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Cancelled Negatives	By : SisterWine Category: 1 through F > Elementary Views: 814 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Elementary. Creator is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Series creator is Robert Doherty. My own characters include Lee Sawyer, Ramsey Gaither, Ernie, Marissa, Parker Harris and Samantha. Purely Fiction, and not for profit.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 1
- 2
- 3
The African-American security guard, Walter Greene, sat across the conference room table from Joan, Gregson and Detective Bell while Sherlock sat at the end of the table, turned away from facing he man, his left elbow on the table. A man of sixty with thin-rimmed glasses and short, curly black hair sighed and contained a yawn as he had been up all night, longer than he wanted to be. His shift had been over for three hours, not to mention he had gone in early for some much needed overtime and now, he sat across from an inquistive captain and three underlings. "I already told you what I saw. What else is there?"
"Where were you, in proximity, to the heist on the docks, this morning?" The captain eyed the man, watching his expressions and movements but remained casual.
The guard sat back and sighed loudly. "I told the officer that questioned me when they got there, I was on my rounds, checking the gate at the front. I came back around, from the north side of the dock and I heard a loud noise, like uh... uh... a bang. I came around the side of the far end of the yard when I saw a group of guys firing guns at an empty container. I got to the shack and called police, and when I came out, I saw a black SUV and a moving truck speeding away." The man blinked and tiredly looked up at the captain. He sat forward and reached for his styrofoam cup of coffee they have offered him for his trouble of coming down the to station.
Joan rest her arms on the table and folded her hands. "Mister Harris, the homeless man, says you let him and his daughter sleep in the empty containers, sometimes."
"Yea. But, they have to be out before workers get there at 6AM. I ain't supposed to do that but, I can't let them freeze to death." Walter sipped at his warm coffee.
Sherlock remained silent and turned away from the man but he turned his head to face the guard as he recounted the night's events. In his head, he had retraced what the man had said and then rechecked his own mental notes of the scene.
Marcus shifted and held up a piece of paper with a sketch layout of the dockyard. "Mister Greene, you said you were at the guard shack when the vehicles pulled away but in your statement, you told officers that you witnessed the end of the gun fight before they took off. Could you tell who was shooting at whom? Did they say anything?" Marcus looked from the back of the paper to Walter, indicating where the individuals were standing, according to his notes.
The guard shook his head.
"They were already firing on the container where Mister Harris and his daughter were sleeping, when you got there. Correct?" The captain added.
"Yea."
Gregson shifted. "And you don't know how four men were shot and killed by the rest of the gang, even though, they left in the only two vehicles that miraculously made inside the gates and on to the dock side, and then used a crane that was mistakenly left out, to get their merchandise? Have I got that right?" His expression hardened as the guard blinked at him, anger causing his body to tense.
Walter breathed a moment to calm himself. "I told you. I don't know what happened. The kid and I went up to check the front gate. I made sure it was locked. He was driving the car and I decided to walk." He pause and sat back to pat his protuding belly. "My wife says I could lose a few pounds, keeping up with the grandkids is becoming too hard to do." Leaning forward again, he replaced his hand on the cup, letting the fading warmth warm his hands.
"You mean, another guard was on duty with you?" Gregson questioned.
Taking a breath and feeling like he was talking to a brick wall, Walter nodded. "Yea, he's a young kid, maybe mid-thirties. He took the car down to the south end."
Gregson leaned in a little more with interest. "We looked at the schedule. You were the only guard on shift. The other guard, a woman in her late forties, quit the night before last. What was the other guard's name that worked with you, last night?"
Walter rubbed a hand over his face and fought the drowsiness of sleep off as he tried to think of what the man told him. "I don't know. Jerry... Terry.... Ernie! That's it. Ernie. Said he just started and was a transfer for Northwest and that's why he wasn't on the schedule."
"And he took the car...?"
"Yes." Walter replied, exasperated.
"Well, there is some truth to that story. We did find the car parked at the south gate but no sign of a second guard. And, the south and west gates were both unlocked." Caulking his head to the side, Gregson studied the confusion on the man's face as the guard tried to make sense of it.
