I Am Sherlocked

Sherlock awaited Claires return for a while too long. His patience wearing thinner by the minute. Finally he heard the front door open and Mrs Hudson call out,

"Youhooo!" Her high pitched voice called as it traveled up the stairs.

Finally. Sherlock thought as he grabbed his coat to meet Claire half way down the stairs. Mrs Hudson already on her way up to greet her niece and Sherlock.

"Mrs Hudson, is Claire outside?"
"Claire? No I thought she was with you dear"

Disaster dawned on Sherlock like a grim shadow.

"But you did text her to pick you up?"
"No, I took a taxi dear, where is she?" Oblivious Mrs Hudson questioned, "Whats going on?" She asked again.

Without answering Mrs Hudson Sherlock whipped his coat around his shoulders, securing his scarf as well.
"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson called after him. But he had no time to reply. He reached into his pocket and as he did so it started ringing.

"Lestrade?" There was a long pause, "Where?" He asked, another long pause followed, "Are you sure it's her?" Sherlock asked, his body relaxed and calm.

"Taxi!" He called out, chasing after a taxi driving past. Sherlocks breath white as he bellowed out in the cold. Sliding into the back of the seat he instructed the taxi driver where to go.

As he pulled up to the crime scene, the police tape containing the sure reality of a grim crime. As he walked towards the team of people, he assessed the environment he was placed in. The area was a damp valley of two buildings. Their height restricted the amount of sunlight into the alley way. The rain was still heavy here compared to the cul-de-sac he had just come off of. Suggested that this area was quite damp often. To the immediate left of the body was a black rubbish bag, spilled and soiled. Put there on purpose to suggest struggle. The rubbish is placed strategically AROUND the body and not one inch of rubbish ON TOP of the body. To his right a couple of meters above the ground was a ladder leading to the roof. At the end of the alley way a tall brick wall. Inescapable. He took a deep breath through his nose, but the area was so dense with moisture he couldn't pick up a trace of anything else. The grime on the brick walls was thick at chest height all the way through the alley way to the body. Suggesting no struggle at all. Victim would of at least scratched at the walls in a desperate attempt. Also, location is in close proximity to occupied houses. Victim was already dead when brought here.

He turned his attention to the dead body laying on the ground. Her honey blonde hair matted from the pool of blood surrounding her. Not her blood. Sherlock thought. Fake. He took the womans right hand in his, her nails perfectly painted in red enamel. Her dark blue jacket dry to touch, but damp on the belly side where it had been in contact with the ground. The jacket was brand new.

"This isn't Claire"
"You sure?" Lestrade asked,
"Positive. Claire has a habit of biting her right thumb nail, it chips all the nail polish that she ever wears on it. This woman's nails are perfectly in tact and painted. The jacket that Claire wears has a black line on the cuffs, she put them there herself as it was the same jacket as another woman from her division in America. She needed to distinguish hers from Claire's. Jacket was bought yesterday" He bent over to check the collar, "The Hackney Shop. Morning Lane. Claire's hair is also parted through the middle of her hair, but this woman wears her hair parted on the left side of her head. This woman has been dead at least a day now due to the slight discoloring of her face, Claire was present at least 2 hours ago"
"Where is she now?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock becoming increasingly quiet.
"I don't know" Sherlock said panicked.

He was panicked in the sense that he wasn't sure how to find her. That she had already been missing for 2 hours, anything could be possible now. Ashleigh was relying on Sherlock to be crazy in love with Claire. Crazy enough to identify a stranger as Claire. She was mistaken for his game play however. He had played her into a trap, well at least he thought he had. When suddenly it dawned on him.

What if Ashleigh had set up a similar scene but instead with 'Sherlocks' body lifeless in front of Claire? Would Claire's instinct have been over clouded by her attraction to Sherlock? Had what Sherlock done exactly what Ashleigh wanted him to do? Make Claire fall in love with him so that she would be so distraught with devastation that she was unable to identify his corpses correctly. There had to be a link. There has to be a location where she would have taken Claire. Some where estranged to Claire. But that could be any where. It had been years since Claire had been in London. She even admitted her knowledge of the city was inadequate. Link. There had to be one.

