The Holmes Called A [Sherlaide III]

Cold Clues

"He isn't here, John! Sherlock is gone!"

Adelaide took yet another deep breath as the same round of questions was hurled her way by the Local Police. Mycroft had had her contact them to secure the scene and to start gathering evidence since he, Greg and John could only get there in about two hours. And she was learning very quickly why Sherlock got so frustrated with the Force. It was a lot of paperwork and procedures without enough critical thought.

Keep it together. You knew that being married to a consulting detective wouldn't be easy. Just do what you can so that you can have him back, safe and sound. But it was difficult to stay calm when she knew that Sherlock could be out of the city and moving farther by the second. In an unremarkable little gray car, and possibly severely injured from the looks of the crime scene.

She rubbed her forearms and chattered. It was late night by then and the car park was not by any means warm. It felt like she was in a refrigerator and she was only in a short dress. Cold. Too cold. She remarked to herself as she tried to warm up a bit. It helped a little to imagine that Sherlock was there with his arms around her, but it also made it worse knowing he wasn't and was in danger.

Time crawled by before she heard a vehicle enter the cement cage. She turned to see who it was and sighed with relief as she recognized the sedan. Without hesitation she power walked to it in time for John to pop out of the back, worry written on his features, "You alright, Adelaide?"

She nodded stiffly, "Yes, I wasn't hurt. I'm okay. Thank you so much for coming here to help, John." Greg and Mycroft emerged from the sedan. Adelaide realized that the latter had driven them rather than employ his usual chauffeur.

Mycroft scanned her for any external damage and deduced that she was extremely sore, especially from walking and standing in heels for so long, and very cold, "Adelaide, you need to warm up and rest."

"I'll be fine, Mycroft. I just want to find Sherlock before-"

"And we will. But he won't be happy if he finds out his wife turned into an ice cube trying to help," Mycroft stepped closer and whipped off his long overcoat, placing it on her shoulders, "Get in and sit. You've provided us with everything you can."

Adelaide exhaled and nodded. Greg got the front passenger door for her and she got in, visibly wincing as she sat down and relieved the pressure on her feet, "Don't worry. We'll sort this out, Adelaide."

"I know."

After they were satisfied with her condition they approached the scene, which had remarkably not been contaminated yet. Mycroft and Greg handled the officers while John started looking for clues.

Oh, Sherlock, what happened here? He sighed and shook his head. He could see evidence of a fight in and around the black Coupe. Bloody, given that he saw red spatter in a few places that made him grimace. On top of the driver's door, which had nearly been torn off its hinges in the confrontation, John found the most blood, with a tiny bit of brown curl, "Must have been an ambush and there was at least two attackers. They must have bashed him against the car headfirst..."

"It seems my brother has rubbed off on you. I must agree with your observations." Mycroft tsked as he and Greg walked over.

Greg shook his head at the scene, "Must've been some brawl."

"Yeah, there's blood in a few places. Whoever got Sherlock didn't take him easily. He took more than a few injuries from what I can tell." John added.

Mycroft skirted the small perimeter, eyes scrutinizing every centimetre as he searched for more clues. As he went he developed a mental picture of what had transpired. Sherlock knew he was being followed, intended to get into the car and use it against them without tipping them off that he heard them. A second person jumped him as he opened the door. He turned around and kicked him off, but then the other got there and helped push him against the door frame. Sherlock smashed the back of his head against the car a number of times as he struggled. Shoved them off and got clear before they caught him again, using his head injury to stun him before forcing him down to the asphalt. More struggling on the ground, Sherlock was losing blood but didn't back down...

Then how did they incapacitate him enough to abduct him?

"Oi, look at this." Greg piped up from two cars away. He was squatted down, looking at the ground under the back tire. John and Mycroft walked over and saw lots of crushed glass, with some shares dotted with tiny drops of tinted liquid.

"A syringe?" John dropped down to get a better look, "But no sedative or tranquilizer I've seen has that tinted look."

Mycroft bent down, examined the glass puzzle, and then gazed back at the scene as a whole. It hit him and he growled, "That was not a sedative, or similar substance. They did not put him to sleep."

"Then what did they shoot him up with?"

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