Red Roses For Snow White
Fic: Red Roses For Snow White: Chapter 2
chapter 1
chapter 3
The corpse had been thrown among the debris, which was visible despite of the snow, like it had become useless, abandoned junk itself. In the eyes of the killer, who had thrown it there, it was used and useless. Sherlock checked the body thoroughly. He didn´t ever mix his feelings with his work, it would be a great mistake. Other people didn’t usually understand, not even John.
The dead man was twenty four to twenty six years old. He had died maybe two to three hours ago, but several bad-looking marks, scars and burns on his skin indicated serious maltreatment over a period of… weeks? Maybe even a month? The victim had probably been a waiter or a bartender, nothing too physical, but had to stand a lot. He could have been a hairdresser or even a teacher, but these were less likely. When the detective checked the police reports about missing young men at the area of Central London within some weeks, he finally found a bartender working in Soho, who had disappeared a month ago. His name was Charlie Brown, single. He had left from work alone at one am, when a colleague saw him walking in the direction of Tottenham Court Road, and then he had disappeared. But it was mentioned that he used to hang out on Clapham Common.
“Is this good?” Cat asked, as if she had given a present to him.
“It is interesting, yes.”
Under the man’s nails were bruises, where something has been forced under them. Black marks from electricity shocks and burns, cuts made by a knife on his skin. Deep wounds on his ankles and wrists had been made by some thin material, and there was evidence of strangulation. Thin cuts, made by a sharp knife like a scalpel, were all over his chest, forming some kind of pattern, and he had bruises all over him.
Sherlock checked his surroundings. Because it has snowed a few hours before, it wasn´t difficult to find the wheel traces. The tracks of the car´s wheels- not an ordinary car, but heavier and bigger. A van, then. The traces were still visible on the road, it had driven towards southwest an hour or so, maybe towards Clapham Common? It would be a suitable park for anonymous confrontations. Wheels have deep treads and were ease to follow in snow.
Charlie was the fifth victim. The next before this was found a mouth ago, just before Charlie disappeared. Before that, there was two weeks between victims, and then a month. The need for a new toy had grown too demanding; he was probably out to seek a new one.
If Sherlock was lucky enough, he could have a chance of finding the killer. But he had to go at once, before the weather could warm up and melt the snow. The wheel traces would vanish and the murderer would disappear.
“Are you going after Predator? Don´t you need to call your friend first?”
“It is not necessary. I am just checking. I have to go, before he gets a chance to disappear.”
He was somewhere out there. Sherlock was sure of it.
Sherlock left alone after the serial killer, who obsessed over young good-looking men. Cat had lived on the street for so many years of her life that she hardly remembered what it was like to live in a house, and was unused to intervening in other people´s business. She was used to taking care of only herself. She hardly gave a second thought to somebody else’s life. But now she was worried.
She fingered the money which she had just been given, but it didn´t feel as comforting as usual. He shouldn´t have gone after Predator alone. Predator was dangerous. She hesitated a second, but then she had to go. It wasn´t safe to stay there any longer. The police could find this place. Besides, she had things to do, she had to keep herself moving, to find a place to rest that night and buy some food with the money she got from Sherlock Holmes. She hadn’t the luxury to think about the corpse, Predator or the blue-eyed man any longer. At least he had a home to return to, where a friend - a lover? - was waiting for him.
oOo oOo oOo
Neville recognized the white van which used to drive around the area. He had seen it regularly in this area. It had parked near the shadowy park.
A perfect place for a lonely hunter to catch his next prey, because no one would take much notice of him there. He hadn’t planned to catch a new guy tonight, when he had just relieved the last one. But it hadn’t been very satisfactory; the guy was too ordinary, too predictable. He gave up too easily and there wasn´t really much fun in it. So he felt hungry, as if he had eaten too little, and it only made him angrier. The next prey had better be good. His restlessness had brought him back to his old hunting ground, although he hadn´t planned it beforehand. His hunter´s instinct told him to do so.
