Chapter 6: Leverage

Gus was unnerved by how quiet Shawn has been for the past seven hours.

Night was about to fall in Santa Barbara, and Shawn was sitting at his desk, writing down everything that happened today. He was constantly muttering to himself countless possibilities as to motives and locations, and his theories as to how Robert Anderson died were becoming more and more outlandish, even going as far as to mutter something about the Eddie Murphy alien from Meet Dave having something to do with it. Gus sighed, got up from his desk, and walked over to the door, stopping next to Shawn.

"I'm gonna go grab a bite," Gus stated. "You want me to bring you anything?"

"Huh?" Shawn didn't even lift his head. "Yeah sure, whatever."

Gus gave Shawn one last worried look before going out the door. As he approached the street, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text message before dialing a different number and waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Hey John, it's me, Gus."

"Oh, hey."

"So, what're you doing right now?"

"Just sitting around in the hotel room while Sherlock is in his mind palace."

Gus raised an eyebrow. "His what?"

"It's kind of hard to explain."

"You wanna grab a drink? I know a place downtown."

"Sure, I could use a beer right now."

Little did Gus know as he was telling John where to meet him and getting into his car, that he was being watched. As Gus drove off, a black sedan drove off after him.

Henry knew his son too well.

What does he find once he sets foot in Psych HQ? Shawn fast asleep at his desk, drooling on the papers in front of him.

The psychic's father rolled his eyes and nudged his son, who bolted up in shock.

"Yes, he does look like a bitch, Samuel L. Jackson! Please don't kill me!"

Shawn then realized that his father was there.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

"Well first," Henry started. "I fail to recall actually approving you to go after Allison."

Shawn opened his mouth to speak, but Henry raised his hand to cut him off.

"Look, I know you can't guarantee you'll be safe. Your last confrontation with Yin proved that. But, I also know that if anyone can catch these psychos, you can."

"So is that a yes?" Shawn asked.

Henry nodded.

"Good, because I already started going through-"

"The other reason I'm here is because Gus told me that I needed to talk to you."

Henry grabbed a chair and sat down across from Shawn.

"So what's the problem?"

Shawn shifted his eyes downward. He's learned from his childhood that he could never hide anything from his dad.

"You know the British buisnessman who turned up dead this morning?" Shawn started.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, the British government sent their own consultant to investigate. Sherlock Holmes."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "The guy from the blogs?"

Shawn gave his father an annoyed look.

"Sorry," Henry quickly said.

Shawn sighed and went on.

"The guy's a complete jerk. He's a snob, he's condescending, he has a disturbing fascination with the circumstances of his cases, he's-"

"Your exact opposite," Henry finished.

Shawn looked down at his desk.

"It's just, I can't work with him, dad. We're too different."

Henry sighed. "Look Shawn, there's always going to be times where you have to work with people you don't like. Hell, you should know that by now. Remember Declan?"

"That was different," Shawn dismissed. "I didn't exactly dislike him, I was jealous of him."

"That's beside the point," Henry said. "If you and this Sherlock guy keep going at eachother's throats, this case will never get solved. But you two are both very intelligent individuals-"

Henry paused.

"What?" Shawn asked.

"I never thought I'd use that word to describe you," Henry joked.

"Ha ha."

"Anyway, you guys would get alot more accomplished if you put aside your personal differences and work together. If you did that, this case can be solved in no time."

"But Dad, it's not that simple-"

Shawn was interupted by his phone going off. He pulled it out and read a text.

"What is it?"

"Woody found Robert Anderson's cause of death," Shawn said.

Henry stood up. "Alright, then let's get going."

Shawn stood up as well, and both of them headed out to Henry's car.

"So he had to make it look like the cat was speaking to him 'psychically'!"

John laughed. He was sitting with Gus at a near empty bar downtown, cold mug of beer in hand as he and Gus exchanged stories about their respective best friends.

"And the police bought that?" John asked, bewildered.

Gus shrugged. "I highly doubt it, but they go along with alot of Shawn's antics as long as he shows results."

John shrugged. "That seems to be the case with most consultants these days."

"Do you think Shawn and Sherlock are really all that different?" Gus pondered.

John took a sip from his mug. He scratched his chin in thought.

"I think that in terms of personalities, they're polar opposites. Shawn is more laidback and fun seeking, while Sherlock is... Sherlock."

John then gave Gus a smirk.

"I'd take a bullet for Sherlock, but if it were for a day or two, I'd trade him for Shawn."

Gus snorted.

"Please. You do not want Shawn as a partner. He's like a brother to me, but he can be pretty obnoxious."

