Lost and Found (Sherlock x Reader)

The Great Game (Part 6)

"D'you reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?" Lestrade asked as the four of you walked over to the dead body.

"Must be. Odd, though." Sherlock held up the pink phone. "He hasn't been in touch."

You saw the body just a few yards away. He was a larger man wearing a white shirt, black pants, and black socks.

"But we must assume that some poor bugger's primed to explode, yeah?" Lestrade continued.

"Yes." Sherlock took a step back to get a better look at the body. You stepped up next to him. Kneeling down beside the body, you began to search for anything that might be useful. The first thing that stuck out to you was the bruising around his mouth.

"Any ideas?" Questioned Lestrade.

"Seven...so far," Sherlock responded.

"Seven?" Both you and Lestrade asked in disbelief.

"You've hardly even looked at the body," You said.

Sherlock knelt down next to you. "That's why I haven't been able to narrow it down yet."

"Ah, of course," You said while standing back up. "Well, I wouldn't want to get in your way."

You stood by John and Lestrade as Sherlock examined the body. Sherlock made his way from the head to the feet, taking in as much information as he could and coming up with theories.
After he was finished, he motioned for John to do his part. John glanced at Lestrade seeming to ask for permission. Lestrade simply waved out his hand in a gesture saying "be my guest."
While John squatted down beside the dead man, Sherlock stood beside you and pulled out his phone.

"He's dead about twenty-four hours—maybe a bit longer," John said then looked up at the DI. "Did he drown?"

"Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiation," Lestrade answered.

"Yes, I'd agree."

You stepped forward. "So that's where the bruising came from then. Whoever murdered him."

"Yeah," John agreed. "All around the mouth and nose. Quite a bit of bruising."

"Fingertips," Sherlock said softly.

"What?" You asked, but he did not answer you.

"In his late thirties, I'd say," John continued to diagnose. "Not in the best condition."

"He's been in the river a long while," Sherlock chimed in. "The water's destroyed most of the data." Everyone's attention was now diverted to him. You watched as his lips twitched into a smirk. "But I'll tell you one thing: that lost Vermeer painting's a fake."

You blinked in surprise at such a wild accusation.

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"How does that play into any of this?" You questioned.

But Sherlock didn't respond to either one of you. "We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates-"

"Wait-wait-wait! What painting?" Lestrade interrupted. "What are you on about?"

"It's all over the place. Haven't you seen the posters?" Sherlock asked as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago; now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds."

"Okay, so what has that got to do with the stiff?"

"Everything," Sherlock answered with a grin. "Have you ever heard of the Golem?"