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capt_facepalmAuthor: ![[info]](https://capt-facepalm.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=1)
capt_facepalm
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Sarah Sawyer, others
Summary: Christmas time brings a new case for the world's only consulting detective.
Warnings: (cave canem)
Word Count: 10 000+ (This chapter 1560)
Author's Notes: For Challenge 002 at![[info]](https://capt-facepalm.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=88.3)
violinandwatch
.oOOo.
December 27th
At 0745, Jack Horner of Valley Rent-Alls arrived at his office. He loved holidays but as he found the in-laws to be more tiresome with each passing year, he was glad to be back to work. With most of his fleet idle, he would have time to finish off some of the end-of-year paperwork. He did not expect to be met at the door by two strange gentlemen, or that he would become involved in a police investigation.
‘One of your vans has been linked to a kidnapping,’ DI Lestrade informed him.
‘Not that Watson thing from last week? It was in this news again this morning.’
‘We’re not at liberty to discuss the details, but we will need to examine your records.’
‘This is a small company, sir. I only have twenty-six vehicles...’
‘Can you tell me which ones are currently out?’
‘I can do better than that! I’ve had customers fiddling with the odometers so I installed SatNav tracking on all of them. If they are parked outdoors, I should be able to locate any of them.’
Finally, something was working in their favour. Mr Horner powered up his computer.
‘Also, the van in question may have a recently replaced rear bumper,’ Sherlock reminded them.
‘Yeah, there are a bunch of those. Faulty original installation... all covered under warranty. I had to do the replacement but I couldn’t afford to lay them all up for painting at such a busy time of the year.’
The tracking software ran slowly on the old desktop computer. Horner pointed to the fancy espresso maker in the corner and told Sherlock and Lestrade to help themselves while they waited. Sherlock resisted the impulse to push Horner aside and run through the program himself. Lestrade busied himself with coffee-making and marvelling at what priorities this company had when their shiny, modern coffee machine was more efficient than their nearly obsolete computer.
‘Won’t this program show us a map of all of your fleet?’
‘No, sorry. I have to select each vehicle, otherwise the computer will crash.’
‘Well, start with the ones with the replacement fenders.’
Horner pulled a folder from his filing cabinet. His records indicated that there were four vans still requiring painting, and that of those, only two were actively leased. One was leased to a courier company in Shoreditch and the other, to a non-commercial customer in Barnsbury. The computer indicated that the first van had been idle, in London, for the past day.
‘Where was it on the afternoon of the 23rd?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Holmes, but the program only displays the last twenty-four hours. The whole travel log is recorded on the on-board unit and has to be downloaded manually. I’ve dealt with these blokes before. They take on an extra van or two for holiday deliveries. Last year, they returned one half stuffed with poinsettias! One of their clients stiffed them, or something. I’ll call them and offer to swap vans, if you like.’
‘That might alert them and they may try to destroy the evidence. No, I’ll have some of my team go and seize the vehicle. You can send a replacement van when we’re done. What about the Barnsbury one?’
‘The computer says it is in Dover and is idle as well... also not used in the last twenty-four hours. It is due back in a few days... on December 30th. The application lists ‘moving residence’ as its purpose. It was rented to Mr John Robinson. Here’s his application form and a copy of his registration.’
They phoned John Robinson’s contact number and found it out of service. Very suspicious. Lestrade then contacted his office and relayed Robinson’s details. Waiting for a response increased the worried tension in his face. He closed his mobile and shook his head in resignation.
‘Sorry. No luck. The ID is a fake. There’s no telling if that is even his real name.’
‘It isn’t. No one goes through the trouble of obtaining good quality fake ID in their own name.’
‘Good point, Sherlock. Donovan is on her way. I’ll leave her in charge here. She can follow up on the false ID. If we’re lucky, facial recognition programs may pick him up. She can also monitor the SatNav and let us know if the Dover van changes location. It’s outside my patch. I’ll contact Kent Police and tell them we’re coming. We’ll need their co-operation on this.’
‘Don’t tell them I’m coming too,’ Sherlock warned.
‘Why?’
‘I may have some trouble with the Kent Police.’
‘Why?’
‘I solved a case for them two years ago.’
‘Oh no. What happened? Wait, let me guess...’
‘...they were being stupid. If I had let them go on, the murderer would have gotten away.’
