Drip...

Drip… Drip… Drip...

Alone and angry, Sherlock is thrown into a mysterious case with no clear clues or any ideas to help solve it.

This is for the Sherlock fanfiction competition.

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5. Evidence.

Gleaming lights which lit up the Metropolitan police logo on a murky black board confirmed that Greg or his standard issue police satnav had chosen the correct location. A sleek orange, yellow and blue Vauxhall Astra dived into the marked parking lot in a hurry as the clock ticked on. The door was ferociously slammed shut as the panicked gentleman in dark blue padded police uniform ran into the vast illuminated glass skyscraper. He charged into one of the labs on the third floor panting wildly.

“You’re late Lestrade!” Sherlock declared.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. You can’t just run away from a crime scene you know Sherlock: that’s the criminal’s job. I have a responsibility to sort out the force!” He almost yelled in frustration. Sherlock gave him a disapproving look and then turned back to the lab desk he was originally working at.

“Fortunately for us, there are those of us who don’t have your priorities and can actually get to doing what’s important!” he snapped viciously. He sighed before apologising for his behaviour. His pair of specialised lab goggles and long white coat protected him and his clothing from the chemicals he was using on the samples of blood and dust which lay before him in several sterile dishes.

“Got anything yet?” Lestrade persisted.

“Of course…”

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