Dark Star: Chapter 8
Jun. 15th, 2010 12:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Title: Dark Star
Chapter Title: Chapter 8
Challenge/Fest: CaseStory Big Bang
Rating: T
Dedication: Thanks to my wonderful artists, to everyone who's heard me rattle on about this, and to my brother for beta-ing.
Fandoms: Torchwood and Sherlock (BBC)
Summary: When Torchwood encounters an everyday case with far from everyday suspects, they need help they can trust. Fortunately, Ianto had an extraordinary flat mate when he was at university.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, OCs. Jack/Ianto, mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Gwen/Owen
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Gwen finished sticking her print-outs to the wall just as Ianto arrived with the drinks, and accepted her coffee with a flash of a smile, clutching it to her chest whilst she waited for them all to settle down again. Once they had she cleared her throat and set the mug down, glancing between Jack and Sherlock as she started. “So, the victim is a barkeeper who runs an establishment for aliens. Real aliens, not just legal aliens. Alien aliens. And he was an alien.”
Jack folded his arms and sighed, so she hurried on, “He was found at half past eight this morning, and Owen estimates that he was killed between half past three and four o'clock. Killed in the bar by blunt force trauma to the head, using a glass bottle. He was struck with some force – it shattered the bottle.
“The office was turned over, but all the other rooms seem to have been left untouched,” she finished. “I think Detective Holmes has more details about that...”
Owen held his hand up before Sherlock could start, although he had shown no inclination to do so. “What I want to know is why Jack was there in the first place. You just happened to go around the day he died?”
“I had a Weevil call not far from the place and decided to call in and see if he was up,” Jack defended himself. “I hadn't seen him in a while.”
“Yeah, but everyone knows you don't sleep, and that you're a bit of a, how shall we put this... control freak.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, mirroring Jack's pose almost exactly. “You like to think you run this city. Did he get above his position? And without a will, I bet you can claim the property and put who you want in charge.”
“Owen...” Jack growled.
Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, drawing all their attention. “It wasn't Jack. He would have woken Ianto, and we'd know about that.”
There was silence around the table whilst Ianto dropped his gaze to the table. Eventually he muttered, “Sherlock, you owe me a drink,” and Gwen's nervous laugh broke the tension.
Owen glared at Sherlock. “What do you mean he would have woken Ianto?”
“Ianto's a very light sleeper,” he explained simply, “and he needs his sleep. If he'd had fewer than six hours we'd know about it, therefore he must have got to bed at two for Jack to be up in time to catch the Weevil and get to the pub to discover the body. Of course that's easily verifiable, so why would he lie about it, so let's assume that that's true. If he was killed between three and four then Jack would have woken Ianto leaving, and we'd know about it. Therefore, Jack can't have killed him.”
“But why would Jack wake Ianto?” Gwen asked, frowning between them.
“Jack stayed at mine last night,” Ianto admitted quietly.
“But... why would Jack stay with you when he lives...” she trailed off and her eyes widened. “Oh...”
“Anyway.” Sherlock rested his fingers together again. “Nice to know what I'm working with, I suppose. So, not Jack. Not Ianto either. What do you want to know Ianto?”
“Haven't you grown up yet?”
He opened one eye and glared at him. “I meant a relevant question. I don't have time for people's feelings.”
He sighed and shifted his grip on his coffee cup. “You said that only one glass was drunk from. But there was residue in both glasses. Who had the drink, and why?”
“It's expensive.” Ainii studied the label through a magnifying glass under Jack's careful eye and Sherlock's apparently bored consideration. “And strong; nearly 30% and best for mixing. It tastes excellent on its own, though. If he was drinking this he was showing off.”
“Who said he was drinking it?” Jack asked pointedly. “He was smashed over the head with it.”
“What a waste.” She straightened up and set the label down. “I would kill for a bottle of that, but not by destroying it.”
He folded his arms and glared at her. “So how easy is it to get hold of?”
“Twenty bottles came in on the last shipment, officially. Five of them were sold in a batch for the midwinter festival. Ten were bought very publicly and with a lot of flash. Five less so.” She tucked her hands into the front pocket of her gaudy pinafore dress. “I can tell you who bought the ten easily, and when they were drunk for most of them. The other five it'll be harder, but I know two already.”
“I don't need to know where the empties are,” Jack pointed out. “Call around, tell them you're wanting to do an installation art with the glass or something, ask if they have an empty bottle.”
“It's a shame,” she said as he turned away. “He was thinking of moving on.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, he was tired of the pub,” she sighed and leaned over the label again. “The constant arguments, Yunika was on the warpath again, wanted the pub doing her way. I think he was ready to let someone else do the arguing.”
