Title: Mythology And Murder- A Mystery In the A Different Take Universe

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Original Character, plus an appearance or two of Mycroft Holmes and Anthea

Genre: Humor, Friendship, Mystery, Drama,

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Allusions To Past Drug Abuse,

Author's Notes: This story is set in the A Different Take Universe I have written. The three main installemnts are bA Scandal In Belgravia, The Hounds Of Bakserville,/b andbReichenbach Falls/b. This one here takes place after bASIB/b.

Summary: A series of murders where the murder weapons are a bit baffling to some has Lestrade and his team frustrated and at wits end. Lestrade has no choice to call in Sherlock. But what no one expected were the surprises Sherlock would bring with him.

Apologies to all for the lateness. Real life can be quite a hassle. Thanks to everyone who has read and followed this story. I hope you all are enjoying it.


Chapter 3

Unfortunate Timing Of Words


Date: October 1st, 2010

Location: Conference Room In Convention Center

Time: A bit past three


Well this is interesting...

John looks between the Detective Inspector, Sherlock and the woman Sherlock just introduced as... as his mother. Sherlock looks amused, the DI looks stunned, the woman- er Sherlock's mum, looks a little amused herself.

Really looking at her John can see the resemblence between the two of them. Physically definitely. The pale blue eyes, the pale skin, the black hair. She's slender as well, but not unhealthily skinny like Sherlock.

"Everything will be further explained Lestrade," Sherlock speaks up after a few moments, "but I need a couple minutes with the body first. So.. if you do not have any objections-"

"Ah, yes," Lestrade speaks up then, "There's another conference room we can go to. Uh Ms Holmes, I mean-"

"Ms Holmes will be just fine," she says before looking at John. He notices the curiosity in her eyes. "I'm sure a spare conference room will be just fine."

Lestrade nods and begins to escort her out, saying something to a Sgt that's nearby and he nods coming to stand by the door.

"John, go on with the two of them."

"You sure?"

Sherlock nods as his attention moves from the conversation to the body. John knows he won't be able to get anything else out of him until he's done. John just nods to the Sgt standing guard and hurries over to the Detective Inspector and Ms Holmes as they are about to enter an empty conference room.

"So you're saying that the man signed that message as Hermes?"

"Hermes was considered the messenger of the Gods," Ms Holmes says, her tone of voice so matching Sherlock when he has to explain things to Lestrade that John has to do a double check to make sure it's not Sherlock. "So the killer considers himself a messenger."

"Hell of a message he's sending," John mutters. He hears her chuckle.

"What message would that be?"

The stare that John sees come from Ms Holmes says that Lestrade is being especially thick today. Even John notices that, but he has the manners not to say so.

Unlike a certain consulting detective.

"I think it would be a message of death, Detective Inspector," She drawls. "I mean it's quite obvious isn't it? I'm really not seeing this so called intelligence that Sherlock says that you possess if you're going to continue to asking idiotic questions like that."

And his mother apparently. The tone of voice she has nearly matched Sherlock's. It's uncanny.

Lestrade opens his mouth, then closes it. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he opens his mouth again to speak. The door opens to the conference room cutting him off. Sherlock walks in and starts to rattle off facts about the deceased, and the room he was found in.


Date: October 1st, 2010

Location: Scotland Yard

Time: Evening


"We have another consultant?"

Lestrade ignores the annoyance in Sgt Donovan's voice. "Yes. Ms Hadresham. She knows the dialect and said she would be willing to translate the rest of the messages once she is done with her lecture and book signing."

"Who's bringing her?"

"Sherlock."

"The Freak? Are you sure you want that? What if he hacks her off so much she decides not to help?"

I doubt that will happen.

"Stop the worrying, Sergeant and just simply help me organize everything here, Sherlock left it all in a state I can't make out."

He hears the Sgt grumble. For once he's glad he didn't fill Donovan in on everything about the woman.

Lestrade is still trying to wrap his head around the fact.

Sherlock has a mother.

Well it's obvious the man has a mother.. he had to be born somehow. It's just...

Something that takes some getting used to.

But that brief time he spent with her at the conference center, he could certainly see where Sherlock gets his attitude. Her is certainly sharp and blunt, but Sherlock's has a brutality to his words where his mother does not. Sherlock Holmes is his own unique persona, but Lestrade can clearly see where his persona had been influenced.

"So this whackjob considers himself a god?"

"Hermes. Messenger."

"Fantastic," Donovan mutters. "Just what we need. So this Hadresham knows the dialect? I suppose she also knows a bit about Mythology since she was scheduled to do a lecture there."

"She taught Celtic, Welsh, Greek, Roman, Norse Mythology at Oxford for twenty odd years, publishing the occasional book, before going into writing full time. She's considered one of the foremost experts on the matter," Lestrade rattles off what Sherlock's mother told him before going to lecture.

"Quite the calm witness," Donovan says casually. "Didn't even seem upset when she found the body."

"From the sounds of it, Mr Culpepper was not well liked, but she also doesn't seem like the type to let things rattle her much."

Like mother, like son.


Date: October 1st, 2010

Location: On the way to Scotland Yard

Time: Evening


Johnsneaks another peek at Sherlock's Mum as they all sit quietly in the cab. The two of them attended her lecture and stayed during her book signing, and this was the first time he got to witness a proper interaction between the two of them.

The ride had been quiet so far, Ms Hadresham, er Ms Holmes, erm..John wasn't sure what to properly call her, concentrated mainly on her mobile as did Sherlock.

"I am assuming Mycroft informed you of my presence, Sherlock," his mum speaks up suddenly.

"He did." Sherlock answers, not looking up from his mobile.

"And?" Ms Holmes glances at John and then turns to her son.

"I was going to stop by one of your lectures before you left."

"Really?"

