Human Error - Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter thirty four - results

During the morning the next day, Sherlock received the lab results from Molly. After finding out his name was Ryan Beckett, we immediately told Lestrade. Mainly so we could get a hold of his file, not because we were obliged to tell him everything we found out on a case.

John sat on his personal armchair, typing away at something on his laptop. It's my blog, my therapist said it would be a good idea, I remember him saying. Letting out a tired sigh, I stood up from the couch and made my way towards Sherlock who was sat at the table in the living room, reading through the new information he had.

"Found out anything?" I question lazily, my eyes landing on the few bits and pieces I had read earlier. I found out he owned a restaurant in Birmingham, has a son called Adam Beckett, and there were also a few other things, such as he was caught shoplifting a few times in his early twenties. But there was nothing particularly interesting; nothing that screams murder.

"Not much." He sighed, eyes still focusing on the text. "He owned a restaurant, I have no doubt that his son Adam would own it along with his money after Ryan was gone."

"So, you're betting it's a greed thing?"

"Yes."

"But that doesn't make sense," I start, looking down at the picture of Ryan that was printed on his profile, "If Adam was on the will anyway, then why murder your father?"

"Maybe he was in some serious trouble and needed the money urgently, but Ryan refused to help. And look," He grabbed another piece of paper that was hidden underneath the profile of Ryan. It was a silver necklace with a woman on that had the words 'Saint Agatha' written on. Lestrade gave it us earlier, it was found on the body before they took it to the morgue to be examined. "This is old, most likely something that ran down in the family. It all leads the Adam, but I will know for sure when I speak to him."

"When you speak to him?"

"Yes, he's been asked to come into the station for questioning. If my estimations and the time I thought as a conclusion is correct, Lestrade should be calling me right about n--"

Just on cue, his phone rings.

"Pfft." I shook my head, "You didn't work that out. That was a guess."

"Yeah, maybe." He shrugged softly, giving me a smile before answering his phone. "Is Adam there?"

I stood and listened in to Sherlock's responses, John doing the same as he looked up from his laptop at the sound of the phone ringing. Finally, Sherlock hung up and walked towards the peg on the back of the door to grab his coat.

"They just spoke to Adam and said we can quickly come and have a talk before they let him go. I'm sure talking to him will tell us who killed Ryan -- these kind of murders are never random, there is always sentiment involved." Sherlock informed, putting on his big black coat and turning his collar up for dramatic effect.

"Human error."

Sherlock meets my eyes, and our stare locks for a brief moment. Human error was something I heard Mycroft say a lot to Sherlock when we were kids. Not that he had invented the phrase or anything, but it's something that I had got used to saying. I think it was something me and Sherlock had got used to saying. When an individual made a sentimental mistake, we would blame it on human error; when feelings are involved, anything could happen.

Sherlock slowly nodded his head. "Human error." He acknowledged, finally tearing his eyes away and rushing towards the front door downstairs.

We get there in almost no time.  The interrogation room is not a very comfortable room. It was sparsely furnished, with just a table and about three chairs. The furniture is plain, nothing too fancy beside a cassette recorder on the table. There is a large mirror on one side of the room, facing the person being questioned, that is actually a one-way mirror so the interrogation can be witnessed or monitored by people hidden. Sherlock, however, walks into the room like it was a second home. He doesn't seem uncomfortable, just eager and ready to interview the tall and olive-skinned boy sat at the table waiting nervously.

"I don't understand," The young man started impatiently, "I've already talked to the police. Why do you need to ask me more questions?"

"We're not the police." Sherlock stated.

"Please, I know it must be tough after finding out your dad passed and under such awful circumstances, but we need to ask a few questions in order to find out who murdered him." John spoke with compassion, taking a seat next to Sherlock. There weren't any more space seats, but that didn't bother me. I could tell we wouldn't be here long, so instead, I just crossed my arms and waited.

"Why was the pair of you staying at that hotel, Mr Beckett?" Sherlock inquired.

"My dad wanted to extend the business to London, he was here for a meeting. His trip would last for about a week, so he got a hotel. Of course, he never got to go to that meeting..." Adam trailed on, his eyes welling up. He shook his head, trying to get rid of his tears.

"You were both staying at the hotel? Where were you on the night he was murdered?" I spoke up, eyes furrowed.

"I was getting this tattoo," He told us, lifting his arm to show us the black ink staining his arm that read 'Mom' in the center of a heart. "It was something I wanted to get for awhile, I found this really cool tattoo place about half an hour away from where I was staying, it was cheaper than the one in--"

"Yes, yes, get to the point." Sherlock voiced with annoyance.

"I, uh... well, they have cameras. You can check my alibi with them."

"This necklace." Sherlock started, passing him a photo of the silver piece of jewelry with 'Saint Agatha' written on. "Do you know it?"

"It's my mothers." He answered, clearing his throat. "Was my mothers. She passed away a few years ago... Cancer."

"Do you know why it was found on Ryan's body after he was pulled from the water?"

"No." He shook his head, "I left it in my house in Birmingham. I swear, the necklace is too important to me, but it's not something I'd wear out. I keep it safe at home."

"So who took it?"

"I don't know. I don't know anyone who'd want to frame me like that!"

"But what about your dad?" I asked. He shook his head again.

"No one. My dad was a great guy, I don't know why anyone would want to... you know, do that to him."

"Mr Beckett, am I right to assume that you are left in your father's will for his money and restaurant?" Sherlock raised his brows curiously.

"Um, no. But that doesn't mean I would kill him for it!" Adam quickly added to defend himself. "I mean, I was going to get the bloody will. Me and my dad got into an argument a few years ago and we didn't start speaking again up until last year. After that we were really close, I'd help him out at work a lot. On my birthday he told me he wanted me to have his will, just so I could take after him. Please, I didn't kill my dad. You have to believe me!"

"I do believe you." Sherlock told him, and Adam lets out a huge sigh of relief. "One more thing: who did your father plan to get his will to before you?"

"Oh, uh, Joe Turner. He's my cousin." He confirmed, "But it couldn't have been him, he's back in London, taking charge of the restaurant while we are here. There are cameras that prove it!"

"Fantastic. Thank you, Mr. Beckett." Sherlock gave him a pleased smile, before pushing back in his chair and standing up. "I know who killed your father."