"Sherlock is just as, or even more, obnoxious."

"Well at least Sherlock doesn't steal your food and break your stuff."

"At least Shawn doesn't store severed heads and disemboweled organs in the refridgerator."

Gus nearly choked on his drink at that revelation.

"On second thought, keep Sherlock," Gus said.

It was at that moment that the door opened and Gus noticed two people, a man and a woman, come in and sit at the far end of the counter.

The man had light brown, shaggy hair, and a gruff demeanor, looking as if he's been in too many fights to count. But his most noticable feature was a scar running down his neck.

And the woman...

Gus gave a small squeal of fright as he recognized the blonde hair, hardened face, and the cold, icy eyes staring at him.

Allison had found them.

"What's wrong?" John said, as he noticed Gus' expression.

"We need to go," Gus said as he stood up quickly.

"Why would we-"

John broke off as he saw Allison and the man accompanying her. However, he was more suprised by the man's appearance.

"Moran," John muttered.

"Let's go out the back way," Gus whispered.

Quietly, and desperately hoping that the criminals wouldn't notice them, the two investigators lightly treaded the floor of the bar towards the back exit, coming out in the alley way.

"Okay," John started. "We need to go to the police department and get them to come back here before..."

He froze at the sound of several guns being cocked. He and Gus turned to see about ten thugs, all armed and ready to shoot if the duo so much as blinked.

"What do you usually do in situations like these?" John asked Gus.

"Either run or wait for the cops to make a dramatic rescue," Gus responded.

"Neither of those options seem like the best right now," John pointed out.

"You know what I like most about America, John?" a voice rang out.

Gus and John turned to see Moran and Allison walking out the exit and approaching them.

Moran smirked. "How easily you can kidnap someone without being noticed."

Allison winked at Gus, who shuddered in revulsion.

"Hello, Gus. It's been far too long."

Blissfully unaware of the situation unraveling across town, Sherlock inspected the various tools and corpses stored in the Santa Barbara Police Department morgue. One particular corpse intrigued him.

"So this victim was killed from his food being spiked with peanut oil?" Sherlock called over to Woody the coroner.

"Oh, yes," Woody answered enthusiastically as he joined the British detective. "Aparently, this man was involved in a custody battle with his ex-wife, and since she knew he had a peanut allergy, she was almost able to get away with blaming his death on merely choking on his food."

Sherlock looked with interest as Woody began to show him the body.

"Now notice here," he lectured as he pointed to the dead man's throat. "That the throat heavily contracted as a result of the allergy. That's what prevented anybody from being able to dislodge the food, due to it being stuck in such a tight area. And she only administered enough to trigger this reaction instead of any other noticable ones. "

"Fascinating," muttered Sherlock.

He then inspected the victim's feet and looked down at Woody's shoes.

"Why are you wearing the deceased's loafers?"

Woody eyed Sherlock with curiosity as to how he was able to deduce that. But after a few seconds, he shrugged.

"My wife gave my old pair to one of her lovers. These are the only ones I could find that fit my feet."

"The personal trainer or the pool cleaner?"

"The mailman," Shawn said as he walked in with who Sherlock assumed to be Spencer Sr.

"I actually had a drink with him," Woody said. "He was pretty nice."

Sherlock and Shawn began to glare at eachother, their previous encounter floating to the surface of their minds.

"Your cheek's looking better," Sherlock commented.

"So's yours," Shawn responded.

"I'd just like to say that how I acted today was out of character," Sherlock said briskly.

"Is that an apology?"

"No, merely stating a fact. My point is, that no matter how satisfiying it would be, you don't have to worry about me punching you again unless in self defense."

"Same here."

"Good."

Shawn then let out a cough that suspiciously sounded like asshole.

Henry rolled his eyes and addressed Woody.

"Have Juliet and Lassiter already seen the body?"

"Oh, yes, now its your turn," Woody said, remembering why they were all there. He then walked over to the operating table, where the pale corpse of Robert Anderson rested.

"I followed Mr. Holmes' hunch and took some blood samples from the body," he explained. "And I found something that I'd never thought I would see working here."

He took a stopper and sucked up a drop of blood from a vial, then administered it onto a microscope slide. He then slid the slide into said microscope.

"Go ahead and take a look."

Shawn tried to make his way to the microscope, but Sherlock shoved him out of the way and beat him to it.

"Hey!"

Sherlock smirked as he looked into the microscope. "Please Spencer, we all know how you would treat this delicate tool like a preschool toy."

Shawn darted his eyes. There was no use denying that he was planning on doing something childish with the microscope, but he was still making up his mind on what exactly to do with it.

