The Curious Case of a Defective Detective

(Note: This is pre-TGG as much as possible..)

In a lab just outside London a chemist called Andrew Stagg was working on finishing his reports. He yawned then sighed; he had been working all night and now heading home was going to be a challenge.

Andrew closed his laptop; went to place it in the Targus case and headed out. He said goodbye to the receptionist and headed to his car. He unlocked it and went to get in, then all went black.

Two hours later

DI Lestrade was sitting there at his desk; he hated paperwork with a vengeance and his team were dealing with a simple murder when he got the call that brightened his day. Chemist been found dead in car park, not CCTV footage available - a case for Sherlock maybe

Lestrade then called the consulting detective.

"Sherlock, could come and have a look at a case for us?"

Sherlock had been sat in the flat all day feeling rather bored. It had been a quiet week and it was starting to make him feel edgy, especially now John had got himself a 9 to 5 job. Well, someone had to bring in the money, he reasoned, but all the same, he'd prefer to have John at home to amuse him. He'd spent the morning finishing off an experiment and writing up the results. That occupied his time quite nicely. Then he'd turned his attention to the violin and had spent an hour working on a few new melodies. Now he'd begun to run out of options. He paced the flat with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his dressing gown. He was onto his last nicotine patch. He was just about to take out his phone and text John to pick up some more on his way home, when to his surprise the phone started ringing. He felt his heart beat a little faster. He /never/ got phone calls unless it was a case. Sherlock whipped out his phone, saw it was Lestrade calling, and did a small victory leap in his living room. Trying to sound casual, he answered the call.

"Sherlock Holmes?....um, when?....I suppose I could spare the time....See you shortly."

He hung up in a state of delirious excitement, grabbed his coat and scarf and took off down the 17 steps of 221B and out the door, where he instantly hailed a cab and leapt in. On the way he text John to let him know what was going on - and to remind him about the nicotine patches. Within 20 minutes he had arrived at Scotland Yard. He gave his name in at reception and was shown through to the room where Lestrade was waiting for him. He smiled and shook his hand warmly.

"You said you had something for me?"

Lestrade was glad that Sherlock was to have a look at the case. Lestrade shook Sherlock's hand and then nodded and led him to his office.

"Ah, thanks for coming in. We have a mysterious death, Andrew Stagg from Brentford, a research chemist at BioPharm was found dead in his car early hours of this morning. No CCTV footage available. Cause of death is unknown. Anderson is already there."

Lestrade passed the file to Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Anderson. Brilliant. He quickly scanned his eyes through the file. Nothing particularly remarkable as of yet although the case certainly presented some interesting features. He was looking forward to viewing the body and scene of the crime.

"I'll follow on in a cab." he said.

Lestrade glanced over whilst Sherlock was reading the file. He then nodded and gave Sherlock the address. Lestrade went downstairs, Sherlock closely behind. They then took the different methods of transport.

They arrived almost within minutes of each other. Lestrade was being briefed by Anderson whilst DS Donovan was glaring at Sherlock.

Andrew Stagg was still in the car, rigor mortis had set in however the face was in a harsh grin. Lestrade waited for Sherlock to try and piece together the situation.

Sherlock peered into the car through the open door and inspected the body of Andrew Stagg with a great deal of interest.

"No marks or abrasions...no clear cause of death." he glanced into the back seat of the car, and scanned his eyes over the passenger seat.

"This door," he said. "Was it open when you found him or closed?"

Lestrade walked over. He saw the gleam in the Consulting Detective's eyes.

"Both doors were closed." spoke Lestrade.

"Interesting." Sherlock closed the door and stood back from the car, trying to imagine it as it was. "So he's just finished work and he's on his way home. Gets in the car....closes the door..."

He suddenly had another idea and leapt towards the car again, opening the door of the drivers side. "He didn't even have time to put his keys in the ignition. They're still in his hand see? And his seat belt. Didn't have time to put that on either. He just got in, closed the door, and BAM. Dead. Did anyone at work mention him looking ill or complaining of feeling sick?"

Lestrade was watching the process when Sherlock spoke to him. And then leant forward to see what Sherlock was going on about.

"Mmm..he has had flu recently. But that's all. Do you want the autopsy results?"

Lestrade called to ensure that the body can be collected with care.

"Definitely," Sherlock nodded. "If you can get him to St Bart's I'll pop down later and have a look for myself. See if John can come along to give his medical opinion."

He leant in closer to the corpse and peeled back the man's shirt slightly. "It'll be interesting to see him with his clothes off," he muttered, not really caring how that sounded.

"Did he have any enemies that we know of?"

Lestrade nodded "St Bart's it is." He then ordered the body to be removed carefully as soon as Sherlock had finished the preliminaries.

Lestrade looked down at his notebook; "No enemies as such however he was involved in an altercation at a conference last week. Biological Weaponry Advancement Conference in Leeds."

As soon as Sherlock stood to right himself, he felt a small prick at the back of his leg.

Sherlock rubbed the back of his leg idly with his hand, not thinking anything of it.

"Fine. If you could get me the details of who he was arguing with and what went on I'd be much obliged." Sherlock closed the door of the car again and shifted the position of his coat collar. "I'm heading back to Baker Street. Call me when the body's at Barts and I'll come and take a look."