‘Not that arson case! Must you alienate everyone I need...?’
‘...no gratitude whatsoever.’
.oOOo.
Lestrade was determined to set a new land-speed record for the London to Dover run and the two hour drive was completed in only an hour and a half. Sherlock fidgeted the whole time.
‘Tell them we’re coming, but don’t tell them the address. I don’t want their incompetence to compromise any evidence in the van.’
‘Sherlock, they will need the address for the search warrant. It may even take that long to get one signed.’
‘Fine. Have them meet us there, but under no circumstances are they to approach the vehicle.’
In fact, they met a unmarked Kent Police car half a kilometre from the address of the suspects’ farm. In this open countryside there was no closer location to survey the house without being seen. Sergeant Hunter, a veteran of many years, met DI Lestrade and Sherlock while his rookie colleague, Constable Wright kept his binoculars trained on the property.
‘We’ve been here nearly twenty minutes and there has been no movement,’ Hunter handed the official search and seizure warrant to Lestrade to read. ‘The van is still there. You can see the back end of it near the grey shed. I can call Dispatch if you think we will need more officers.’
Constable Wright added, ‘I think the place is deserted and the van has been tipped. The family that owns the farm always travel to the Azores over the holidays. It’s hard to believe they would be involved in anything criminal.’
Tyre tracks of a second vehicle were preserved in the frozen mud.
‘Someone drove away in a compact car,’ Sherlock observed.
‘Nevertheless, be careful. Someone might still be around,’ Hunter cautioned.
The back door to the farm house had been forced but there was nobody home. There was evidence of takeaway dinners consumed and use of the fireplace for heat. Frozen footprints indicated that two men had left in a car before the latest cold snap. The Kent officers radioed for a fingerprints team while Lestrade and Sherlock headed for the panel van.
'If nothing else, we can download the SatNav and find out where it's been.'
Sherlock was fumbling with his locksmithing tools when a noise that sounded like a groan issued from inside the van.
‘Forget it, Sherlock. Constable, open this van!’
The PC Wright made short work of the lock with the slide hammer and a jemmy. Guns drawn, the doors were flung open. There, huddled in the corner, was a mob of unruly, muddy fur and a man’s legs, one trouser leg darkened and bloodstained. A pools of bile and blood were frozen to the metal floor The dog slowly raised her head, blinking at the sudden daylight, then gave a low whimper and nudged her companion’s inert form.
‘JOHN!’
Lestrade’s jaw dropped as, for the first time ever, Sherlock Holmes contaminated a crime scene by leaping into the van before anyone could stop him. John did not respond. He did not move. Was he even breathing? Gus stood on wobbly legs and staggered to the door where Lestrade gathered her into his arms and carried her over to his car.
‘Lestrade, he’s so cold! Bring a blanket!’ Sherlock cut away the nylon ties securing John’s wrists, peeled off his coat, wrapped it around his flatmate and pulled him close.
‘Don’t move him any more than necessary, Mr Holmes!’ cautioned Wright, recalling his marine unit search and rescue training.
The Sergeant Hunter made a quick assessment of the situation and had already reported the medical emergency. The air ambulance was on its way.
Twelve minutes later, the helicopter landed. Two paramedics and a doctor jumped into the van and pushed Sherlock out of the way. Examining their casualty they found his pulse slow and sluggish. They flashed a penlight in his eyes and were concerned at the response. Taking care to avoid exposed skin which may have been frostbitten, they secured him to a backboard. They also cut away his trouser to reveal John’s bloodied and swollen leg. Jagged bone protruded through his skin. His boot needed to be cut off with industrial shears. Throughout all this John remained unresponsive.
The paramedics conferred with their doctor and with hospital dispatch. They decided to forgo the local hospital and rush John directly to London. Sherlock, as if entranced, followed the gurney to the helicopter until Lestrade grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
‘No. You can’t go with him. They’re carrying an extra medic. Do something useful. Call Sarah. Let her know... Royal London Hospital Emergency and Trauma Centre. E.T.A: fifteen to twenty minutes. She can keep you updated as we drive back. I’ll take care of the paperwork with these Kent fellows later.’
capt_facepalmRating: PG-13
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Sarah Sawyer, others
Summary: Christmas time brings a new case for the world's only consulting detective.