Henry aparently got the same idea and rolled his eyes at his son once again.

Sherlock ajusted the knobs on the device as he studied the blood sample. As he recognized the chemicals in the blood, Sherlock realized that they were all components to make one thing.

"Nerve gas," he muttered.

"Surely, you know it's rude to mumble," Shawn spoke up.

"It's not rude if your mumbling to yourself," Sherlock said. "And don't call me Shirley."

Shawn almost jumped in shock.

Henry was also suprised.

"Did you just make an Airplane! reference?" Shawn asked in a bewildered tone.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "When did I ever mention an airplane?"

"No, that line you just said," Henry said. "Don't call me Shirley."

"Oh, yes, my brother Mycroft called me that alot when we were kids, so I have developed a distaste for the nickname."

Shawn's jaw dropped.

"Are you telling me you've never seen Airplane!? One of the most famous comedies of all time?"

"Never heard of it," Sherlock shrugged bluntly.

"Never heard of- what about Monty Python and the Holy Grail?"

"Heard of it, never saw it."

"Spaceballs?"

"No."

"Blue's Brothers?"

"No."

"Ghostbusters?"

"No."

"..."

Shawn merely threw up his hands in defeat. "Alright, so what did you find in the blood?"

"I said it was all the chemical components that can make up a nerve gas," Sherlock explained. "Which means that Anderson was killed away from his home, sice if his home was gassed the police wouldn't have been able to approach it for days."

Sherlock scratched his chin. "From the looks of it, the gas was perfected so that it wouldn't show any signs that it affected the human body that inhaled it. The question is, where would these people have gotten something like this?"

Just then, the four men heard rushing outside the room, and Juliet burst in.

"You guys have to come quick!" she said urgently.

Shawn, Sherlock and Henry followed her upstairs to the main floor of the Police Department, where Chief Vick was clutching an envelope.

"What's wrong, Chief?" Shawn inquired.

Vick gave Shawn a concerned look. "This just came in. It's for you and our guest."

Shawn took the envolpe. It had the Yin Yang symbol on it. Hastily, he ripped it open and pulled out the letter for him and Sherlock to see.

Guess Who!

I'm ready to take on my predecessor's work, and I'm not alone. I'm sure that you know how this whole thing works, right? Only this time, the stakes are much higher than your mother and your two girlfriends. You must have figured out by now about the nerve gas. How we got it is not very important. What is, however, is that we managed to place several canisters across Santa Barbara. We're challenging you to find all of them. The canisters have all been carfully rigged so that they'll go off with a motion sensor when one approaches them. If you can stop the nerve gas from being set off, then not only will you save hundreds of lives, also, you can find clues to locate us.

Happy Hunting!

Shawn turned the letter over to make sure there was nothing else, then turned to Sherlock.

"She kept saying 'we'," Shawn said. "Do you think she's talking about Moran?"

"Most likely," Sherlock said. "If what this letter is true, then we can't waste time. We need to find these canisters."

"But we don't know where to start," Shawn said.

"Yes we do," Juliet said suddenly. "If you two can pick up a trail back at Anderson's hotel room, then that might be able to lead us to where the canister that was used to kill him is."

"It's certainly a start," Sherlock said. "Spencer, I must admit, while I assumed most of your collegues to be incompetant, your girlfriend stands out for her own resourcefulness."

Juliet slightly blushed at this, while Shawn merely grunted.

"Okay, we can start there. But Sherlock, if we're going to find this nerve gas, we're gonna have to put aside our personal differences. There's way too much at stake for us to keep this rivalry going."

Sherlock stared at Shawn for a few moments. He then smirked.

"That may be the smartest thing I've heard you say," he conceeded.

Shawn shrugged. "Eh, I'll take that as a compliment."

He then shook hands with his counterpart.

"Wait," Juliet said, realizing something. "Where's Gus and John?"

"Gus said he was getting something to eat," Shawn said slowly.

"John said he was getting a drink," Sherlock said, just as slow and cautious.

The two detectives' eyes widened as Shawn's phone vibrated. Hesitantly, Shawn pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the new message.

On his phone screen was a picture of Burton Guster and John Watson tied in back to back chairs and gagged. Below the picture was one sentence.

Here's the grand prize if you win the game.

A/N: Will Shawn and Sherlock succeed without John and Gus to keep them in line?

Here's a quote to think about while you're waiting to find out:

From Batman: Arkham City:

"So how do you keep a secret from the World's Greatest Detective? Well, do you know? You stick it right up under him. Right up under his long pointy nose, and wait."

Read and Review