"Think Sherlock, where are all the bodies now?" Mycroft said entering into Sherlocks mind.
"Not now" Sherlock ordered,
"Look at where you are standing and make a deduction" Mycroft insisted,
"Damp area's. Alley ways." Sherlock said.
"What does the damp do to a lifeless body?"
"Increases the time lapse of the decomposition of the body"
"So the theme is?"
"Wet areas to quicken the decomposition time so that it hard to identify the person"
"Where has it been raining lately?"
"London"
"So she's in London. Missing for two hours but not out of London..."
"And in a damp alley way some where"

Desperate minutes were passing and Sherlock needed to find Claire. Her life was in grave danger and the clues were very vague. Almost impossible to deduct from. But he had them. Which was important.

And then his phone started to ring. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket, checking the caller,
"Claire! Where are you?" He answered quickly,
"Claire? No, no, no." Ashleigh said through the phone,
Sherlock paused, his mind racing through his mind palace,
"There's no point stressing about where she is. I'm going to let you in on a little secret." Ashleigh laughed,
"Where is she?" Sherlock growled,
"Get in the taxi Mr Holmes, oh, and come alone Mr Holmes, I'd hate for anything bad to happen" Ashleigh said, and then hung up.

Sherlock spun around to the entrance of the long alley way, and saw the taxi waiting for him. He raced to the cab, jumping into the rear seats.

"Tell me where she is" Sherlock said demanding.
"Why sure Mr Holmes" Ashleigh smiled into the rear view mirror at him. Sherlock recovering his breath. It was important to maintain his composure. With his phone in his pocket he carefully text Lestrade.

"Come alone. Follow the taxi that's leaving now but stay hidden. SH"

They drove for about ten minutes before Ashleigh pulled up to an empty warehouse. Damp conditions. Barely any sunlight.

"I think we have a lot in common Mr Holmes" Ashleigh started, instructing him with her gun to step out of the vehicle.
"I very much doubt that" Sherlock commented,
"No, I think we do. We both get a pleasure out of dead bodies. You get it too. That adrenaline rush from lifelessness."
Sherlock continued to follow her as she walked to the back of the warehouse.
"A dead body can tell you a lot about the murderer. Their behaviors, the way they think. For instance, someone who stabs someone seven times randomly in the abdomen, was in a state of rage. But someone who strangles another person is careless, willful, and thoughtful"
"Thoughtful?"
Ashleigh merely smirked at Sherlock. He stood with his hands behind his back.
"There are three different senses of the word suffocate. To be physically suffocated, to die from lack of air. To have difficulty breathing. And to feel trapped or oppressed."
"Yes thank you. I didn't come here for a lecture on English"
She giggled as she stared at him. Taking slow steps towards Sherlock she gazed deeply into his eyes. She now came with in an inch of his body. Smelling his aroma. Suffocating herself with him.
"I must say Mr Holmes, I knew it wouldn't be too hard for you to make her fall in love, but I didn't realize how easy it would be for you to fall in love with her"
Sherlock, impressed with himself smirked. Which was followed by a simple chuckle.
"What?" Ashleigh said aggressively,
"Childs play" He stared back,
"Tell me then" Ashleigh insisted, obviously agitated from her lack of control on the situation.

"Control."
"What?"
"Control. You desire control. It's not by thoughtfulness or willfulness that you so eagerly strangle people. You desire control. When we talked on the phone, you always controlled the pace of the conversation, the tone, and the volume. When you take someones throat in your hands, it gives you control. When you killed Olivia, so to speak, it gave you ultimate control. Well it would have if you hadn't slipped the cat out of the bag to Claire. Who unaware knew your secret about your alter ego, Ashleigh."
"They were both weak, both easy to control."
"But give someone too much control can cause them to suffocate themselves. Oh yes! Every serial killer makes a mistake, and you, have just made the biggest one yet" Sherlock smiled, becoming active as he spoke, he spun around to face her. His coat flaring as he did.
"What mistake?" A very sudden and wary Ashleigh asked,
"Me" Sherlock forbiddingly answered.
Ashleigh began to laugh, as her body started to tense.

