Chapter Text
They arrive at Baker Street. It’s noon. Sherlock hasn’t eaten all day and John only ate breakfast. Sherlock is deep in thought… This case is more difficult than he thought it would be. The killer hasn’t left much evidence behind. Except the body. And the precise cut on it. He didn’t want to cut the organs. And he cut them off perfectly. He didn’t take the lungs. The victim was a smoker so they were not suitable for eating. Sherlock follows John in the flat. They hang their coats and the first thing Sherlock does is to sit in the desk and opens the laptop. He searches all the missing person cases from the past month. John looks at him.
“I am starving.” John says as he goes to the kitchen.
Sherlock doesn’t respond. John opens the fridge. He looks at his fridge drawer. Some leftover red sauce pasta, cheddar cheese, an opened heinz bean can and a lettuce head that has gotten all mushy and old. He sighs. He looks at Sherlock’s drawer. Just in case he has something eatable there. No surprise on his eyes as he looks at the human eyes in a jar and human hair in a strange light blue liquid. He takes the leftover pasta out and throws it in the microwave.
“You should eat something.” John says as he waits for the pasta to warm up.
“I am not hungry.” Sherlock responds his eyes locked on the laptop screen.
John knows that if he argues with him it will only make it worse so he doesn’t say anything. Sherlock is focused on the laptop as John makes some room in the kitchen island so he can eat. He carefully moves Sherlock’s stuff.
“You shouldn’t eat there. It’s full of chemicals.” Sherlock says.
John realises the truth in Sherlock’s words. He takes the plate on his hand.
“And put everything back the way you found it” Sherlock adds.
John sighs he knows how particular Sherlock gets with his stuff. “I was gonna…” he says quietly as he puts everything back. He sits on the couch and he starts eating. Sherlock’s back for a view.
Before John finishes Sherlock’s phone rings. Sherlock looks at it. It’s Ivan. He lets a soft sigh before getting up and going to his room to answer.
“Ivan I told you I am busy.”
“Oh come on I just want to see you a bit.”
“No… you don’t understand… I can’t. Not now.”
“Yes I get it you have a case. But come on… no time for me? Just for a bit… an hour is fine.”
“You’re being incredibly clingy and it’s annoying.” Sherlock says. He feels annoyed but he also feels recognised. He secretly likes that Ivan feels like this. It’s like he secretly won him over.
“Yeah you don’t give me any other choice here… please come just for an hour”
“It’s not about the time I am missing on the case. It’s about my concentration. If I leave the case to come to your place even if it is for 5 minutes I will get tracked down.”
“I track you down?”
“Yes apparently you do. So the less you talk to me the faster I’ll get over with this case.”
“Do you even want to get over the case?”
Sherlock doesn’t respond at first but Ivan on the other side of the line waits. “Uh- yes… Yes. Yes of course I do.”
Ivan sighs “okay then. Call me when you finish then yes?”
“Okay Ivan… I will.” He says more softly.
“And when is that exactly?”
“I don’t know. It’s still hard to tell.”
“Okay. Fuck you.” A pause “I needed to get that out of my system sorry.”
“Understandable.” Sherlock says his smile appearing.
“Bye Sherlock”
“Goodbye Ivan.”
Ivan hangs up the phone. Sherlock lowers it from his ear. He already feels tracked down from the case. He sighs and rubs his eyes. He takes a deep breath before opening the door to go back to the laptop again.
John is half asleep on the couch as Sherlock comes. He sees Sherlock and opens his eyes. “Everything alright?”
Sherlock nods.
“Who was it on the phone?”
“Lestrade.”
“Oh okay. Anything new?”
“No not really…” Sherlock says as he continues his search.
“Well okay then I am going to sleep now. Wake me up if you find anything.”
Sherlock nods. John gets up and goes to his bedroom his door half open. Sherlock finds some missing suspects. Only two. But it’s better than nothing. They both fit the profile. A woman and a man. Relatively young. Same story with them. Quiet, no family… little to no friends for enough to eat and so on. Sherlock looks at their details. The woman has been missing for the last month. And the man over two months. He notes their names down to a paper and puts it next to the laptop. He brings his fingers together and rests his chin on them. He is thinking about all the possibilities and rules out the unrealistic ones in his head. But Ivan’s image still in the back of his mind. He has never been more annoyed by a situation. He gets up and goes to his room. He opens the drawer and takes out a little bag of coke. He looks at it. He did heroin yesterday. He conflicted either to use it or not. He doesn’t. He takes the nicotine patches instead he rolls up his sleeves and puts on one in each arm. The. He lies on his bed. He closes his eyes and enters his mind palace. Trying to make sense of all the information he has received. He stays there for a while. All he gets about the killer is the following. The killer was a surgeon, he has received medical training, he is between 40 to 50 years old. He could have been older judging by his fit state to fight effectively and kill so quickly. The killer is intelligent methodical and probably ritualistic. The organs aren’t just consumed, they are collected. He doesn’t kill out of rage, he kills out of compulsion.
He gets back to earth as he hears his phone ringing. It’s Lestrade. He answers quickly. “I am listening” he’s desperate to hear good news. Anything will do at this point.
“We checked out the surveillance cameras like you said. A woman went in the building. At 12:42pm But he left at 1am. But then she returned at 1:24am Alan was killed at 1:20am. She was the one who disturbed him.”
“I see… anything else?” Sherlock says.
“Yes. He have a figure dressed in black. Around 190cm. So he’s a man. We can’t see his face. But his clothes look expensive. Tailored even. He came out of the building at 1:34am. And then it seems like he headed left.”
“I am on my way, stay where you are.” Sherlock says with excitement. He hangs up the phone.
He gets up from the bed. A little headache hits him from the nicotine. The rips the patches off and throws them in the trash. He knocks at John’s door hard and repulsive. “JOHN COME ON, THE GAME IS AFOOT!” He yells and he rushes to get his coat. John comes out of his room. He was clearly sleeping.
“Wha- what happened?” He asks rubbing his head
“Surveillance footage. Come on. Hurry.” He says as he puts his coat on.
John grabs his jacket and they get downstairs.
After a short cab ride they are in the police station. They get in the surveillance footage room. Lestrade waits for them there. He is drinking coffee his legs crossed. He gets up.
“Finally you’re here. Come on” he says as they go to a computer.
Lestrade shows the footage to John and Sherlock.
Sherlock observes the image. He looks at the woman going in the building then out the. Back in and out in the end. She saved the body. She just doesn’t know it. Sherlock thinks. Without her he would have no case. He secretly thanks her. The killer appearing to be walking out of the building a little later he is indeed dressed in good black tailored clothing. A tall man. His hands show he is white. His face hidden by a big hat. This man has taste. He moves smoothly. No rush. No panic. Almost calm. That’s all there is to see. But at least it’s something. Now they know who they are looking for.
Sherlock takes a step back. Calculating the possibilities. Every other victim had been removed, never found. But this one was left behind, liver and heart missing.
This is the first time the killer has been sloppy. Too sloppy. It’s like the killer knows he screwed up. He’s too smart to not acknowledge that. Sherlock remembers the footprints he saw. Size 12. Fit for the big man. Alan wore a size 10. And the shoes match the ones in the footage. Black and elegant leather shoes. Custom sole. Italian. Narrow width. Not off-the-shelf sneakers. Just like the forensics showed.
“This is harder than I thought it would be.” John says.
Sherlock almost dismisses him. “we have to do with a serial killer here. Of course it’s harder to trace a serial killer.”
“Yes. A killer kills for a personal reason, a serial killer doesn’t care who is going to die.” John says
“Bravo John. Yes that’s correct. Lestrade you can go now we won’t be needing you.”
Lestrade nods and leaves.
Sherlock and John stay in the room. Sherlock looking at the footage over and over again. It’s getting late.
“Sherlock can we go home? It’s one in the morning.” John says tired.
“Not yet John. I am not finished”
“But you are looking at the same footage for-“
Sherlock hushes him. “Shhhhh! I said I am not finished John.”
“Well I just feel useless here.”
“Well maybe you wouldn’t feel useless if you weren’t playing clash of clans on your phone.”
“It’s clash royal, and I have nothing else to do. We’ve watched the bloody thing a hundred times.”
Sherlock sighs. Even if he got home he would get any sleep. “Just for a little longer John.”
John rolls his eyes and returns to his phone. He is tired and sleepy.
Sherlock ignores John. He gets back to the killer. He has money or at least access to luxury. Enjoys control not just over the victim’s body, but over how he’s perceived. Possibly narcissistic, but hyper-disciplined. Likely holds a professional job something that masks his impulses behind charm and structure. And all that by the way he dresses. “He’s not hiding in the dark. He walks among us admired, unnoticed. Probably someone who speaks well. Dresses better.”
John who’s half asleep just says “mhm”
Sherlock continues. “I am going over to the forensics. Want to come?”
John shakes his head his eyes closed. “No mate…I’ll… stay… here”
Sherlock rolls his eyes. He goes to the forensics team. It’s 2am. They are closed. “Oh for fuck sakes!” He says out of frustration. He runs his hands on his hair. He returns back to John he opens the door harshly John wakes up. “What- what happened-“
“Let’s go home the forensics closed.”
“Thank goodness.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing… Let’s just go home.” John says as he gets up from his chair.
They both go home and sleep. Well at least John does.
The days pass and the case is going good. The forensics showed that the sole pattern isn’t retail.
The forensics team traces it to a custom leather shoemaker in the city. Only about 25 clients in the past year match the size and width.
They narrow it down using occupation involving frequent solo travel, night hours, or free movement without suspicion.
After a week of work only one name hits on all filters. Eugene Crane. Age 43. He works as a forensic accountant. Lives in a high-rise condo. Polished. Quiet. No criminal record. Stylish. Known by coworkers for being “a bit distant, but sharp as hell.” Always well-dressed. Never late. He has a medical school record. He finished it with a good grade but he only practiced 4 years before quitting.
By next week. The police tail Eugene discreetly. He’s composed. Predictable. Then Sherlock notices something. He changes his walking route home every other day.
Not because of traffic. Not for exercise. He’s checking for tails. He knows he is being watched.
They dig deeper and after 3 more days they find that Eugene has moved cities every 2–3 years for a decade. No family. No pets. No long term relationships. Always controlled exits.
Wherever he lived, at least one missing persons case was reported someone with fits the other victim’s profiles.
They have to catch him before he leaves London. And they have to be fast. Eugene is under 24 hour surveillance. They’re building a warrant carefully. He’s too smart to slip up twice.
But Sherlock feels the clock ticking.
One night, watching Eugene exit a jazz bar, perfectly dressed in black with leather gloves and a knowing smirk.
John and Sherlock are following him discreetly. Today is the day he goes down. He hasn’t noticed them yet.
Sherlock says quietly to John “He knows we’re coming. He’s just not sure when.” They are both waiting for Lestrade’s message so they can confirm they are ready.
Eugene is ready to leave the jazz bar. He’s looking at his phone his face cold. Lestrade texts Sherlock “go.”
John and Sherlock move to the killer. Both armed. Sherlock walks up to him. His look stern and cold. “Eugene Crane?”
Eugene looks at them. He is a handsome man. Green eyes. A big sharp nose, and a good structured jaw. Brown curly hair slicked back. “What can I help you with gentlemen?” he asks as he fixes his sleeves. Deep down knows he is caught.
Lestrade comes with the whole police department behind him. All running to him.
“And you must be mister Holmes.” He says with a smirk.
Sherlock nods. “Indeed I am.”
“Did you enjoy solving my case?” He asks cockily as Lestrade puts handcuffs on him dragging his body. But his eyes still locked on Sherlock.
“You were almost perfect… but even perfection leaves footprints.” Sherlock says. With the same cocky tone.
Lestrade blabbers the protocol in the background. “Eugene Crane, you are under arrest for murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”
“Yes I do.” He says as lestrade drags him in the car. Eugene’s eyes never leaving Sherlocks.
He leaves with the police car. Lestrade gets back to Sherlock and John. “Good job. Thank you you two.”
Sherlock nod. “Yes. It was a good job indeed”
John looks at Sherlock. “Well I am amused and tired. But most of all I am hungry.”
“Okay then. I’ll see you two.” Lestrade says and leaves.
“Hungry?” John asks Sherlock who probaby hasn’t eaten for days now.
“Let’s go.” Sherlock responds with a smirk his face satisfied. His hands behind his back.
They go to eat in a restaurant near Baker Street. The case is solved.