Warnings: (cave canem)
Word Count: 10 000+ (This chapter 1560)
Author's Notes: For Challenge 002 at
violinandwatchPrevious Chapters
December 23rd
December 24th
December 25th (part one)
December 25th (part two)
December 26th
December 23rd
December 24th
December 25th (part one)
December 25th (part two)
December 26th
.oOOo.
December 27th
At 0745, Jack Horner of Valley Rent-Alls arrived at his office. He loved holidays but as he found the in-laws to be more tiresome with each passing year, he was glad to be back to work. With most of his fleet idle, he would have time to finish off some of the end-of-year paperwork. He did not expect to be met at the door by two strange gentlemen, or that he would become involved in a police investigation.
‘One of your vans has been linked to a kidnapping,’ DI Lestrade informed him.
‘Not that Watson thing from last week? It was in this news again this morning.’
‘We’re not at liberty to discuss the details, but we will need to examine your records.’
‘This is a small company, sir. I only have twenty-six vehicles...’
‘Can you tell me which ones are currently out?’
‘I can do better than that! I’ve had customers fiddling with the odometers so I installed SatNav tracking on all of them. If they are parked outdoors, I should be able to locate any of them.’
Finally, something was working in their favour. Mr Horner powered up his computer.
‘Also, the van in question may have a recently replaced rear bumper,’ Sherlock reminded them.
‘Yeah, there are a bunch of those. Faulty original installation... all covered under warranty. I had to do the replacement but I couldn’t afford to lay them all up for painting at such a busy time of the year.’
The tracking software ran slowly on the old desktop computer. Horner pointed to the fancy espresso maker in the corner and told Sherlock and Lestrade to help themselves while they waited. Sherlock resisted the impulse to push Horner aside and run through the program himself. Lestrade busied himself with coffee-making and marvelling at what priorities this company had when their shiny, modern coffee machine was more efficient than their nearly obsolete computer.
‘Won’t this program show us a map of all of your fleet?’
‘No, sorry. I have to select each vehicle, otherwise the computer will crash.’
‘Well, start with the ones with the replacement fenders.’
Horner pulled a folder from his filing cabinet. His records indicated that there were four vans still requiring painting, and that of those, only two were actively leased. One was leased to a courier company in Shoreditch and the other, to a non-commercial customer in Barnsbury. The computer indicated that the first van had been idle, in London, for the past day.
‘Where was it on the afternoon of the 23rd?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Holmes, but the program only displays the last twenty-four hours. The whole travel log is recorded on the on-board unit and has to be downloaded manually. I’ve dealt with these blokes before. They take on an extra van or two for holiday deliveries. Last year, they returned one half stuffed with poinsettias! One of their clients stiffed them, or something. I’ll call them and offer to swap vans, if you like.’
‘That might alert them and they may try to destroy the evidence. No, I’ll have some of my team go and seize the vehicle. You can send a replacement van when we’re done. What about the Barnsbury one?’
‘The computer says it is in Dover and is idle as well... also not used in the last twenty-four hours. It is due back in a few days... on December 30th. The application lists ‘moving residence’ as its purpose. It was rented to Mr John Robinson. Here’s his application form and a copy of his registration.’
They phoned John Robinson’s contact number and found it out of service. Very suspicious. Lestrade then contacted his office and relayed Robinson’s details. Waiting for a response increased the worried tension in his face. He closed his mobile and shook his head in resignation.
‘Sorry. No luck. The ID is a fake. There’s no telling if that is even his real name.’
‘It isn’t. No one goes through the trouble of obtaining good quality fake ID in their own name.’
‘Good point, Sherlock. Donovan is on her way. I’ll leave her in charge here. She can follow up on the false ID. If we’re lucky, facial recognition programs may pick him up. She can also monitor the SatNav and let us know if the Dover van changes location. It’s outside my patch. I’ll contact Kent Police and tell them we’re coming. We’ll need their co-operation on this.’
‘Don’t tell them I’m coming too,’ Sherlock warned.
‘Why?’
‘I may have some trouble with the Kent Police.’
‘Why?’
‘I solved a case for them two years ago.’
‘Oh no. What happened? Wait, let me guess...’
‘...they were being stupid. If I had let them go on, the murderer would have gotten away.’