Sherlock shifted and turned in his seat to face the table. "I took the liberty of checking the car and the crane that was used in the theft; both completely clean of fingerprints, hair samples and anything else related to somebody else in the car with you, last night. I have also noticed that sometime prior to the theft and the men arriving, the security cameras that faced the dock side and those two gates, in particular, went black at exactly the same time you say you checked the front gate. That time was," he reached for the file folder Joan had placed on the table in front of her and had sat neglected during the interview, "12:15AM. The crane engine was still cooling when Detective Bell and I got there at 4:30, which means, the engine had been used and turned off no sooner than an hour and a half prior to you calling the police. Now, that gives you enough time to open the west gate, drive to the south gate, park the car and or open that gate as well, and then use the golf cart I found hidden under a tarp beside the west gate, to transport you from the south gate back to the west gate, close it after you let the thieves in, and then walk around to the north side of the yard where you can observe the theft gone wrong." He sighed as his words had been a lot to say in his normal quick pace but as he stared back at the astonished guard, he wasn't sure he had the complete details of what he had surmised.
Walter shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know what you guys are pulling but I didn't drive no car or a golf cart. That thing doesn't even run and when it does, it putters along at a zooming speed of two miles an hour. I'm telling you, there was another guard there with me. Dark hair, beard, looked like he just came out of his mother's basement." He turned to look at Sherlock and tried not to let the anger into his voice but wasn't making it so well. "If he wasn't anywhere in that yard, he musta been one of them. I've been on that dock for fifteen years, why would I pull something like that now?"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the man. A considerable frown on his face as he tried to decipher the man's explanation.
Raising a hand to rub his forhead, hoping his headache would go away, Gregson sighed again and excused the man.
~~~~~~~~~~
Gregson stood against the wall of the Interrogation Room while Joan and Detective Bell sat in the chairs across from the injured thief. Sherlock had chosen to watch from the adjacent wall, next to the two-way mirror. "Why don't you tell us how you got that bullet wound while stealing crates full of illegal drugs and guns on the dock. Boss decide ten people was too much to split the profits with?" He was less than thrilled to be talking to someone who managed to get shot by his own friends while breaking the law. Gregson did, however, want to hear the man out and hopefully get to the bottom of the case rather quickly.
"I don't got anything to say to you." The New York born Hispanic man sat slumped in his chair. A young man of about early twenties and already streetwise but had been lucky enough to avoid the police's hospitality.
Joan flipped through the papers in front of her. She looked up at him when she didn't find any priors for him. "So far, you have a clean record. But, it's only a matter of time before you get caught for something and end up right back here. These people you're working for are dangerous. Someone in your group killed four of your friends and then made off with the rest of the shipment. Sitting there, staying silent about these dangerous people and the weapons and drugs that are about to hit the streets, won't keep you out of jail. But, helping us to put away this group might get you some leniency."
The man shook his head and scoffed at the idea of it being a double-cross. "I don't know, man. I was just hired to get the stuff outta the thing and load it into a truck." Nursing the bandaged wound on his upper right arm, Joe Domingues was technically done talking to the cops but wanted to see if a deal could be reached for his co-operation.
"Who hired you? Give me a name." Gregson stared at the disshelved man.
Shaking his head and reclining back in his chair, Joe shook his head again. "I don't know the dude's name. All I know is that me and a few guys were hired to do a job on a dock. He said his boss was some big shot from Detroit. That's all I know, man!"
Bell watched the man shift and add a nervous habit of bouncing his left leg, mostly to distract him from the pain in his arm. "Okay. Let's start at the beginning. Where'd the shipment come from?"
"Aw, man." Joe groaned under his breath. "Look, I don't know. Some dude shows up, they go into the office and chat and play nicey nice for awhile, then the dude leaves. Everything else is beyond my pay grade, ya know?" He shifted and groaned again.
Bell opened his pad and took out his pen from between the pages. "Describe him."
"Long black coat, dark suit, long blond hair and a fedora. He shows up in a black town car with a driver, like he's a miracle worker or something. I think the dude said his name is 'Lee' or something. And frankly, he scares me more than you do." Joe's nervous habit was getting worse, as if he were coming off drugs, only no detoxing.
Gregson, who had been staring at the floor out of boredom but listening to the conversation, looked up at the man in shock. "What did you say?"
Shrugging and shifting in his chair, the man eyed the captain. "I said I ain't scared of you."
"The name. What's his name?" Gregson repeated.
"Just some guy named 'Lee'."
