Chapter Text
It had been a week since their last case and Sherlock Holmes was growing restless again, much to the annoyance of his long-suffering friend and flat mate John Watson. Various human and ‘other’ body parts had taken over the fridge and Sherlock had spent a few days poking and prodding them before he lost interest.
Then he had tortured his violin for twenty-four hours straight, until he’d had to use the bathroom and John had taken his chance to hide the instrument at the very back of the cleaning supplies cupboard as it was the one place John knew Sherlock would not go near. In fact, John seriously doubted that Sherlock knew the cupboard even existed.
Now Sherlock was sprawled out on the sofa in the middle of an epic sulk, while John had cleaned up all experiments and updated his blog. All things considered, it was one of the less-volatile post-case scenarios.
To be honest, John was enjoying the peace and quiet. He enjoyed their cases and chases as much as Sherlock did, but unlike a certain consulting detective he shared his flat with, John could appreciate the luxury of doing nothing but sit and drink tea for a while.
John often wondered whether this admiration for a nice little cuppa had to do with the fifteen years he had served in the British army. No matter where he had been stationed in Afghanistan or Iraq, somehow sand and dust had always managed to find its way into every tea cup he’d ever been given in combat zones.
There was a faint knock on the door before Mrs. Hudson entered.
“Oh boys, didn’t you hear the doorbell? It’s been ringing for a while,” she chastised her two tenants as she stood in the doorway to the upstairs flat.
“It was a nuisance, so I got rid of it,” Sherlock explained, his words muffled by the sofa cushion he had his head buried in.
“It’d be nice if at least one of you could answer their mobile, guys,” came the decidedly male voice of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade from behind the kind old landlady, who had turned back around to go back to her own flat.
That immediately got Sherlock’s attention, the epic sulk a thing of the past as he struggled to sit up as quickly as possible.
“Are you here for a case, Lestrade?” he asked as the Detective Inspector stepped into the main room of 221b Baker Street.
“Hello to you, too, Sherlock. Hi John!” Lestrade grinned at the doctor next to him.
John had got up from his armchair and walked over to shake his friend’s hand.
“Good to see you, Greg.”
“Yes, yes, hello. Now why are you here, Lestrade?” Sherlock said, clearly annoyed that he still hadn’t got to the juicy details of a new case.
“Got a case for you, if you’re up for it” Lestrade explained, glancing at John who had to suppress the urge to fist pump the air.
“He’ll take anything you’ve got, Greg. He’s been a right nightmare this past week. Please tell me you’ve got something that’ll take him more than five minutes to solve!” the doctor pleaded with the DI.
“Well, two students were found dead at Devereux College this morning. Apparently the parents asked for you specifically to look into it and seeing as you’re consulting for us, Scotland Yard got the case,” Lestrade explained.
Greg was looking at John rather than Sherlock, and therefore missed how the consulting detective visibly perked up at the mention of the school. He’d earlier received a text from Mycroft alerting him of the deaths at Devereux, but he had passed it off as an attempt by his annoying brother to get him to work for the government – again.
“Isn’t Devereux a bit outside your jurisdiction, Lestrade? It’s not even in London,” Sherlock said as he got up from the sofa in order to get changed.
“Well, as I said Sherlock, they specifically asked for you and since you are with Scotland Yard and these two deaths are treated as unexplained, that makes this my case.”
“Hang on, Greg. Devereux College? That’s that big, posh boarding school out near Blackwater, isn’t it?” John interrupted and both detectives turned to look at him.
“Yes, it’s a co-educational independent college, astronomical fees, hideous uniforms and, if you believe their promotional literature, it’s one of the best schools in the country. Most of the students are the children of diplomats, MPs and assorted nobility. How do you know about Devereux, John?” Sherlock asked.
“Somehow I doubt you’d ask me that question if this had happened at Eton or Harrow. Everybody knows those two,” John laughed.
“As you well know, Sherlock, I used to be an army doctor in the Royal Army Medical Corps as well as a Captain in the British Army. As such, I had to complete officer training courses. A short course for the RAMC, and the full course to be sent out into the field as a combat soldier. What I’m trying to say is, I attended the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst. Twice. And Devereux College…” John started to explain.
“…shares a border fence with the wooded training area at Sandhurst, which is right next door,” Sherlock finished the sentence as John nodded.
Sherlock gave John a curious look. He had momentarily forgotten about the Military Academy and that John would have gone there. The fact that John knew exactly where this school was actually impressed him.
“Ok, so does this mean you guys are coming, then?” Greg Lestrade asked and looked from one man to the other.
“That depends, Detective Inspector. You still haven’t told us what this case is about. Unless all you came here for was to quiz us about our geographical knowledge in relation to the United Kingdom’s best schools, then well done.” Sherlock remarked and John shot him a glance that meant to tell him to be more polite.
“It’s the end of the mid-term holidays and a lot of the students actually stayed behind at school. Two of them, a boy and a girl, were found dead in their respective dorm rooms early this morning. They lived in different halls of residence, they were in different years and as far as we can tell, they didn’t share any classes. I’m heading out there now, but from the paramedics’ statements, there was no foul-play involved as far as they could tell and no suicide notes at the scenes. They simply fell over and died. And you’ve got to admit, that’s suspicious,” Greg explained.
Sherlock hummed in agreement.
“I’ll take the case. We’ll follow in a few minutes. Unless you want to bring in the consulting detective the parents specifically requested while he’s still in his dressing gown,” Sherlock said and pointed at his bare feet and blue dressing gown.
“Yeah that’s fine. I’ll head out and meet you there. The bodies have not yet been moved, I told them to wait until you’ve had a look. Do you know how to get there?”
“Trust me, Lestrade, I know where Devereux College is,” Sherlock called over his shoulder as he disappeared into his bedroom.
John showed Greg out and promised that the two of them would be along shortly. He hadn’t been to Sandhurst in years. Maybe he’d get the chance to visit again. Surely they’d receive a Victoria Cross recipient, even unannounced, who wants to see his old training grounds again?
While John still pondered this and made sure he’d have his Captain’s ID on him just in case, Sherlock was getting changed. He re-read Mycroft’s text and hated the fact that a case his brother tried to get him in on actually sounded interesting enough for him.
A few minutes later, he emerged from his room dressed in a stylish suit and with his mop of curls more or less tamed. Sherlock shrugged on his Belstaff coat and together, the two men left Baker Street.
Just as they were settling into their cab to the station, Sherlock’s phone alerted him to a call from Mycroft.
“What is it Mycroft? I trust you’re happy you won and I’m on my way to Devereux College?” Sherlock grumbled as he picked up, causing John to chuckle slightly next to him.
“I can barely contain myself, I can assure you, little brother. From what we’ve been able to determine so far, this case does have similarities with what happened 20 years ago and I will look into this further. The boy was found in Carlton House, the girl was found in Ponsonby Hall. I trust you’ll find your way around school grounds,” Mycroft said.
“I’m sure we’ll manage.”
“Excellent. I’ve arranged for you, John and Detective Inspector Lestrade to be brought straight to the Headmaster’s office to discuss the case. He is expecting you. He also expects you to treat this case with discretion. There is a reason they insisted to bring you in for help. Oh, and Sherlock?”
“Yes, Mycroft?”
“Give my regards to Headmaster Gordon.”