Hamish Dale's House

Sally follows the detective in. Her demeanour is a little less eager than his, she looks around more in trepidation than excitement, until her eyes fall on the bloody words scrawled on the wall, and the body: lifeless beneath them.
"Wow," she says, grimacing, and taking a closer look at the victim. No visible wounds; that was odd. Where did the blood come from?
And why, why did Sherlock Holmes have to look as though Christmas had come early? It's disturbing, not to mention wrong.
"Is that a suicide note?" she wonders, aloud.

Sherlock had called John and told him to meet him and Donovan at Hamish Dale's house. Another victim.

He knew Sherlock and Donovan would already be in as he arrived in front of the house, so he just opened the door and walked in.

Creepy..

He walked into the living room and saw Donovan and Sherlock. And the body. And the note on the wall.

"You know?" he asked, out loud, meaning the writing. He didn't think traditional greetings were in order.

Lestrade appears, no less stressed than any other day, scrubbing the hair at the back of his neck with one gloved hand.

Shouldn’t do that. DNA’s going to be all over forensics now. Ah, well – if they can’t rule me out as the killer, we’ve got bigger problems.

He sees Sherlock, looking far too pleased – doesn’t he always? Lestrade is used to it by now – and inclines his head in deference. The truth is, inappropriately pleased or not, he is glad Sherlock’s come. This one makes even less sense than usual.

“Sherlock,” he says, to catch the younger man’s attention. He’s always preoccupied at crime scenes; never has a moment to clarify for the rest of them. “I need anything you’ve got. This one’ll have the press out any minute. Professional athlete, all the trappings of a media feeding frenzy. So help us out before it starts, yeah?”

A harsh, electronic beeping noise interrupts the murder scene. Everyone looks around in confusion, before John pulls out his phone. There is a new message from an unidentifiable source.

Check the victim's tongue, it reads. Also, Sherlock looks hungry. Blackwater's is open at this time of night. His brother strongly suggests he visits once he has aquired all the knowledge he can from the crime scene.

Sherlock's phone vibrates and that message simply says: Mycroft's people coming in fifteen minutes. Keep deductions short and sweet.

Anthea, tired of watching over them over grainy camera footage, switches to Angry Birds on her phone, and allows herself to take a few bites of the cooling pasta before her.

''OF COURSE NOT!!!''shouted Sherlock, irritated that Donovan could think such a stupid thing.''Don't you see?! It's not even his blood. There are no big enough wounds as to get blood from his just before he died as to write this note on the wall...!! This, is definetely a murder!''

''Ah! You're there!''he exclaimed, hearing Watson's voice. He had a tiny smile at seeing his friend.''And yes..I DO know....at least have a good idea of whom might be behind this...''

He paced up and down the room, making silence wait just so the others would get eager to know about his idea. When he wasn't able to keep it any time longer *hey! He wanted to feel the amazement of everyone...*, he told them.

''It's SOOOO obvious! I wonder why the Londonians pay you...you don't do any work! Anyways.... It's Moriarty. Don't look at me liek that, I already told you and it's true! I s---...he's alive. I'm sure of it. Plus, why would someone write 'You know'. I'm sure he's back with a vengeance..otherwise, who would have written this? makes no sense...unless a victim's parent could read it...and understand. Though I highly doubt it SINCE it's not with the victim's blood..which means..it was directed at us. And if it's Moriarty...he knows we're always the same around murders...''

He then smiled brightly at everyone, proud again of his marvelous deductions. Though, his smile quickly faded as he thought again about Moriarty and...his sentence... ''I'll burn the HEART out of you...'' And that's when his eyes caught Watson's.

''Oh, Lestrade! Well...you've heard it all. Use what I just said.''

Suddenly, his phone vibrated and he took a look at the message.

''Oh great..He always has to put his nose in my things... Can't bare with me for having the spotlight. My brother's people are coming.''he announced indifferently to the others.

[Deleted: out of place. Reposted below.]

(Deleted Post: out of place, reposted below.)

((Okay peeps! SOrry for the stop..BUT you are NOT following the order! Lestrade, Anthea..I LOOVE you a lot and your RP is GREAT! BUT you must wait for your turn...I'm first *Of course *, Donovan is second, Watson is third, THEN it's Lestrade, and Anthea. It was in the rules The RP order. So copy your posts and send it to yourself by PM. Then edit it when it's your turn. THanks much ^^ *Hugs y'all!*))

"Oh great," Sally interjects, rolling her eyes, and resting one hand on her hip. She contemplates Sherlock for a second, then turns to Lestrade with a huff. "There's two of them. To be honest, I'm pretty sick of just one."
His entertainment value from earlier has definitely worn off. I think I forgot how arrogant he was.
"And you," she continues, addressing Sherlock directly this time, instead of the room at large "I'm sorry, but what gives you the authority to question the police force?"
You do it all the time, yes, I know. Lestrade loves you. But I'm going to keep asking until I get a proper answer.
I don't care that you're good at solving crime. Go get a proper job if you want to investigate crime scenes so much.

John smiled as Sherlock noticed him. "Of course you do", he said.

He watched calmly as Sherlock paced down the door.

I'm guessing Moriarty or something. 'Cause he seems to be the headlines of the week, well, for us, a bit more. Whatever.

"Moriarty", John nodded. No point to his speak, he just.. said it. "But what does he mean by "you know"..?"

He looked a bit concerned then, his face mirroring Sherlock's, which turned from a smile to a serious look.

His brother's people? What the bloody hell do they have to do with my crime scene?

