No Post-mortems On Sundays [Joachim/Peter/Sergio]

[Deleted]

"NO ONE MURDERS ON A SUNDAY!"

Sundays were the best days of the week – specifically, lazy ones. Joachim was semi-certain that even God Almighty, the creator of time and space and little cocktail umbrellas, agreed. He had, after all, weaved the fabric of existence in six days and kicked back on heaven’s throne to enjoy a Sunday Sundae on the seventh. (If his Catholicism teacher heard this, Joachim was also semi-certain that heaven’s fury would descend from Madame Aviet’s mouth straight onto him.)

But divine punishment aside, this was already turning out to be a splendid day. Being roused by an internal alarm rather than external was a much more pleasant way to begin the morning. (Rosa had learnt not to tamper with Joachim on Sundays – she sorely regret her last unwise decision of doing so, which had resulted in a petulant Walloon-Belgian throwing quite a fuss in the cereal aisle.) Given the angle of the sunlight slanting through the curtains, Joachim would say that it was roughly ten in the morn. That meant that his housemate would be by the bread and spread section around now, trying to remember whether he liked apricot jam with wholemeal bread or flatbread. (It was neither; Joachim likes Nutella with rye bread topped with sliced bananas.) Besides that, everything seemed to be right on schedule; next up, he was going to spend half a minute contemplating the meaning of life, the universe and existence in general, before turning over for another well-deserved nap—

Knock, knock, knock.

No. No.

No no no no no no nonononononono nononononononononononononononononono oh, come on! This wasn’t supposed to happen; it’s a Sunday! Tugging the covers over his head, it seemed that the harder Joachim tried to will away the unwanted visitor at the other side of the front door, the more persistently he – or she – stayed.

Knock, knock, knock.

NoooOOooOOOooooOOOo.

Finally, he ceded. But only because he knew that there was no other way of stopping that incessant racquet besides opening the damned door. With a muted groan, he swung it open – shame that it wasn’t designed to swing outwards into the faces of others though – and let out another groan, this one pointedly less suppressed

“It’s Sunday, González. No one murders on a Sunday!"

Slinking back into bed, but leaving the door for the policeman to enter – or leave – the apartment as he desired, Joachim questioned for the umpteenth time why he had ever agreed to help the police department in their work. They called him a genius, but Joachim begged to differ. Brilliant, he may be, but a brief glance into his report cards would clearly show that Joachim was less than apt with the binomial theorem. Besides, being a ‘genius’ had too much responsibility and expectation attached to it; Joachim preferred to be underestimated, it gave him so much more room to work.

Flopping first face into his sheets, he moaned once more. “Isn’t there anyone else you can call for help, Sergio?”

coded by DESTINY of BTN

[Deleted]

from up here the city lights burn, like a thousand miles of fire

Nobody even bothered to ask 'what are you doing in so early, Sergio?' any more at the station. The answer had become pretty obvious by now, even if an off-hand 'I've work to do' was all the other staff would get as an answer. Typical of a Sunday morning especially, there were only the last few of the night shift left on duty, most of them having dragged their feet home after Saturday evening's events. Drunken students causing chaos was to be expected at least once a week, but Friday and Saturday nights were the most painstakingly obvious times for things like that to happen. Funny, Sergio thought, because most of the offenders were around his age, perhaps a little older, perhaps a little younger. They could have been doing much more constructive things with their time, but apparently they'd rather cause enough trouble to get thrown in a jail cell for a small amount of time. Not that Sergio himself ever came face-to-face with any of these such troublemakers out on duty, unless there was a crowd of them causing havoc purposefully and he was mounted. Well, he'd faced worse criminals than a few hooligans out on a drunken stupor, at any rate.

Far worse criminals, and he had an unpleasant feeling he was going to be facing yet another one of those sometime soon... The very question was, who exactly would said criminal be?

Sunday morning had started out lazily – about as lazy as London could get, actually, which was very subjective. Regent's Park had been pretty quiet at least, all the flowers in bloom and the birds singing (at least, if one were to paint a stereotypical view of the park in one's mind, those would be the most likely things going on) – and the team of gardeners putting the finishing touches upon their esteemed horticulture at the crack of dawn, just before the first opening.

