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The Red Snow	By : orceena Category: S through Z > Sherlock Holmes (2009) > Sherlock Holmes (2009) Views: 2450 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the characters within. I am not making any kind of profit from this story.

Chapter List
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John was drunk by the time Sherlock and the police arrived. To keep him self contained, John turned to the bottle to keep him still. He wanted so badly to go to her body and remove it from the infernal fence. He wanted to hold her desperately or kiss her still form hoping it would magically bring her to life again. John immediately called Sherlock. When the sleuth rushed in, he found his dear friend slumped on the floor behind his desk holding tightly to the empty bottle. His knees were drawn up, elbows were resting on his knees head slumped forward. He didn’t even look up when Sherlock walked into the room.
It didn’t surprise the detective. He sat next to his friend after surveying the room. He noted every smell, every visual detail, every texture, and the number of items in the room. He counted all the drops of blood as he followed the trail with his eyes calculating every minor detail he could find. When all was set up in his mind’s eye, the detective decided that now was not the time to relinquish the details. They could wait.
“Watson, I would ask if you could share some of that, but from your solemn demeanor, I would say that there is none left to share,” Sherlock stated.
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, come now, Watson. I don’t find it the least bit disturbing that you would take to the drink. The way I said it was not the way I meant it. This reaction is actually normal.”
“Then why make a fuss, Holmes?”
“Because it would pain me to watch you convulse and regurgitate.”
“I’m the doctor. And this is my medicine. It was only half of the bottle anyway.”
“Too much doesn’t suit you, doctor. I would suggest rest and a stay at my humble abode.”
“An offer I can’t refuse.”
“Gladstone would love it.”
“Gladstone will die…again.”
“I assure you, old boy, all experiments will be done with your supervision and authorization.”
“Unless I become the experiment. Then I can’t consent to anything. I’ll be dead.”
“I’ve never killed you.”
John giggled at that. “No…no you haven’t. Yet.”
“I don’t intend to. Ah, Clarky.” Sherlock stood to greet the man. “Just in time. And when I say ‘in time’ I mean horribly late.”
“Mister Holmes, I am –“ Constable Clark stood stiff.
“Oh stuff it. I’ve already surveyed the entire estate and have already drawn a conclusion.”
“And what is that, Holmes?” Lestrade stepped next to Clark.
“This man is in dire need of rest and cannot be questioned tonight. He is without reason in his mind and cannot form complete sentences. I need him to be escorted to my flat where he shall sober up for the night and be ready for our interventions tomorrow morning.”
John stared up with bleeding eyes. Deep down, he knew Sherlock was right. He needed rest and he was way too drunk to give straight answers. Well, more so, he just didn’t want t deal with it right now. Sherlock was doing him a favor.
“Holmes, you know it’s procedure to-”
“I’m fully aware, Lestrade, but instead of bickering why don’t you have your men in here surveying the room where the crime has taken place.”
“How do you know this is where it happened, Holmes?” Lestrade crossed his arms annoyed.
“Well, after surveying the house from the outside in, I have drawn the fact that this culprit did not break into the house, but invited themselves in. Possibly the culprit created a delusion, a cry for help perhaps? Mary, being the ever so helpful woman that she was, sought to attend this cry for mercy. The intruder comes into the foyer backing Mary into the stairs as you will find a piece of lace from her dress caught on the nail here.” By this time, Sherlock had led the two men down the stairs to imitate the scenario in his mind. “It snagged as she runs up the stairs, into the study.”
“How did she know to go there?” Clark asked writing this all down as they went.
“Watson’s revolver. He keeps it in his top drawer,” Sherlock mentioned as they continued upstairs back into the messy room. John had slumped over on his side, his eyes closed. “Unfortunately, Mary didn’t know he had it with him. That didn’t stop her from going through the drawers to find it, hence the scattered papers strewn on the floor.” Sherlock glanced at John as he was stepping backwards. He didn’t want to wake the poor man. “The intruder steps into the room. There’s a struggle. The woman’s wrists had bruises to show for it, if you haven’t seen them already. She grabs the letter opener-”
“How do you know she grabbed it, Holmes?” Lestrade asked with a small yawn.
Sherlock hesitated for a second. “Please, Lestrade. It’s very rude to yawn without covering your mouth. May I finish?” Lestrade rolled his eyes and let the man continue. “She grabs the letter opener and stabs the intruder. From the looks of the amount of blood, no severe damage was done. Possible leg wound, or shoulder. There are still signs of more struggling, possibly on the intruder’s behalf. The lamp is used as a distraction along with the chair to keep Mary at bay, or to push her back towards the balcony. From the amount of blood here-” the three men looked at the splatter on the floor as they are moving closer to the open balcony doors “- the intruder’s wound was aggravated, suggesting a hand to hand struggle which, in turn, continues out on the balcony.” Sherlock shuffled the snow away and found blood stains on the concrete floor. “That, unfortunately, leads to Mary’s demise.” They all looked over the edge as the police officers were carrying Mrs. Watson away in a body bag. Clark swallowed.
“You still didn’t answer my question, Holmes,” Lestrade said as they walked back into the room.
“Hmm? Ah yes, the opener. Well, inspector, if you were to look more closely, you will see that there are two different blood trails; the one leading out to the balcony and the one coming back into the room. Mrs. Watson had no such injuries. That leaves the culprit being injured by the opener. I have surveyed the house and have not found the object itself, which means, the culprit took it with them. And, unless he was a true mad man, he would not have wounded himself. I also notice that there is no blood leading out of the house. The culprit must've managed to keep him self from bleeding long enough to leave the house. He wouldn't have fought with the opener still in his body. He must have removed it and tossed it on the floor. But, now the main mystery is…who is the culprit? And that answer, gentlemen, will have to wait till tomorrow. We need a full survey from my dear friend whose current state is… vacant.” Watson snorted in his half sleep.
“You mean, you don’t know, Holmes?” Lestrade leered. Sherlock was undeterred.
Clark shook his hand he was writing so fast. Lestrade yawned again, but covered it with his hand this time. Sherlock stood still going over the details in his mind and suppressed the urge to do the same. He looked over to Watson again who was now snoring lightly. Sherlock sighed.
“Gentlemen. It has been quite an evening for my colleague. I shall see to his stature. Make full rounds. Take notes of everything.”
Sherlock watched the men go leaving him with his friend. He sauntered over to where John lay before kneeling down over him. He grabbed the empty bottle and took a swig. Nothing, just as he had deduced. He smirked.
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The Red Snow