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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Sherlock sat on the sofa, in the front room and stared at the massive collage of paperwork and photos of the shipyards as well as a large diagram the he had hanging above the fireplace. His arms limp at his sides and his ever-present "thinking" frown on his thin face. He sat there for a good hour before his mobile rang and he waited until after the third ring to answer it, as it sat on the cushion beside him. "Yes, Watson." As she talked, he stared at the photos on the wall. The strings that lead from the individual photos to adjoining photos, linking the crime of the dock, together.
"Marcus and I are going to talk to the security guard, again. The video tape from the gas station across the street told a different story than the one he gave us." Watson walked down the pavement to where Marcus stood, next to his car, his hands in his pockets as he waited. "We've just seen Mister Harris and he's doing better, sitting up. Have you matched where the guns came from, yet?"
Still sitting on the sofa and staring at the collage above the fireplace, Sherlock was silent a moment.
Joan checked her phone to see if he had hung up or not. Finding she was still connected, she spoke his name. "Sherlock?"
At the mention of his name, he was brought back to where he sat and looked from the wall to his phone, beside him. "Yes. The guns found in the crates came from a small group of radicals from Honduras called, Don Muertos. Our elusive supplier has had many contacts with them but I am asking Everyone to use their resources to find what the total number shipped was and to keep an eye out for any more coming to that particular port in the next week. I have also had Everyone dig into city records to find out who this 'Lee Sawyer' is and track down a possible address for him. Also, I am going to be meeting with the Captain to reinterview the thug currently residing in lockup, for a possible name of his immediate boss." Sherlock had returned to looking up at the collage but felt the buzz of his call waiting and picked up his mobile to look at the name of the second caller. "The Captain is calling me. I will get in touch with you later, Watson. Bye." With a cheerful "bye" he clicked over to the second call. "Captain."
Gregson sat at his desk and shuffled through his paperwork he had spread out, on his desk. He sighed and scratched his forehead as Sherlock answered his call. "Your buddies at Interpol come up with anything on the name I gave you?" After spending the morning going over names and photos of known prostitutes, from years past, Gregson hit a dead end and decided to call in reinforcements through Sherlock's contacts, in London. He had given Sherlock the name of Suzette and only a small backstory of how Lee and Suzette came to meet. After finding out that Lee and Suzette each had a rap sheet a mile long, outside of the country, Gregson was true to his word to find Lee's daughter, in the hopes of finding Samantha and saving the incoming batch of sex slaves due in, in a few hours.
"As of yet, nothing but they have a few more names on their list that I gave to them so, I hope to hear something from them, soon. I have found out, on my own, that a Mister Lee Sawyer suffered a gunshot wound nine years ago but instead of going to hospital, a doctor was kidnapped from Sanai Hospital and returned three days later, unharmed. The doctor's staff and colleagues believed him to be the apparent victim of a gang-related kidnapping, as the car that both kidnapped him and brought him back was unmarked and had mirror-tinted windows. The car was later found abandonned and torched in an alley, not far from where the DSC gang prefers to hang out. The doctor refused to address where he had been held and was subsequently drummed out of his job as chief physician. This doctor's name happened to be, Parker Harris." Sherlock's eyes never left the photo of Lee that hung above his fireplace, as he spoke.
The captain was silent for a long time as he digested what he heard. "How do you know it was Lee that kidnapped him and then brought him back?"
Sherlock debated telling the captain the name of the people he asked for help and then decided against it, as it might scare the captain away from asking for his help, in similar situations. "I have been studying the file you handed Watson of Sawyer and spent last night going over every line of the man's fingerprints. His fingerprints were found on several large bills that were spent at a drug store on Harvey Street, not far from a motel where a man checked in with his 'ailing brother' and 'personal doctor'. The bills are long gone but the camera footage from the drug store's street cameras still remain. I also took the liberty of having a satelite capture done of the motel and have picked out three figures going inside the motel lobby, one of which had long blond hair."
