Chapter Text
“It’s so obvious! How can you lot be so daft?” Sherlock was pacing and throwing his hands up in the air, trying to prove that it was the wife who killed her husband’s brother.
“Look at this picture, right here!” He pointed to a picture that was on the nightstand in the suspects bedroom. Lestrade, John, Anderson, Donovan, and he were standing around in the suspects bedroom. Anderson and Donovan still looked confused, Donovan also was staring at him with contempt.
“I...I don’t see it, what are we looking at?” Anderson spoke up.
“Ugh, just think for once! Use that mind of yours, and observe the photo!” he was getting more agitated by the second. ‘Seriously how daft can people be?’
“The photo! Look at her shoes! The way she’s holding on to her husband’s arm. The barely hidden contempt in her eyes as she’s looking at the brother.” The three of them all lean in closer to look at the photo, except for John.
After a few minutes the three straighten up, Lestrade shaking his head and quietly saying “well I'll be” with awe in his voice. The other two both look at him with bitterness and revulsion. Donovan mutters a “freak” under her breath.
As he was pacing and trying to convince them, his mobile kept ringing. He finally picks it up, and as soon as he hears what the other person says, he freezes, all color draining from his face, not hearing anything else. John glances over to him and finds that he is pale and frozen, “Sherlock, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“It's probably nothing.” Donovan says “yeah, he probably just found out the morgue has no more bodies for him to experiment on” Anderson pipes up from next to Donovan.
John just shoots them a look and they both shut up immediately. As that took place, Sherlock's mobile slipped from his fingers, landing with a thump on the ground. John and Lestrade tried to get his attention, to tell them what’s wrong. After a few minutes of nothing working, John bent down and picked up the mobile, seeing that the person had already hung up, he slipped it into one of his pant’s pockets.
“Come on Sherlock, talk to us, tell us what happened” Lestrade urged, while reaching out to put his hand on his shoulder.
After a few more seconds of Sherlock staring off into space, ‘probably his mind palace’ John reasoned to himself. Sherlock finally said something, his voice brittle and wispy, sounding like he’s going to cry, which caused Anderson and Donovan who were still in the room to look up with surprise and a little bit of concern. Since they have never seen Sherlock cry, ever. Sherlock says, “it’s my brother” choking on the last word.