Exhaustion turning to annoyance, he closed a hand over Sherlock's mobile and blocked the screen from view, not letting go until he had the detective's full attention. And maybe just a bit longer afterward, as well; he didn't like being dismissed like some young upstart constable at his own crime scene, and far less by a man who owed him the right to be present at all.

"You're basing all your deductions on the assumption that only Moriarty would write 'You know?' Convince me, Sherlock, because you haven't yet, and I'd like to see the inside of my own flat sometime this evening. We don't even know whose blood this is - is there another victim? Give me something to go on!"

He didn't really doubt that Sherlock would turn out to be correct. The scene made him uneasy as it was, and it was definitely not beyond Moriarty - or, at least, his people.

But I'm not Sherlock. I have rules and procedures to follow, and he's got to give me something I can use to satisfy them, something tangible, or else neither of us can be any help to the other.

My employer wishes to commend you on your efforts, a new text message reads on Lestrade's phone. He says Sherlock has always been the impatient child of their family.

Anthea finishes another level of her game, the livestream audio recording of the people at the murder scene overlapping the sound effects.

''There's only one person you should be sick of, Donovan, and it's Anderson...or his wife, your choice.''he bitterly told her, almost glaring.''And everything gives me that right, sergeant, seeing how you all poorly work...''

Sherlock then grimaced as Lestrade blocked his cellphone screen, but did a 360 degree turn and didn't even care to answer him right now. No, he cared more about Watson had said... So he smiled to him and explained: ''Yeah. Good to hear you think the same! And I guess it means I should know...always me, people....Probably that I know it does not end here..and that it's a whole new game..much more complicated this time...Can't you all see this isn't the victim's blood?! That proves it! Only Moriarty would give himself the trouble of doing all that to PLAY...''

He was now huffing a bit and glaring at all of them.

What a stupid bunch of people...And they call this WORK!??! My, my...

''Fine, fine, Lestrade. Listen well! First, yes, I have presumptions it could *and it definitely is* be Moriarty who wrote this. Why? Because he's not DEAD! I assume that no one found his body otherwise we would have heard about it somewhere... Also, it relates to the fact that ''I KNOW'' he's still there and up for a new game... And look, it's not by the touch of a beginner in the matter of crime..LOok. It's not the victim's blood and it's not the criminal's, I'm sure of it. So, either there's another victim waiting somewhere from whom the blood came from, or that person is already dead by now... But the blood is way too fresh for the person to be dead, so strike that! The other victim's not dead. And yes, there is another one! Plus, WHO else than Moriarty would go through the trouble of doing all this just so to write a ''You know?'' that's supposed to mean a lot on the wall? NO ONE! So tell the press there is another victim waiting somewhere, and that it was a murder, due to no signs of big enough wounds to get enough blood to write that message ANNNNDDD you know what abotu Hamish Dale? Yes, he was a worldwide renown athlete..but he has also been caught once or twice with heroine..it's not that bad. I mean they all do it once, at least. The thing is, he has proved he didn't take as much as to kill himself with it... So, this proves it's a murder..''

Then, he smiled widely, proud of exact *or really really close* theory. Though, subtedly, he gave a ''We'll soon be outta here so get ready for it!'' look to Watson before reporting his attention mostly on Lestrade. Because he actually the only one Sherlock thought had a bit of brains...and he was rarely mean with him, so it helped, though he'd never say it.

"Great, so now we've got another imaginary corpse to find," Sally says, rolling her eyes, and shifting her weight onto her other leg. She shoots Sherlock a contemptuous look, before switching her gaze to the Detective Inspector. "I'd suggest we do some blood tests on both the victim and the blood on the wall." She flicks her eyes over the scene in front of them again, and takes a breath, thinking. "And, see if we can get somone looking into Mr. Dale's background: anyone likely to have a motive to murder him, or any reason he might have killed himself."
She's deliberately ignoring Sherlock's deductions, she knows. Perhaps it's childish, but he's not convincing her, and she is pretty damn sure that this can be solved without him interfering. Still trying to avoid looking at the detective, she shrugs at Lestrade, a request to know if her suggestions were reasonable.

John smiled at Sherlock's reply.

"It would make more sense", he said. "For Moriarty, anyway."

Uh-oh, he is stressing.

He really had nothing to add after Sherlock's long, long speech. And he felt like Sherlock really didn't want anyone ruining his detective moment.

As Donovan mentioned the blood on the wall, he turned towards there. It was pretty obvious it was Moriarty, and Sherlock was gonna make sure people realized that.

Lestrade closed his eyes in affirmation, appreciative of the fact that Sherlock had stopped, if only for a moment, to give them some justification for his conclusions. Not that he was happy about the conclusions themselves, because they spelt a nightmare.

Figuratively, for me; the paperwork is going to take bloody ages - and worse, literally, for this other victim... Christ, another victim like this one. Oh, God.

"Sherlock... all right. I'll take this as read - for now. But if you're telling me that there's another victim, then my priority is to find that victim. Understand? No going off on your own without checking in with us. If there's someone still alive out there, some... blood donor for this twisted scheme... then we'll be moving heaven and earth to save that person, and your extracurricular adventures take second place."

He took a breath. He was fairly certain Sherlock knew all that, of course, and he had faith that John Watson could keep all of their priorities in place... but somehow it still felt important to say.

There's some terrified abductee God knows where. If the only thing I can do to help is lecture Sherlock, no wonder I've said a little more than usual.

Enough now, though.

"So let's work together on this. All right?"