He frowned at her casual tone. “Any idea who?”
“Not a clue.” She smiled at him softly and shook her head. “Sorry, Jack. It might be in the will, though.”
He looked at her for a moment longer, confused, then shrugged and pushed the door open. “Maybe. Thanks Ainii, I'll have a look.”
Ainii had grumbled at being kept at the Hub after she'd come in to help them, especially when the three of them were locked into their rooms to keep them from talking to each other. Tosh had the CCTV footage of their corridor up on one screen and the call-out records from the night before up on another, and she removed her glasses to rub at her eyes. “Jack was telling the truth about the call-out. Weevil sighting reported at eight this morning by a woman walking her kids to school. The system picked up on the report and sent it to Jack's wriststrap. He filed it as not relevant fifteen minutes later and didn't get to file a full report because he stopped off at the Dark Star.” She collected a map from the printer and passed it over to Owen. “And it was nearly on route. Just two streets across.”
He accepted the print-out from her and scowled at it. “So he picked up a Weevil on his way to report the death. Are we really going on what the London ponce says about him and Ianto? He wouldn't trust Ianto as far as he could throw him, let alone sleep with him.”
She sucked on the leg of her glasses and shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe he's just picked upon something really obvious we've not seen. Or maybe Ianto's in on it as well and brought the detective in to help him and Jack cover it up. I can't believe the second one.”
“Can't you?”
“No,” she said firmly. “It's not them. And it's too involved. Why get in a private detective at all if they want to cover it up? We'd never have figured it out ourselves, especially if Jack were trying to stop us.”
He shook his head and turned back to his computer. “Maybe you're right, but he's too involved with all of this. Something's going on.”
She hummed a non-committal noise and came over to stand behind him. “What have you got running?”
“Oh, sample analysis from the pub.” He brought up the full scan summary and settled back, folding his arms. “Powder that the detective found in the office and the crystals alongside it. The drink in the glasses, bloodwork on the victim and the liquid on the floor. Did you hear what the fish-woman said about it?”
“Sounds like very exclusive champagne.” She leaned closer to look at the progress bars on the archive scan and sighed. “This is going to be a long night. I'm about ready for dinner. How about you?”
“Sure.” He unfolded his arms and sighed. “I guess we'd better feed the guests as well.”
Tosh smiled brightly and reached for her mouse again. “I'll order in. Curry?”
Next chapter
Chapter Title: Chapter 8
Challenge/Fest: CaseStory Big Bang
Rating: T
Dedication: Thanks to my wonderful artists, to everyone who's heard me rattle on about this, and to my brother for beta-ing.
Fandoms: Torchwood and Sherlock (BBC)
Summary: When Torchwood encounters an everyday case with far from everyday suspects, they need help they can trust. Fortunately, Ianto had an extraordinary flat mate when he was at university.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, OCs. Jack/Ianto, mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Gwen/Owen
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Gwen finished sticking her print-outs to the wall just as Ianto arrived with the drinks, and accepted her coffee with a flash of a smile, clutching it to her chest whilst she waited for them all to settle down again. Once they had she cleared her throat and set the mug down, glancing between Jack and Sherlock as she started. “So, the victim is a barkeeper who runs an establishment for aliens. Real aliens, not just legal aliens. Alien aliens. And he was an alien.”
Jack folded his arms and sighed, so she hurried on, “He was found at half past eight this morning, and Owen estimates that he was killed between half past three and four o'clock. Killed in the bar by blunt force trauma to the head, using a glass bottle. He was struck with some force – it shattered the bottle.
“The office was turned over, but all the other rooms seem to have been left untouched,” she finished. “I think Detective Holmes has more details about that...”
Owen held his hand up before Sherlock could start, although he had shown no inclination to do so. “What I want to know is why Jack was there in the first place. You just happened to go around the day he died?”
“I had a Weevil call not far from the place and decided to call in and see if he was up,” Jack defended himself. “I hadn't seen him in a while.”
“Yeah, but everyone knows you don't sleep, and that you're a bit of a, how shall we put this... control freak.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, mirroring Jack's pose almost exactly. “You like to think you run this city. Did he get above his position? And without a will, I bet you can claim the property and put who you want in charge.”
“Owen...” Jack growled.
Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, drawing all their attention. “It wasn't Jack. He would have woken Ianto, and we'd know about that.”
There was silence around the table whilst Ianto dropped his gaze to the table. Eventually he muttered, “Sherlock, you owe me a drink,” and Gwen's nervous laugh broke the tension.
Owen glared at Sherlock. “What do you mean he would have woken Ianto?”