The area had been sealed off less than an hour later, after a very distraught gardener had called the station to report a body in the lake. Floating, no doubt, meaning it had been in there for a few days at the very least, unnoticed until that morning.

Pleasant.

But Sergio hadn't been instructed to go to take a look at the scene itself; rather, he was given a more direct task... He had to fetch a Detective Inspector.

So there he was, at the front door of Joachim van de Velde, who didn't look particularly pleased to be awoken on a Sunday.

Sergio, stone-faced, could only tell him the blunt truth. No hellos, no questions as to why he was there; if Joachim wanted to get to the point, so did he. “Doubt this happened on a Sunday.”

Rigid, he cleared the threshold; he was a police officer carrying out orders, after all, as much as his actions may have seemed like 'trespassing'. He didn't really care to follow the other man straight back to his bedroom, though (well, that appeared to be where he was going, anyway).

“You're nearest.” His brow furrowed a little. Truth be told, if Joachim wasn't going to comply then, well, he supposed he'd have to find another detective. “And this's important.”

tag: joachim | words: 539 | notes: n/a

GLASS HAS GANGNAM STYLE

[Deleted]

At Joachim's door did Peter now stand, starting up at the entrance as if unsure of what he should do. He had watched Sergio knock first and be let into the room, but Peter didn't talk to him about his trip, or the door he had just been invited to enter. Instead, Peter hid himself quietly around a corner to simply observe, and now he sat there waiting for him to come back out so he too could address Joachim. What was the purpose behind this trip, one might ask? Peter was seeking out help and training. To be a detective himself, he would need a mentor!

Peter was, by no means, a shy young man. Oh no, such was not in his nature, it was a quality he vehemently avoided. No progress could be made through fear. In fact, Peter's lack of knocking on the Belgian's door was entirely out of an uncharacteristic courtesy. He was being polite, as Arthur had always directed, waiting for the two adults to finish talking before he interrupted. But Peter had no way of knowing how long Sergio would be in there, or even if he was going to leave at all. For all Peter knew, he would be there all day, which was not something he could allow.

He decided to wait another few minutes. How long could it be?

However, Peter's lack of patience was about to ensure that he wouldn't last long waiting. After a mere ten minutes had passed, he was standing back up at the door, arm raised as if ready to knock. He wanted to make the world's best first impression, so he'd have to plan his method of attack perfectly. If he did anything wrong - knocked too early, voice cracked, if he so much as blinked wrong, he could ruin the entire plan, and then he'd have to go back to Charlotte a shamed and disappointed lad.

This was something he could not allow! The other children were depending on him to land them a mentor!

He breathed in deeply, puffed out his chest, and held his head high, and then knocked on the door three five times. He was tempted to stop at three, but what if they didn't hear any of the three knocks? He knocked twice more to make five, with the finally two knocks being just slightly louder, just in case. He was brilliant, after all.

[Deleted]

"OH, I AM BRILLIANT."

Many in London are often deceived by the Chilean's stoic mien. Many in London are fools. Because while González's appearance was by no means a façade, he wasn't exactly the straight-laced, one-dimensional policeman most might think him to be. After numerous run-ins with the biracial officer in and out of uniform, Joachim have learnt that Sergio's wit came very much like spices; dry and sharp, and if you pay close enough attention, with just a tinge of sassy.

"Doubt this happened on a Sunday."

Exempli gratia, primus.

Joachim would have rolled his eyes, but it was unlikely that Sergio could see that through the sheets, making the point moot. And he continued, to carelessly remark: "You're nearest."

Joachim rolled over - but not entirely extracting himself from the comforts of his bed just yet - to pin the other man with a dry look. "I'm not the nearest detective, González; I'm the best." He knew that the Chilean was just funning him, of course. He did that often, teasing the Belgian about the immense pride he had in his brilliancy. Joachim Loïc van de Velde was a consulting detective - a famous phrase coined from Sir Arthur Conan's renowned Sherlock Holmes series - and he was bloody great at what he did.