The captain wet his dry lips with his barely moist tongue, swallowed nervously and without another word, left the room and made his way back to his office to sort through paperwork and files in his desk's top drawer. A minute later there was a knock on his open office door and Marcus stepped in with Joan and Sherlock behind him. Without looking up and still sorting through his open files, he stopped when he came to the last file and pulled it out from under the stack of five or six. He sat down in his chair and held the file in his hands. Sighing, breathing and swallowing the lump in his throat, Gregson finally tossed the file onto his desk and looked up at the three that stood before him. "About ten or so years ago, I was working undercover on a case of prostitution. I was working for a rival pimp moving his girls into another pimp's territory. The pimp I was working under was well-armed thanks to a high-grade supplier. One night, there was a party for the crew, celebrating the rival's demise and acquisition of his girls. Nice, posh party in a fancy hotel suite. Party gets underway and I'm guarding the door. I have almost what I'm looking for to shut the operation down. I have a chance to send it over the top by catching them receiving a shipment of drugs, the next week. There's a knock on the door and this guy's standing there like... a VIP... Pimp invites him in and the party continues." He paused and looked away to take a breath. When he looked back, he swallowed again before continuing. "Come to find out this guy in a long black coat and expensive suit was the supplier." Gregson tapped the folder on his desk. "Lee Sawyer. He is a very cool cat under pressure and smart, too." Gregson sat back. "When it came time for the bust, Sawyer had dropped out of sight, leaving the pimp with two hundred pounds of heroin headed to the Canadian border."
Marcus sat down in the chair across from the captain. "He set up his own customer?"
"Not quite. In a weird twist of fate, the pimp was about to get rid of Sawyer and take the profits for himself. Sawyer got wise to the plan and decided to terminate the business partnership himself but not before his car was riddled full of holes as a bon voyage gift from the pimp. Since then, he's been thought to be dead. Until now." Gregson flipped the cover open and turned it around to face them, giving them time to look over the man's arrest record.
Sherlock stood there with his ever-present thinking frown and read over Bell's shoulder. "You think he was the one who sabataged the theft, last night?"
"Know but can't prove. So far, we're waiting on the ballistics to get back from the four dead thugs in the container. Sawyer rarely goes to the exchanges. If he is still alive, this would be his M.O." Gregson blinked and stared down at the upside down photo of the man he once knew.
Again, Sherlock was silent. He pieced together each of the stories, in his head and weighed them carefully. He knew his next trip was to the Medical Examiner's office to find out more on the men killed. Turning and stepping out of the office, he made his way out of the precinct and over to the next stop, without a word to anyone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By mid afternoon, Ramsey was getting anxious. His customer would be furious to recieve only half a shipment, unless his supplier could make up the difference. But the supplier hadn't arrived yet. The phone call to Marissa had been more stressful than he thought as he was feeling the pressure to get paid so that he could pay back Lee but he missed the step of telling the man he needed extra. Clearing his throat and sitting down in his chair, in his office, he promptly stood back up when a familiar town car pulled into the warehouse. "Lee!" With arms open and a smile on his face, he quickly made his way over to the man in black as he stepped out of the backseat as his driver opened the door. Throwing his arms around the man in an embrace, he quickly stepped back and threw his arm around Lee's shoulders, leading him back to his office. "Listen, man, I love your work and I'm happy to pay you but, I need a little more product for my customer." Ramsey released the man's shoulders and walked back around to his chair, behind his desk.
The supplier stopped in front of the desk, removing the black fedora he wore, holding it in his hands and stared at the man, unamused at the request. He spoke in a warm, casual tone, not implying at all that he was upset. "I delivered the full order. Now you want more? You aren't my only customer." A movement caught his eye and he turned his head to the right to find a terrified girl, sitting in a metal chiar with green padding, staring at him. Her wrists and mouth had been duct taped but she was able to watch the two converse. He turned back to Ramsey and found the man searching his desk for the order. "Is this 'bring a kid to work' day?"
"The brat saw the operation. Old man she was with was full of holes and they didn't want to kill a kid." Ramsey stopped and looked back up at him. "I tell you what, get me the rest of the order and you can have the brat for whatever you want. Huh?"
Again, Lee was unamused at the offer but couldn't resist writing his own price for the extra amount. "I'll have them for you in a few days. Best I can do." Turning and replacing his hat on his head, he walked back to the car but was stopped as Ramsey chased after him.
"Wait! Wait! Look, I know this is a bind but I'm really needing them by tonight. This customer is my biggest one and she pays really well." Ramsey caught up with him and stopped him before he climbed into the backseat. "Alright, I'll let you have my cut too... and, anything else you might find.... desirable." Licking his lips and smiling, he hoped the cold stare he received was an indication of favour towards his offer.
Lee narrowed his eyes at the shorter man but the deal was too good to pass up. He and Ramsey had been intimate before and he liked how nonpersonal the dealer had taken the affair. "What time?"
"Nine thirty."
"I'll text you an address. Be there at five. Bring the girl. If I like what I see, I'll have the extra waiting in a van." Leaning in closer as if to kiss the man, he stopped. "Don't be late." Without another word, Lee climbed back into the backseat and let his driver shut the door before making his way around to the driver's side and climbing in.
Continued.
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Cancelled Negatives