"So the plan was working well, until Claire was put on your case"
"That was a plus for me actually, I banked on her to be put on my case"
"Claire proving herself much more informative that you desired. But you couldn't interfere could you? Because when the division finally told her about your drug abuse, she didn't believe them. Which made you think you were safe. Until she left the division and become determined to prove your name clear. That's when she started digging in places you didn't want her too. That's when she discovered Masu. And that was too close to home wasn't it? You knew that she couldn't get any closer to figuring out the truth, otherwise your domain would diminish. The ultimate control you desired would be put to rest in a prison cell. So why not warn Claire off? Why not let her flee to London with your secret?"
"Well that would've worked if she didn't meet you, now would've it?"
"So are you going to kill both of us?"
"One down, one to go"
"Claire is not dead"
"Is she not?"
Sherlock silenced with thought.
"Humor me" He pressed,

"It was really quite easy you know. I knew Claire couldn't resist herself, hell, I think even Victor knew that too"
"Victor?"
"Yes, Victor, Mrs. Victor wasn't too happy when she found out either. I can tell your not so impressed as well."
"Continue" Sherlock said, to avoid unnecessary detail,
"Elementary wouldn't you say. You give a hero a damsel in distress and you watch the chemistry unfold. Weaken them. Give them something to die for. Like I said, I knew Claire would be easy, she never could resist the temptation. All you had to do was give her hope, and she would fling herself at you. But you Mr Holmes. I over estimated you surely. I didn't realize how easy it would be to tempt you. In fact, you did it yourself" She smiled, "You practically walked yourself into danger. You might as well dig your own grave while your here too."
"People would notice that Claire and I are missing"
Ashleighs eyes turning complete black as she pulled her gun out of her pocket. Sherlock took in a deep breath. He stared back down the barrel of the gun pointed at him. His mind sifting through the 4 different possibilities,
"Good, then they will all know, that I, Ashleigh Oviu, the great Masu, bet Sherlock Holmes"

An explosive sound echoed through the back of the warehouse. Which was then followed by a long deathly and eerie sound. Ashleigh content with herself grimly smiled. Her eyes eating away at Sherlock. The world turned black.

***
Claires hand wrapped around Sherlocks as she pulled his arm around her. His face inches away from hers. He closed his eyes again to avoid finding sentiment. His breathing showing how hard it was to restrain.

***

Sherlock in slight shock turned to his immediate left, Lestrade walking out from the shadows, a hand gun in his hands. He again turned back to Ashleigh, who had dropped her gun upon being shot in the leg. A precise shot, to disarm an aggressor.

"You mistaken me for someone weak. When clearly I am more than aware of what love is, and what love does. You have mistaken my love of mind games for that of affection from one person to another. Because, that is, all that this was. You see I am always infatuated by the idea of puzzles. The wonderfully thrilling experience. Its almost like having mental sex" Sherlock admitted,
"Attraction to me is equal to intellectual appreciation. My mental stimulation is similar to that of ordinary peoples physical stimulation. I crave and I actively pursue the challenge, much like people, crave and pursue love. Love is evidently a losing game. Irene Adler, was the pure proof of it. She lives inside my head as a reminder every day. You really think that you could trick me? I made you, and everyone else think I was in love. But the chemistry is far too simple to re-enact" Sherlock quickly spoke, Ashleigh in obvious pain stared back at him.
"It is a game that you wanted, and it is a game you have got."
"So who wins?" Ashleigh choked, "I know where Claire is, but do you? So who is the real winner?" She taunted further.
"Tell us where she is" Sherlock demanded, standing over her with his tall figure casting a dull shadow over her.
Lestrade now enclosing them both,
"Arrest her" Sherlock insisted to Lestrade, who took his hand cuffs from his jacket and placed them on her wrist.
"I will die, before I let you win" She hissed, spitting at his feet. Sherlock rolled his eyes away from her, resisting the urge to hit a girl. But now he had to think. He had to think where it was that Claire was hidden. His mind over loading with possibilities. Sherlock finding it impossible to narrow it down. Growing with frustration he stormed behind Lestrade and Ashleigh, took her hair in his hand and wrenched her head backwards,
"Tell me!" He yelled at her infuriated,
"For someone who doesn't love Mr Holmes, you do seem at a loss"
"Tell me where she is" Lestrade intervened, removing Sherlocks hand from Ashleighs head.
"This is just the start of the game" Ashleigh laughed in pain.