around her softer and easier to speak with (manipulate), she turned to the Detective who she had been following from the corner of her eyes since he had entered the room, making it clear that he had her full attention.
"Hello Mr Holmes."
From the scowl on his face, he wasn't best pleased by her greeting, though it had been perfectly polite, and Mr Smith had told her that everyone appreciated people being polite to them. Instead of answering with a greeting of his own, he slumped into the empty chair opposite her across the table and stared fixedly at her face. He looked like he was about to say something, but he was cut off by Luke laughing beside her.
"You think Sky did it? How would that even be possible?"
Instead of joining in the laughter as Sky had expected him to do, Mr Holmes leaned back in his chair, glaring at the both of them darkly over his steeped fingers tapping a strange beat onto the floor with his foot subconsciously... the rhythm was actually quite catchy.
"No Mr Smith, I believe that both of you did it, in fact, I know you did. I'm still working on the how though. Would you care to give me a hint, it was rather ingenious."
Sky couldn't help but giggle at the way that Luke flinched at being called Mr Smith, but it looked like the situation was really serious if they were going to be treated as suspected murderers. Sarah-Jane was going to flip when she found out about it, they were supposed to have come to London to stay out of trouble, but, oh well. This was much more fun after all.
Thanks for reading, the question is gonna work the same way as all my other stories so enjoy!
Question from the beta :D
What were Sarah-Jane's parents called?
