No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic

Of Trials

The courtroom was quiet; the sound of shuffling papers and individuals clearing their throats in anticipation the only noises to be heard as Celestia entered the room. The media had not been allowed in, but they waited outside anxiously like vultures ready to pick the bones of a dead creature. The story itself had gotten out, but Celeste's anonymous status thankfully held true.

She sat down quickly between John and Sherlock, relieved to be away from the prying eyes and flashing cameras. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing over at Sherlock and then staring at her feet. For some reason she had felt obliged to wear a v-neck shirt that revealed her neck. Her hair had been pulled back and nothing was blocking anyone's view of why she was here.

The case itself was well presented, Celestia had made sure of that, and even though she shuddered at the sight of James she felt confident in their argument after it was all said and done. Questions were asked, evidence was presented, arguments were made, and they all pointed to the crystal clear truth. But still, something nagged at Sherlock's mind. James seemed all too familiar in this setting. Even when the connection between him and Clara Fairworth was made, he made no argument and readily agreed. He wasn't overly happy, or upset, or even dismal. He had the same aura of disinterest that had presented itself the previous day. He gave blunt replies in answer to inquires of his intentions, shrugging his shoulders and scraping by with a few words of meaninglessness. The detective fervently mulled over the case in his head, looking for loopholes or some means of escape, finally deeming himself paranoid.

The court was dismissed for recess, allowing the jury time to come up with a final answer. Celestia smiled reassuringly at John, quite happy that this would all be over soon. The doctor smiled back, overjoyed at the briefness of the trial itself. With any luck they would be gone within the hour.

Sherlock had gotten up and was pacing in the back of the hall, something obviously bothering him.

"How are you doing?" John asked, looking thoughtfully at Celestia. "Living with Sherlock and all, that is."

"Oh, I moved out, my place is finished," she explained. "I miss him though."

"Sherlock? He's only upstairs," John replied with a laugh.

"True," she smiled. "I guess I got used to body parts in the fridge and gunshots at 3 am."

John chuckled, he was probably the only person who would ever understand what she meant. "So will you be getting a job then, or what? You probably don't want to sit around the flat all day."

"I'm helping Sherlock with cases, actually."

"Really?" John was exceedingly surprised.

"What?"

"Well I don't know," he stammered, "just that you don't mind him and he tolerates you and you actually still want to be there after all this craziness." He motioned to the room with his hand.
"Sounds an awful lot like when you were his blogger, huh? Sherlock still talks to you every so often you know."'
John didn't have a chance to express his opinion on that matter when the jurors had returned and the verdict was to be announced. Sherlock slipped back into his seat quickly. The announcement was made that James should be brought back to the stand to he given one last chance to defend himself in light of the lack of evidence to support his claim of innocence.

As he took the stand, Welsh took a deep breath, acting as though he were about to admit something he had sworn to keep secret. "I was manipulated by Clara Fairworth." Celestia, John, and Sherlock froze as James went on to weave this elaborate tale of deceit and blackmail. "She framed me to allow her to get away with crimes she put in motion and then killed herself to cover it up," he concluded. The mood in the room seemed to shift as the jury left once again to discuss the verdict. Celestia's knuckles were white as she dug her nails into her hands, breaking the delicate skin of her palm. She was unable to speak until the groups had returned and the verdict was given.

"We find James Welsh not guilty of any and all crimes he is accused of. No sentence-" The rest didn't matter to Celestia as her face drained of color. She didn't notice when Sherlock pushed past her towards a pair of side doors that James was being led through by two officers. John looked like he wanted to shoot someone, but unfurled one of her clenched fists and held her hand tightly instead.
Sherlock approached the officers in a stride of controlled anger. Luckily, Greg Lestrade was the last one to step through the door and Sherlock caught him by the shoulder before he could close off the entrance.

"I demand five minutes." Sherlock's eyes drilled holes into the detective inspectors forehead.

"I can't," he hissed quietly. "He's under the protection of the law-"

"He won't refuse me." Sherlock pushed past Greg and entered a small room connected to an office. The officers retreated to the adjacent room to make a call while a perfectly calm James Welsh sat smugly in an armchair.

"How'd ya like my story?" he asked cheerfully. "I'd already won the case, but I think my audience deserved a good show."

"How?" Sherlock growled.

"Oh come now Sherlock, you've seen that trick before, you just don't want to admit it. I learned that one from a friend."

"Welsh," he threatened in a low voice.

"What? You don't actually think that's my name, do you?" James laughed sharply. "I suppose we haven't been properly introduced, Mr. Holmes." He stuck his hand out in greeting.

"Sebastian Moran."