“Ianto's a very light sleeper,” he explained simply, “and he needs his sleep. If he'd had fewer than six hours we'd know about it, therefore he must have got to bed at two for Jack to be up in time to catch the Weevil and get to the pub to discover the body. Of course that's easily verifiable, so why would he lie about it, so let's assume that that's true. If he was killed between three and four then Jack would have woken Ianto leaving, and we'd know about it. Therefore, Jack can't have killed him.”
“But why would Jack wake Ianto?” Gwen asked, frowning between them.
“Jack stayed at mine last night,” Ianto admitted quietly.
“But... why would Jack stay with you when he lives...” she trailed off and her eyes widened. “Oh...”
“Anyway.” Sherlock rested his fingers together again. “Nice to know what I'm working with, I suppose. So, not Jack. Not Ianto either. What do you want to know Ianto?”
“Haven't you grown up yet?”
He opened one eye and glared at him. “I meant a relevant question. I don't have time for people's feelings.”
He sighed and shifted his grip on his coffee cup. “You said that only one glass was drunk from. But there was residue in both glasses. Who had the drink, and why?”
“It's expensive.” Ainii studied the label through a magnifying glass under Jack's careful eye and Sherlock's apparently bored consideration. “And strong; nearly 30% and best for mixing. It tastes excellent on its own, though. If he was drinking this he was showing off.”
“Who said he was drinking it?” Jack asked pointedly. “He was smashed over the head with it.”
“What a waste.” She straightened up and set the label down. “I would kill for a bottle of that, but not by destroying it.”
He folded his arms and glared at her. “So how easy is it to get hold of?”
“Twenty bottles came in on the last shipment, officially. Five of them were sold in a batch for the midwinter festival. Ten were bought very publicly and with a lot of flash. Five less so.” She tucked her hands into the front pocket of her gaudy pinafore dress. “I can tell you who bought the ten easily, and when they were drunk for most of them. The other five it'll be harder, but I know two already.”
“I don't need to know where the empties are,” Jack pointed out. “Call around, tell them you're wanting to do an installation art with the glass or something, ask if they have an empty bottle.”
“It's a shame,” she said as he turned away. “He was thinking of moving on.”
“How do you mean?”
“Oh, he was tired of the pub,” she sighed and leaned over the label again. “The constant arguments, Yunika was on the warpath again, wanted the pub doing her way. I think he was ready to let someone else do the arguing.”
He frowned at her casual tone. “Any idea who?”
“Not a clue.” She smiled at him softly and shook her head. “Sorry, Jack. It might be in the will, though.”
He looked at her for a moment longer, confused, then shrugged and pushed the door open. “Maybe. Thanks Ainii, I'll have a look.”
Ainii had grumbled at being kept at the Hub after she'd come in to help them, especially when the three of them were locked into their rooms to keep them from talking to each other. Tosh had the CCTV footage of their corridor up on one screen and the call-out records from the night before up on another, and she removed her glasses to rub at her eyes. “Jack was telling the truth about the call-out. Weevil sighting reported at eight this morning by a woman walking her kids to school. The system picked up on the report and sent it to Jack's wriststrap. He filed it as not relevant fifteen minutes later and didn't get to file a full report because he stopped off at the Dark Star.” She collected a map from the printer and passed it over to Owen. “And it was nearly on route. Just two streets across.”
He accepted the print-out from her and scowled at it. “So he picked up a Weevil on his way to report the death. Are we really going on what the London ponce says about him and Ianto? He wouldn't trust Ianto as far as he could throw him, let alone sleep with him.”
She sucked on the leg of her glasses and shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe he's just picked upon something really obvious we've not seen. Or maybe Ianto's in on it as well and brought the detective in to help him and Jack cover it up. I can't believe the second one.”
“Can't you?”
“No,” she said firmly. “It's not them. And it's too involved. Why get in a private detective at all if they want to cover it up? We'd never have figured it out ourselves, especially if Jack were trying to stop us.”
He shook his head and turned back to his computer. “Maybe you're right, but he's too involved with all of this. Something's going on.”
She hummed a non-committal noise and came over to stand behind him. “What have you got running?”
“Oh, sample analysis from the pub.” He brought up the full scan summary and settled back, folding his arms. “Powder that the detective found in the office and the crystals alongside it. The drink in the glasses, bloodwork on the victim and the liquid on the floor. Did you hear what the fish-woman said about it?”
“Sounds like very exclusive champagne.” She leaned closer to look at the progress bars on the archive scan and sighed. “This is going to be a long night. I'm about ready for dinner. How about you?”
“Sure.” He unfolded his arms and sighed. “I guess we'd better feed the guests as well.”
Tosh smiled brightly and reached for her mouse again. “I'll order in. Curry?”
Next chapter
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Date: 2011-06-15 07:05 pm (UTC)