Gregson listened and removed his mobile phone from his pocket and stared at the screen as he read the text. "I think we need to talk to Mister Harris, again. Something went on, in that motel room, more than just a simple patch up job."
~~~~~~~~
"Mister Greene, you stated that you only heard the shots and came running from the far end of the yard, correct?" Joan and Marcus walked with the man on his rounds of the dock. They walked along the dockside and made their way slowly back to the guard shed.
The guard rubbed the back of his neck as he thought back to his original statement. "Yea, I came around from over there," he kept walking but turned to point where the van had been, "and they were right there, firing at each other and that" he turned again to the empty contained, now filled with holes and riccochet marks, "there." He pointed to the bottom faded red container, off Marcus's left shoulder as the detective walked to Greene's left and Joan to his right.
Marcus stopped as he passed the container. "Where would you say you were, on the other side of the containers?" He pointed to the container but motioned for the gateside of the lot.
Greene stopped walking and sighed deeply. "A few rows down, I guess." He pointed to the fourth row of containers over from the one that was shot.
Marcus nodded as he looked at the rows in front of him. "Why didn't you come down any of the rows leading up to the end, to check? Why run all the way around, when you heard the shots?" As a detective, he hadn't wanted civilians in harm's way but he had noticed the guard was armed with both an issued .9mm as well as a radio and mobile phone.
"You didn't hear how loud those shots were. It was like being in the middle of a firework show!" The guard became a angry at his lack of aid. He had turned to look at Marcus as the detective asked the question. "Yea, I was scared and yea, I coulda come down any of the rows but, man, it was loud." He took a few breaths and continued walking to the guard shed. "I also left my weapon in the shed."
As Joan walked along side them, she glanced back at the container and then turned to gage just how far from the scene the shed was. "The police gathered up the Harrises belongings but didn't find a green photobook, anywhere. Maybe one of the other guards found it? It belonged to the girl that was kidnapped."
Another sigh from the guard as they reached the shed and he removed his ring of keys from his pocket to unlock the door. "Since that 'Ernie' guy was a no-show, I've been working doubles. I'm too tired to see any book. There's only one other guard and he didn't show, today, either. But, you're welcomed to look." He opened the door and waved them inside, first.
Joan stepped in behind Marcus and briefly looked around the cluttered room before turning and looking out the window that faced the crime scene. She pointed to the yellow police tape that quardened off the scene and asked the guard to describe what he saw, from where she stood. "How far is it from here to the tape?"
"About a quarter mile." Another heavy sigh from the tired guard as he stepped in and stood next to her. "I came around the end of the rows, came in, looked up and saw bright lights and a bunch of guys swarming around the container. I called police and tried to stay outta sight until the police came."
Marcus nodded. "So, you didn't even try to help Mister Harris or his daughter?"
Walter Greene turned around and stared at the detective, almost in rage. "I'm sorry that happened to them. It's usually a quiet shift. Rarely anything other than catchin a few bums, crawlin over the gate or starting fires in the parking lot, happens. That was the first time in 15 years I have ever needed to use that gun. I'll be 61 in two months. I can't afford to get myself worked up into a state, before I retire."
As the guard turned back around to look out the window, Marcus nodded at the explanation and looked about himself. "Is this your weapon?" He noted the locked piece sitting atop a stack of papers, and pointed to it.
Turning back, the guard looked to where Marcus pointed. "Yea." The shed was barely big enough to hold three people on its own, let alone filled with a file cabinet, three monitors for the grounds' cameras and an old office chair. Two of the four walls that faced the windows were lined with a narrow, long desk that was lined with paperworks and folders.
Another nod as Marcus looked more closely at the stack of papers with the weapon on top. "You don't lock your weapon up?"
"You see a safe around here? There's barely room for one person, let alone two AND a safe. Besides, the windows are thick plastic and the door is locked." Walter was becoming annoyed with their questions and just wanted the day to be overwith so that he could go home to sleep.