Sherlock sighs one of his patented Must We Do This Now? sighs.

"Yes, really, Mummy."

John shakes his head slightly, finding it strange to hear Sherlock say the word Mummy. Anyone else he wouldn't find it strange, but this is.. this is Sherlock.

"Yes, well, apparently it has to take a murder for us to see each other. Since you didn't come to last years Christmas dinner."

"I had a case."

"You always have a case."

John catches the slight smile from Sherlock and John's throat closes up a little when Ms Holmes blue eyes meet his.

"Well, since my son hasn't bothered to do the proper introductions, you must be John Watson."

"I am, Mrs.. Ms Holmes..."

"Ms Holmes," she interrupts.

"No need to do introductions when it's quite obvious when both know\ who the other is."

"It's call a social normalcy, Sherlock," Ms Holmes drawls.

"Dull," he mutters.

John grins at the smile that appears on Ms Holmes, and then she pats her son's hand before turning her attention to him. "So, I'm told you are a doctor. And a former solider. Came back from Afghanistan last year correct?"

John swallows. "Ah, yes, that is correct."

"How are you adjusting? I imagine living in a warzone to here can be a bit difficult even after some time."

John chuckles. 'Well I sometimes I feel like I still am in one... just this one is a bit more quiet."

"Hmmm, I imagine so, going on these cases that my son likes to do, running after criminals, dodging bullets... pool explosions," she says, her tone sharpening at the last one, shooting a glance at her son.

"We had that conversation when you visited at the hospital," Sherlock says coolly.

John tries his best not smile. Sherlock is still Sherlock, even around his mother. Two individuals while similar in a lot of ways, also their own person.

"Yes, and I do believe I said that is the last time I want to see you in a hospital."

"John is good at making sure I don't need to go to one."

John shifts in his seat as he's met with another laser like gaze.


Date: October 1st, 2010

Location: Scotland Yard- Conference Room

Time: Evening


Lestrade emerges from the conference room with Donovan behind him when Caswell approaches.

"Sherlock, Doctor Watson and Ms Holmes are coming."

"Thank you."

"Ms Holmes?" Donovan asks sharply, coming around to face Lestrade. "I thought you said a Ms Hadresham was coming."

"Hadresham is her professional name, the surname she taught under and what she writes her books under. Holmes is her personal surname."

Donovan doesn't look pleased with that explanation, but Lestrade doesn't need his Sergeant to be pleased, he needs her to do her job without pissing off the consultants. She's damn good at her job, but her issues with Sherlock Holmes bring out the worst qualities in her.

"So the Freak has a mother does he? Not surprised she was so cold at the crime scene then. She was cold as he is when he's around a body. Guess he got his cold blood from somewhere. "

Lestrade winces at that bold statement, knowing it was heard clearly by Sherlock, Doctor Watson and the man's mother, not to mention the other officers nearby.

"Donovan, that's enough," he says sharply.

"Psychopaths come from somewhere, Detective Inspector. I'm just stating the facts."

"Rather inappropriately too," Ms Holmes says coldly, now the three of them just three feet away. Lestrade watches as Donovan's face pales, and she turns to face the three. Sherlock, the bloody man, just smirks and walks past them, going towards the conference room, John Watson following.

"Ms Holmes-"

"Donovan is it?" The older woman clarifies interrupting the Sergeant. "Good, now I have a proper name." Her cold blue eyes rake over the Sgt. She then looks over at Lestrade. It takes his willpower, plus his training not to take a step back.

"I'm more than willing to help you decipher these messages, Detective Inspector Lestrade, and help my son help you out with catching this murderer. But first may I say your people have an appalling lack of decorum and decency apparently, and do not know how to watch what they say, especially regarding those who are willing to help the Scotland Yard," she says in a crisp, cold voice that feels like a whip. "I have to say after the Yard spent many decades fixing their reputation, to have that reputation now dented by the rather crude and uncouth comments of someone who obviously suffers from some sort of inferiority complex. To have that type of attitude in an institution like this is rather appalling and shows how low the Scotland Yard can go. I have to say I am quite ashamed. Now excuse me, I have to go look over the evidence in order to help you people take a murderer off the streets."

She brushes past the two of them, Lestrade noticing Sally Donovan looking quite shell shocked, when Ms Holmes pauses and turns back around.

"Detective Inspector I will also like to add that my help will cease if she stays on this case. Your people's attitudes are quite appalling towards those who help, and your lack of control over them is quite obvious." She turns and heads towards the conference room.

Lestrade, with the ache in his head now expanding looks back at Sgt Donovan.

He now wishes for that time turner that Hermione Granger had. It would have been quite useful.


Location: Unknown

Time: Evening


He rocks in his seat, watching the telly in front of him. He needs to know, the desperation deep inside, to see and to know, if the scribes have any more information.

He can only see the soldiers going back and forth, and so far he has not seen the traitor. The Gods had been quite upset when they saw him, demanding his blood.

But he hadn't been able to track the traitor down. Hard to do so without a name.

HE HAS A NAME!

The man scowls at the screech from one of the Gods.

"He doesn't go by that name you moron!" He bellows, knowing he'll pay for the rudeness later. "He goes by a different one now, just let me concentrate!"

The voices quiet and the man concentrates on the telly, listening to the scribe detail the murder that took place earlier.

Murder.

Cleansing is what it was. He was an imposter, a blasphemer, an offender who desecrated the name of Zues.

What he is doing is not murder. Not when he is guided by the hands of the Gods.

Suddenly he sees the image he saw the other night. The same man passing behind the scribe, who was replaying an earlier scene, getting into a cab.

The traitor appeared again.

The traitor that the Gods want cleansed, his blood spilt.

He must find out what name this traitor goes by, so he can find him and avenge the Gods.