Lestrade looked cautiously at Sherlock; and then headed into the office to get the information from Stagg's colleagues.
Lead scientist, disagreement at conference about research proposal into biochemical warfare, slight physical disturbance. Bit of a loner at times

Lestrade heads to the morgue; and then let's Sherlock know. He hated cases like this, too many unknowns. He waited with the coroner.

Sherlock was sat in his armchair at 221B waiting to hear back from Lestrade. He was feeling a bit dizzy to be honest, and was pissed off that John still hadn't returned from work. Did he have a date tonight? He vaguely remembered him attempting to have a conversation whilst Sherlock was busy on one of his experiments but obviously he didn't listen.

He rubbed his eyes slowly, trying to remember the last time he'd eaten anything. He hated eating whilst working on a case but he felt like he might faint if he didn't force something down. He stood up and made his way into the kitchen, peered inside the fridge. It wasn't exactly appetising. There was some stale bread. That would have to do. He grabbed a piece and began to chew on it miserably, collapsing back onto the chair. He began to wonder that it was possibly eating mouldy bread that made him feel sick in the first place. He hurled it away, wishing he had some cigarettes.

Sherlock closed his eyes and rubbed his temples where his head ached, then he heard his phone beep in his pocket. He took it out and looked. It was Lestrade. He was at the morgue. Sherlock knew he should be excited, but getting up out of his chair started to seem like a real effort. He groaned and hauled himself up. He headed over to the desk to get his coat which he had draped over the back of the chair. He was just putting it on and walking towards the stairs when the room started spinning, his legs gave way underneath him and everything went black.

Lestrade was at the morgue, waiting for Sherlock - it had been thirty minutes - very unlike Sherlock. He then checked his phone for traffic accidents from Baker Street to here - there were none.

Lestrade was getting concerned about the consulting detective. He would call John and make his way over to Baker Street. The coroner would send over the results, he then told them not to destroy too much of the evidence.

He jumped into the police car and then called John impatiently waiting for him to answer.

(( we need to bring in John now right? did we get any volunteers? ))

(I will set up a John if necc - no volunteers came up I do not think - I can do it later - admin at work :-( )

John was on his way back from Tesco when he received the call from Lestrade, he heard the anguish in his voice. He headed back to Baker Street at once, he keyed open the door and ran upstairs seeing the unconscious detective on the floor.

He instantly went into medic mode and checked his friend for wounds that would contribute to him being unconscious. He then shook his shoulders "Can you hear me Sherlock?"

Tachycardia, clammy skin, shocky. All signs of shock, however no apparent cause so leaves poison or drugs

John then called Lestrade.

Lestrade was in the police car when he got the call from John stating that Sherlock was in fact not well. The ambulance was enroute, and Lestrade was concerned that Sherlock had slipped into his old ways or it was poison.

He then reached Baker Street, and ran upstairs seeing the army medic kneeling over the detective.

"What happened John?"

He hoped the ambulance would arrive quickly, for Sherlock's sake.

John was kneeling next to Sherlock when he heard the door. He hoped it was the ambulance so he was slightly shocked when it was Lestrade.

"He is in shock, looks like a poison. I cannot do anything for him here, he needs a full set of blood tests." He then heard the siren of the ambulance and he debriefed the medics, he hoped that the detective would regain some form of consciousness.

"What happened? He left me a message saying about a case but I was out."

John got in the ambulance, and spoke to Lestrade. "I'll meet you at Barts." the paramedic closed the door and they headed off.
John monitored the vitals of the ailing detective, and he frowned.

"What have you got yourself into Sherlock?"

Lestrade looked at John with concern, there had been many a time that Sherlock was involved in something, but him laying there on the floor sickened him.

Lestrade ran through the case and explained where Stagg worked, what he was researching.

As Sherlock was led into the ambulance,he then looked to John as if no words were needed.

"Meet you there. Look after him John."

John listened to the concerned DI and had deduced a few ideas of what was the cause of the detective's collapse. He then got in the ambulance making a mental note of what they should test for.

Stagg involved in neurotoxic research, not good.

John then sat near his friend, and held Sherlock's hand.

"Please wake up."

Lestrade arrived just before the ambulance did, he waited impatiently needing a cigarette. He then decided to call Mycroft and explain the situation.

The ambulance arrived on blues and twos - waiting there for John and Sherlock to be wheeled in.
Greg saw John's face and felt sick.
God sake - not tonight

John was in the ambulance - Sherlock crashed. His blood pressure fell and he went into cardiac arrest - John's medical mind was on overload and could not process anything. His best friend was laying there dying and all he could think about was Sherlock Holmes. The paramedics regained a pulse and control, however John knew this was the least of Sherlock's worries.

The ambulance arrived and John stepped out seeing a disturbed DI Lestrade, he went up to him.

"He's strong, he will get through this. But I need help, any information on Stagg's research. I need to find an antidote quickly."

Sherlock was wheeled into the hospital where he was then assessed. John took a deep breath.

Lestrade was smoking - he had not had a cigarette for weeks but he needed this. When he saw Sherlock being wheeled away and a disheveled Dr Watson - his heart sunk.

Lestrade passed a piece of paper with the research details, it was not good. The medical terminology was beyond his own understanding

"I hope so, he looks so sick. What you think?"