prettybirdy979: (Default)
[personal profile] prettybirdy979
  Title: Burning Hearts
Fandom: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock
Gene: Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mystery, Fluff
Character/s: Sherlock, Martin, Mycroft, John, Douglas, Carolyn, Arthur, Lestrade, Moriarty, OCs and other minor Sherlock characters
Rating: PG-13 
Summary: Round Two. Only this time, the stakes have changed... and so have the players.
Warnings: Violence. Bit of foul language. Spoiler for The Great Game.
Notes: Sequel to Thicker than Water. Reading that first will help understanding this fic.

Sorry for the delay- those essays were nasty things and there's still one to go. 

Thanks to Elvendork for her betaing. 

Chapter One
Chapter Two 
Chapter Three
Chapter Four  
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven 
Chapter Eight

Sherlock’s face broke. There was no other way for John to describe it. It was like something within him disappeared and a small part of that horror was reflected in his face. The look only lasted a moment before Sherlock was in a full sprint, John two steps behind him. The crew of MJN didn’t appear to be breathing, although Arthur was making some sort of whining noise.

“Hey! That’s my crime scene, you can’t go in there!” Gregson yelled as Sherlock brushed past. Sherlock’s response wasn’t that audible due to his running but John was fairly sure he told Gregson to do something physically impossible.

Of course he could be projecting  his own thoughts onto what he heard of Sherlock’s words.

The forensic personnel startled as the pair skidded into the room and none of them moved to make them leave. Sherlock
glanced around the empty room and finally looked down at the body.

And burst out in relieved laughter. John didn’t join in, but he found himself smiling and patting Sherlock on the back.

Even from the quickest glances, it was obvious this wasn’t Martin. The man on the ground had the same black hair as Sherlock and shared Sherlock’s height but little else, unlike the previous two bodies. But it was clear he was meant to be Sherlock’s double not Martin’s.

“Or?” Sherlock questioned, breaking into John’s thoughts.

John looked at his friend in confusion. “Or what?”

Sherlock sighed as an outraged Gregson finally entered the room. “You were thinking that this man is my double, not
Martin’s. That is an option, the other one being that it was assumed Martin was supposed to be a double for me while alive so a double for a double. Able to fool at a distance but not much else.” He frowned and bent down beside the body.
“In fact, this was a much more rushed dumping than the other two were. See how the clothes don’t fit as well; the shirt is at least two sizes too big. The dye job was rushed, jus-”

“I don’t give a damn what you think, Mr Holmes, you are trespassing on a crime scene and if you don’t leave right now I will arrest you.” Gregson said, moving to stand beside Sherlock in an attempt to get right into his face.

Sherlock gave Gregson a bored glare before turning with a swirl of his coat. But he didn’t walk out, instead marching over to one of the still staring forensic personnel who was holding a plastic evidence bag. With a clearly fake smile he covered the man’s hands with his own, then stepped away. The man stared at him bewildered, turning his hands over as if to see what
Sherlock was after.

It took John a second to realise that by continuing to look at the man and his hands, he was looking at the wrong thing. It was only when Sherlock had to shove the evidence bag between his knees as he pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from his pockets that the trick Sherlock had just pulled became obvious.

Sherlock had the wallet out of the evidence bag, and was examining it from all angles before anyone else in the room made the connection.

“That is evidence! You can’t touch that.” Gregson all but screamed. He raised a threatening hand as he moved towards Sherlock, causing John to step between them. John pulled himself to his full height, adopted a military stance and was pleased to see Gregson falter.

“This isn’t Martin Crieff’s wallet. They are his bank card and license but the wallet is new. Brand new, actually and the license-” Sherlock stopped as he began to pull out the cards inside the wallet.

Gregson blinked. “How on Earth do you know that?”

Sherlock ignored him, instead choosing to wave the driver’s license in the air. John recognised it as one of the newer ones with a photo which surprised him. Martin seemed a lot older than that...

“This is your identification for this body?” Sherlock bellowed. He got right up into Gregson’s face, his grey eyes cold and angry. “This
obviously fake driver’s license?”


Sherlock growled and threw his hands up in the air. “This license is fake! No, not fake.” He paused for a second then reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He ran the knife gently along the edge of the license and smiled as his knife slipped under the lamination. Still moving gently, he peeled it off, taking the photo with it. Triumphant he shoved the original license under Gregson’s nose.

John caught a glimpse of it and wasn’t surprised to see Martin’s photo there. Gregson, however seemed  surprised to see the photo. He looked between Martin’s photo and Sherlock causing Sherlock to roll his eyes.

“No, it’s not me.”

“Then...what?” Gregson stuttered. Sherlock ignored him. Instead he moved back to beside the body and ran his eyes over it again.

“So, Moriarty-”

“Moriarty?” Gregson asked.

“Yes. Shut up now.” Sherlock said, waving a hand at the police detective. “Moriarty kidnaps Martin...No, he’s been killing look-a-likes and goes after Martin as another. But for some reason Mycroft is there which makes him curious. Martin doesn’t appear to be that important, not on paper so he changes his plans. Quickly finds a man of similar build to me, goes to give him Martin’s wallet. But Martin’s license has a photo, because the last one was lost recently. So he has to get it out in order to change the photo. I brought Martin that wallet ten years ago, so it’s old, falling apart. It falls apart beyond use when Moriarty uses it. So he replaces it not thinking it matters.”

“What do you mean, you brought the victim the wallet? What are you talking about Mr Holmes?” Gregson finally overcame
his bemusement to start asking questions.

“Shut up! The man wasn’t killed here and by the state of his hands he’s homeless. You’re looking for an alleyway close to here, isolated but easily accessed. Most likely the murder weapon is still there or in a nearby alleyway. However the hair was dyed here- the floor over in that corner is far too clean for the rest of the room. The photo of the body was taken there; see how that bit of wall matches the background in the photo. Also the van across the road was used in a kidnapping. I’ll report it later or get one of Martin’s crew members to do so. Talk to the police in Fitton and Lestrade; between the lot of you, you might be able to come up with a few useful leads. Send Lestrade to me if you find anything, I don’t want to see you. In fact, remove yourself from this case. I refuse to have my brother’s life depending on you.”

Sherlock swirled his coat again and stormed out of the room. John went to follow but was stopped when Gregson grabbed his arm.

“ For real?” Gregson asked softly. John just nodded, his eyes hard.

“That freak has a family?” A voice from the other side of the room asked. John spun around fast enough to break Gregson’s hold on him. His glare caused all people in the room to sink back, trying to become a part of the wall. John didn’t say a word but the look in his eyes was all it took for forensics to decide they needed to do something else.

In another room.

“He is being serious?” Gregson asked, not having gotten the hint. John turned his glare on the police detective who flinched but didn’t back down.

“Yes.” John finally answered. “Martin is his younger brother.”

Gregson sighed. “I’ll do what I can to help then.” At John’s suddenly confused look he gave a small, sad smile. “I had a younger brother who went missing. Don’t get me wrong, I still do not like Sherlock Holmes or his methods but I wish... I
wish I could have done what he is doing right now. Could have done more...”

He blinked and looked away, his eyes falling on the body. John took that as his cue to follow Sherlock, though a soft statement had him pause at the doorway.

“Make sure you find Martin Crieff, Doctor. Or it will break him inside. Trust me, your friend’s life is in as much danger as his brother’s is.”

Next Chapter


prettybirdy979: (Default)

July 2013

 1234 56

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 26th, 2017 05:59 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios