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“And nobody touched the body?”
Sherlock stood over a mangled corpse in the middle of a field. On the other side of the body, as if in an odd triangle, stood Lestrade and Donovan. John stayed at home with Rosie who had come down with a stomach bug so Sherlock flew solo on this case.
“No, I told you, we were called out to the scene, I saw the body and called you. Haven’t even called in forensics yet.”
“Hmmm,” Sherlock crouched down and, using a pen, moved some of the victim's hair out of his face. “Only or youngest child, middle-class parents, jobless, would rather travel and live in hostels than work, fancies himself an artist, not very good.”
He looked up at the cloudless sky, eyes squinting as if he was looking for something.
“Unless someone pushed him out of an aeroplane, there’s no way this man could have fallen to his death,” Greg said as Sherlock climbed to his feet. “Yet everything points to cause of death being heavy impact.”
“I may want to call Molly in,” Sherlock murmured.
“Why?” Sally asked incredulously. “You’ll make her work the body when it gets brought into the morgue anyway, why make her come out to the arse end of London just to look at a body? Besides,” she continued. “She’s a pathologist, not a forensic technician.”
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock continued to text. ‘Very well, Donovan, call in forensics if you’re so inclined.” He glanced up from his phone to Greg with a grin. “An eight hopefully.”
“Oh, well, glad I could entertain you.”
“You wouldn’t have called if you didn’t think it worthy, Lestrade.” Sherlock responded, slipping his phone back into his pocket. As his hand slid from his pocket, a woman’s moan broke the silence of the field.
All movement stopped.
Sally, who’d been on the phone with dispatch to call the forensic team out, slid her phone into her jacket pocket, her gaze bouncing between Sherlock and Greg, who wore identical expressions of confusion and horror. Her smile grew as she watched Sherlock scramble for his phone.
“It’s not what you think,” he hastened to explain, genuinely nervous. “I deleted her number, I…”
Sally began to laugh as, sighing, Greg pulled his own phone out of his pocket and checked it.
“About that…” he stalled.
“This is happening? Is this happening?” Sally bit her lip in pure glee as she watched Sherlock move as if he were in slow motion, his hand sliding from his pocket and his head tilting up to glare at Greg.
“Wha-”
“Greg’s been on the pull with Adler.” Sally all but burst out, unable to contain her excitement at the turn of events. This might be better than Christmas.
“This is brilliant. Greg, you don’t have to get me a birthday present because the look on Holmes’ face is worth everything.”
Just then, Greg’s phone moaned again Sherlock pulled a face that until then she thought had only been perfected by Mycroft Holmes.
Bending over, her hands on her knees, she laughed until it turned to coughing.
“Lestrade!” Sherlock’s horrified voice only made her laugh more.
“Look.” Greg’s voice resigned. “She was at a club I was staking out. We started talking and-
“You had sex with her?”
She didn’t even know Sherlock’s voice could raise and crack like that. Tears were streaming down her cheeks but she didn’t care.
“Oooooo, stop, let me catch my breath.” She gasped between giggles. Sherlock glared at her.
“This is hardly amusing.”
“You’re right, this is bloody hysterical.” Her giggles refused to subside.
The third moan broke Sally up all over again. Greg growled under his breath, hurriedly typing something back.
“I can’t believe you’re...you’re…”
“On the pull with Irene Adler?” Sally supplied helpfully.
Sherlock looked as if he was about to pull his hair out.
“Look,” Greg tried again as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Can we move past this? It’s just a thing. She has needs, I have needs-”
“I do not need to hear about your needs, Greg.”
Sally began laughing again.
“Can we just forget about it for right now and focus? On the body? The one who fell from great heights from seemingly nowhere?” Greg almost begged.
“Forensic...will be here...in about twenty.” Sally managed to get out. Her giggles had lowered into snickers. “Probably less now.”
“Great. So we can get back to the case then.”
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and he studied Greg for a moment. “Fine. But after this, you and I are going to talk.”
“Can I come?” Sally asked, still snickering.
“No.” Both men said simultaneously.
“Deal.” Greg agreed. Sherlock nodded slowly.
“And we don’t tell anyone else about this.”
“Absolutely bloody agreed.”
Two sets of eyes looked to her and Sally raised her hands in acquiescence.
“My price was telling you about it. I’m good. Haven’t seen the boss this relaxed in years so I’m not about to say anything.”
Sherlock rubbed his head, looking like he was in pain. “I do not need to know that either.”
In the distance, the sound of sirens broke through the field, and Greg headed towards the sound, to catch the driver’s attention as to where they should park.
Still grinning, Sally sidled up to Sherlock.
“Well,” she said, a mischievous tone in her voice. “Looks like you and Lestrade have something in common.”
“Dammit Donovan!”