‘Not that arson case! Must you alienate everyone I need...?’
‘...no gratitude whatsoever.’
.oOOo.
Lestrade was determined to set a new land-speed record for the London to Dover run and the two hour drive was completed in only an hour and a half. Sherlock fidgeted the whole time.
‘Tell them we’re coming, but don’t tell them the address. I don’t want their incompetence to compromise any evidence in the van.’
‘Sherlock, they will need the address for the search warrant. It may even take that long to get one signed.’
‘Fine. Have them meet us there, but under no circumstances are they to approach the vehicle.’
In fact, they met a unmarked Kent Police car half a kilometre from the address of the suspects’ farm. In this open countryside there was no closer location to survey the house without being seen. Sergeant Hunter, a veteran of many years, met DI Lestrade and Sherlock while his rookie colleague, Constable Wright kept his binoculars trained on the property.
‘We’ve been here nearly twenty minutes and there has been no movement,’ Hunter handed the official search and seizure warrant to Lestrade to read. ‘The van is still there. You can see the back end of it near the grey shed. I can call Dispatch if you think we will need more officers.’
Constable Wright added, ‘I think the place is deserted and the van has been tipped. The family that owns the farm always travel to the Azores over the holidays. It’s hard to believe they would be involved in anything criminal.’
Tyre tracks of a second vehicle were preserved in the frozen mud.
‘Someone drove away in a compact car,’ Sherlock observed.
‘Nevertheless, be careful. Someone might still be around,’ Hunter cautioned.
The back door to the farm house had been forced but there was nobody home. There was evidence of takeaway dinners consumed and use of the fireplace for heat. Frozen footprints indicated that two men had left in a car before the latest cold snap. The Kent officers radioed for a fingerprints team while Lestrade and Sherlock headed for the panel van.
'If nothing else, we can download the SatNav and find out where it's been.'
Sherlock was fumbling with his locksmithing tools when a noise that sounded like a groan issued from inside the van.
‘Forget it, Sherlock. Constable, open this van!’
The PC Wright made short work of the lock with the slide hammer and a jemmy. Guns drawn, the doors were flung open. There, huddled in the corner, was a mob of unruly, muddy fur and a man’s legs, one trouser leg darkened and bloodstained. A pools of bile and blood were frozen to the metal floor The dog slowly raised her head, blinking at the sudden daylight, then gave a low whimper and nudged her companion’s inert form.
‘JOHN!’
Lestrade’s jaw dropped as, for the first time ever, Sherlock Holmes contaminated a crime scene by leaping into the van before anyone could stop him. John did not respond. He did not move. Was he even breathing? Gus stood on wobbly legs and staggered to the door where Lestrade gathered her into his arms and carried her over to his car.
‘Lestrade, he’s so cold! Bring a blanket!’ Sherlock cut away the nylon ties securing John’s wrists, peeled off his coat, wrapped it around his flatmate and pulled him close.
‘Don’t move him any more than necessary, Mr Holmes!’ cautioned Wright, recalling his marine unit search and rescue training.
The Sergeant Hunter made a quick assessment of the situation and had already reported the medical emergency. The air ambulance was on its way.
Twelve minutes later, the helicopter landed. Two paramedics and a doctor jumped into the van and pushed Sherlock out of the way. Examining their casualty they found his pulse slow and sluggish. They flashed a penlight in his eyes and were concerned at the response. Taking care to avoid exposed skin which may have been frostbitten, they secured him to a backboard. They also cut away his trouser to reveal John’s bloodied and swollen leg. Jagged bone protruded through his skin. His boot needed to be cut off with industrial shears. Throughout all this John remained unresponsive.
The paramedics conferred with their doctor and with hospital dispatch. They decided to forgo the local hospital and rush John directly to London. Sherlock, as if entranced, followed the gurney to the helicopter until Lestrade grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
‘No. You can’t go with him. They’re carrying an extra medic. Do something useful. Call Sarah. Let her know... Royal London Hospital Emergency and Trauma Centre. E.T.A: fifteen to twenty minutes. She can keep you updated as we drive back. I’ll take care of the paperwork with these Kent fellows later.’
no subject
Date: 2011-12-31 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-12 09:59 pm (UTC)I'm glad to hear you are still enjoying this story.
The other chapters have been posted and linked!