Neville was the one with shadows, so Predator didn´t notice him. Instead they both saw a young man in a black long coat circling the silent park. The shadowy figure seemed familiar to Neville. Did he know him? He resembled one Sherlock Holmes, a private detective, who had been hired by his wife to find him, a long time ago. Shortly after that incident Neville´s wife had divorced him, and soon found another man, and Neville had lived permanently on the streets after that. His wife got everything in the divorce except the clothes off his back.
He could have blamed Sherlock Holmes from his unlucky life turn, but there didn’t seem much point.
He couldn´t see whether the young man in the park was Sherlock Holmes. He probably just reminds me of him, Neville said to himself. He knew that people around here late at night were normally after something. Sex, company, warmth- even love, as foolish as it may sound. But he didn’t realise what this man was looking for until he saw the white van. Neville would have advised him to stay away from it, but instead he stayed still in his hiding place. He saw the young man come closer to the van until…
It happened so quickly. The young man went to check the van, the wheels, the paint, what did he do?
Now Neville was sure that he should have warned the young man, the owner of the van had a certain reputation among the street people. Neville saw how the driver of the van came out, said something to the guy and then stopped, as if to take a better look at the young man. They talked, and then something happened as if it had been practised beforehand. The owner grabbed the younger man´s arm suddenly and made some almost imperceptible movement, which made the younger man shout out loud, step back and begin to lose his balance. He looked like he was suddenly drunk, although he was completely balanced earlier. The driver pushed the younger man towards the back of the van. He tried to resist, this much was clear, but it wasn´t enough, and he has been pushed inside the van, the doors had closed and the car had driven away.
Of course Neville should have told this to someone, for example to the police, but he was one of the street people. He had been arrested earlier, and because of that he didn´t report it.
The young man might be famous Sherlock Holmes, who had revealed to Neville´s wife how he spent his free time.
oOo oOo oOo
Sugar sugar sugar
Honey you're so sweet
And beside you baby
Nothing can compete
He had found him.
The shining eyes of Predator were looking for a challenging prey, one which he could tame, suppress and finally give a hint of mercy. It was his overwhelming obsession and passion. Cold unmoving beams of the city´s lights reflected in his cold eyes when he prowled for his victims, unseen and undetectable in the shadows. The more they fought back, the more satisfaction he got. The moment of joy and fulfilment for him was when they finally broke. He overpowered them, made them crawl in front of him and beg for more, however humiliating it would be. They begged him not to stop; he made them forget their own safety and personal dignity. He made them swallow everything he ordered them to swallow.
Finally they begged for their own death. It was the moment of ultimate victory to him. It was also the turning point, because after that he lost interest in his victim, he became bored of his mindless faggot slave, and he would kill him. It was the last enjoyment his slave could give him, and it was the end of the story. There were no exceptions. Then he lived in peace for a while, worked for his daily living and lived a quiet insignificant life- until the restlessness filled him again and forced him to look for a suitable new victim to train. But he had noticed that the periods of rest and quietness had shortened with time, that the restlessness overwhelmed him sooner.
This last one was the best ever. He almost couldn´t believe his luck that he managed to catch such a first class piece of meat. He investigated his new, still unconscious prey, after he had undressed him and secured his wrists and ankles by strings onto the table. This beauty had no idea yet who he had fallen victim to, but he’d find out very soon. The serial killer smiled to himself gleefully, satisfied with what he saw in front of him. A very pale young man, slim but in good shape, wild black curls framing his rare beauty. He would have a lot of nice times with this one. Besides, he had literally run to his arms. The killer did notice that the young man was interested in him. He had to be some kind of detective or a police officer. No, not the police, he didn´t look at all like a police officer, so a detective then. But this time he had bitten off more than he could chew. The man started to wake up, the effect of the drug was fading. He groaned weakly, opened his eyes blurrily and saw Predator above him. He was still disorientated from the drug the man had introduced into his circulation, but he was recovering. He tried to move, to rise to a sitting position, but couldn´t. He checked his surroundings, and pulled at his restraints to test their strength. The green-blue, jewel like eyes investigated the older man standing in front of him.
“Good morning, my beauty. Take your time, we are not in a hurry. I have plenty of time and I mean to get to know you better. That is all I want from you, to get know you.”
It was a lie.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know him more than he realised.