Marcus spotted a small corner to a bright green folder and lifted the paperwork to see what it was. "Joan." Pulling out the book and holding it up for her to see, they both looked at the flustered guard with more questions. "This belongs to the girl that was kidnapped. How'd you end up with it?"
Walter stared at the book in Marcus' hand with curiosity. "Never saw it before."
"Your weapon was laying right on top of it and you've never seen this book before?" Marcus quirked an eyebrow.
Shaking his head, Walter shrugged. "I ain't paid to watch things in the guard shed. I get paid to watch things out there." Waving a hand to the windows, he eyed the book with wonder. He hadn't seen it, nor had he remembered it beng there when he laid his weapon down, at the start of his shift but then, it was barely a corner that stuck out for Marcus to find.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Gregson stood beside Mister Harris' bed and waited for the man to adjust his position on the bed, to a more comfortable position, before he asked his questions. "Mister Harris, eight years ago, you were abducted by two men, to treat a gunshot wound. Do you remember that day?" He eyed the man and his bandages and bruises and felt the smallest bit of pain for the man as Mister Harris groaned with each movement.
Parker Harris paled at the mention of the kidnapping. He shook his head nervously. "No, can't say that I do. Why?"
Sherlock stood at the end of the bed and watched with the same "thinking frown" he always had when piecing together a case.
The captain nodded. "I think you do and it might be best advised to come clean. You might be able to help find your daughter, before something happens to her."
Parker sighed and shook his head in defeat. "I went to work that afternoon as a split after a double shift. I was tired and there was this car stopped in the middle of the lane, just before the entrance. He was just sitting there, like he was waiting for someone. I started to walk behind it and the car backed up. The next thing I know, the window lowered and a gun was pointed at me. He told me to get in." He looked from one man to the other and wondered what he was supposed to say next.
Gregson removed a photo from his inside jacket pocket and showed it to Parker. "Is this the man?"
Parker shifted and cleared his throat, looking around the room, nervously. "Look, I don't want any trouble. I just want my daughter back." He swallowed as he met eyes again with the captain.
Sherlock's brow furrowed. "You're afraid of a man you haven't seen for eight years. That gives the possibility that he holds something over your head. This man is also looking for his own daughter, lost somewhere in the mix. In fact, it wasn't very long after you were returned from aiding the man in the photo, that you quit from your job as physician and started to have mysterious things happen to you and your family. After your wife died, you decided to disappear from view, with your daughter, and you would have been successful had it not been for the shipment gone wrong on the docks. Tell us, what does Lee Sawyer hold over your head?"
Parker shook his head more sternly. "I think I need to see a lawyer, about now." Clamming up with that statement, he looked away from them and refused to say anything more.
"Did he threaten you, in some way?" Captain Gregson leant forward and asked in a low voice.
Parker shook his head. "I can't break confidetiality. Please go."
Gregson leant in closer, his hands on the rail. "Not even to save your daughter?"
Swallowing and closing his eyes, Parker didn't answer.
Sherlock followed the captain out of the room and down the hallway, pausing briefly as the captain's mobile buzzed, in his pocket, and Gregson took it out to check the message.
Looking up from his mobile, Gregson took a breath. "Bell says they found the photo book, in the guard shack, at the docks. They're heading back to the precinct now." They started walking again and were almost to the lift when his mobile buzzed again. This time, he stared at the screen until Sherlock cleared his throat to get his attention. Looking up and stepping into the car, Gregson went back to staring at his mobile screen. "How good are you with teenagers?"
Sherlock gave him a raisd brow look but shrugged to answer the question. "The homeless teenager has been found, then? You've been staring at your mobile since we've exited Mister Harris' room. Is it my surmise to say that the elusive Mister Sawyer has contacted you with her whereabouts?" He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet.
"The driver dropped her off at a diner downtown. Asks if we can pick her up, soon." Gregson clicked off the screen and placed his mobile back into his pocket.

Continued
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Cancelled Negatives