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“I’d expect something like this from him, Sally, but from you?” Dimmock shook his head. “You know it’s against regulations, to say the least. Lestrade’s been targeted. He can’t stay on the case, even if he wasn’t in hospital. That’s why it’s been given to me.”
Sally fought the urge to roll her eyes at Dimmock’s stating of the obvious. She didn’t like the man. He was nowhere near the detective Lestrade was, but infinitely better at playing the political game. And he liked the Freak, even seemed to admire him in some ways. That would be enough to put him in her black books even if he wasn’t a bit of a bigot, which he was. Oh, he tried to hide it, said all the right things in public, but she’d had a lifetime of experience spotting those who would never believe that she could measure up due to her gender and race – and Dimmock pinged all of those buttons. Unfortunately, he was right about one thing. Lestrade was out. He and Watson were both under guard at hospital, while the doctors tried to work out exactly what had been used to drug the men and get them back to normal – or to what passed for normal, in Watson’s case. And as much as Sally wished she could think otherwise, there was more than enough evidence to prove that the man they’d caught running from the building – Daniel Whitmire – wasn’t the spree killer, but another potential victim and decoy. The Freak had been right about that, and the man who’d tried to kill Lestrade, and who had killed all those others, was still out there.
Before she could find the right words to press her case, a much deeper voice spoke up in her defense.
“Sergeant Donovan wasn’t suggesting that you return the investigation to Inspector Lestrade.” Holmes’ voice was clipped, cold, but not actively condescending. “She was merely pointing out that she, along with the rest of Lestrade’s team, have already been involved in this investigation to date. It simply makes sense that you avail yourself of her prior knowledge and temporarily assign her to your team, or whatever it is you have to do with paperwork to ensure that she remains on the case.” His gaze remained fixed on Dimmock, but Sally was suddenly certain that Sherlock was watching her somehow out of the corner of his eyes. “It’s a sensible offer, and she is more than competent to contribute to the investigation. I would certainly avail myself of the opportunity to work with her, if I was in your place.”
Sally wasn’t sure who was more surprised: Dimmock, at hearing something close to a polite suggestion from Holmes, or herself, at hearing what might almost be mistaken as praise, for her, coming from the Freak.
Dimmock frowned. “Are you saying that just because you want to work with her? No, that can’t be right.”
Holmes never blinked. “I have worked with Sergeant Donovan before. She can act as liaison between your team and myself, if that’s your preference.”
Okay, now Sally knew she’d somehow fallen into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Either that, or – and this was far more likely – the Freak was really determined to stay on this case. She had a sudden memory of Holmes’ behavior at Watson’s side, when the doctor was being loaded up on the ambulance, and she knew that her guess was right. She also had the gut-deep instinctive reaction that when they did finally catch up with the killer, she’d better make sure the Freak wasn’t let anywhere near the fellow, not if she wanted to avoid the paperwork involved when the ‘consulting detective’ assaulted someone – or if she wanted the killer to make it to trial.
Remembering how close they’d come to losing Lestrade to the maniac, Sally wasn’t entirely convinced that she’d mind if the killer met an unfortunate accident at the hands of the Freak, but that was all the more reason why she wasn’t going to let that happen. Even if it meant working with the Freak – and apparently, even if it meant the Freak willingly working with her.
Dimmock looked from Sally to Holmes with an increasingly skeptical and incredulous expression on his face. “Okay,” he said at last. “I know that there must be more going on here than you’re saying, but okay. Donovan, I’ll approve your temporary assignment to my squad. Just you, though; I’m not taking on anyone else, not even Anderson.”
Holmes’ lips quirked up into a tiny smile at that.
“And Sherlock, I’m happy to have you consulting on this just so long as you follow procedure, and don’t terrorize my team. Try to keep your interactions limited to me or to Donovan, would you?”
“Of course.”
Sally didn’t believe the Freak’s promise for a second, and Dimmock didn’t look like he bought it, either. His face briefly resembled someone who’d just bitten into a lemon, but then it smoothed out into something almost resembling a smile. “Well, that’s fine then. I know we all want the same thing, after all.”
No, they didn’t want the same thing. Sally knew it. She knew Dimmock wanted the credit for stopping the spree killer, succeeding where Lestrade had failed. She knew Holmes wanted the satisfaction of outsmarting a clever madman. And she? She wanted a lot of things, but as long as the killer was off the streets, that would be good enough for her, at least for the moment. So she sucked it up, put a smile on her face, and lied.
“Yes, of course we do.”
“Agreed,” echoed Sherlock Holmes.