But at Sergio's firm declaration that 'it's important', Joachim relented with a (truly deep) sigh (from within the depths of his soul). "Alright, alright. Tell me about the case." He untangled himself from the sheets and ambled into the kitchen, fixing up a slice of apple pie that he had just baked yesterday. (It was for the Chilean, who had a surprising sweet tooth. Or at the very least, he liked the pastries Joachim make. Who could fault him though? Belgian baked goods were delightful. Huh, maybe he should poison the pie; that would teach Sergio to keep funning him. Or he could just add spices to it. Hmmm...)

As Joachim decided to be good and serve up an untouched slice of pie, a series of knocks sounded impatiently from the front door. He paused, head tilted to listen.

"A kid," He murmured, as he always does while trying to reach the conclusion. It helped him pieced together all his thoughts, all the clues and puzzle pieces into one straight railway track that led right to the answer. "Kid at the door. Using too much vigour and strength in each pound to be a sensible adult, and from the hollow of each knock, can't be more than 13 years of age; bone structure, simple biology. Short, given the position of the door where the knocks are. Probably a lad too, just because."

And he opened the door, to reveal just that.

"Oh, I am brilliant." Joachim breathed, satisfaction in his smile. One that dropped rather quickly when he realised that this kid on his front step was a total stranger.

"And just who might you be?"

coded by DESTINY of BTN

[Deleted]

from up here the city lights burn, like a thousand miles of fire

Sergio opened his mouth to indeed say something along the lines of 'I'll go find someone else', because that would have easily shifted Joachim out of his bed, but there was no need. His eyes followed the Belgian man back through the house from the bedroom again, and to the kitchen. Well, that had been... Easier than he'd expected, actually. Somewhat of a relief, too, because the police really did need his expertise in this situation. The sooner this case was solved, the better...

...Ah, the details of the case, itself. “Horticultural staff in Regent's Park found a body in the lake there, this morning. Looks like it's been there a few days.” He explained, as he followed Joachim to the kitchen area, the door of which he stood at with his back mostly straight (save for the little slump he showed often) and his hands folded behind his back. “Male. Middle-aged. Clothed. Unarmed. No identity yet. Search for evidence's underway, though.” Evidence alone, if there was even any to be found, wasn't going to do much for them, though – they needed some kind of a lead, first.

He frowned a little, wondering if Joachim – who was currently busying himself cutting a piece of pie – was even listening to what he was saying. About to ask if he was or not, for clarification, he was stopped before doing so again when there was a knock at the door... Not just one knock – three... No, five knocks. Without a specific pace.

“A kid.” Joachim had said, before the thought could process in Sergio's mind. That made enough sense; disregarding the logical observations that Joachim made promptly afterwards, most adults didn't knock in that manner anyway. And of course, when the front door was opened and a young lad indeed was stood there, as admirable as Joachim's deducting skills were, he expected nothing less from him – so, the bigger question in Sergio's mind was, simply enough, what was a kid was doing there?

tag: joachim/peter | words: 336 | notes: n/a

GLASS HAS GANGNAM STYLE

[Deleted]

Gasp.

It was him.

And judging from the way he mumbled and muttered, muffled by the doorway, Peter could only assume he was making some kind of brilliant deduction about him and was simply amazed by the fact he was right. Of course he was right, though. Joachim was one of those men Peter looked up to for this kind of stuff. Peter was an intelligent lad in his own right, but he held no candle to the brain of Joachim van de Velde. He gave the Belgian an enthusiastic though plainly unpracticed salute and stood rigid, all to impress.

“Peter Kirkland, sir!” Sir, a term he used to only address people he wished to look good in front of, which oddly enough didn’t apply to a large chunk of his family members, all of whom received the more informal Peter rather than one who was actually good for them most of the time. His heart pounded as he stood there, looking up at this man who was a beacon of intelligence. Oh boy, were his friends going to be jealous they didn’t tag along! He told them he managed the right address after months of research and tracking!

“It’s an honor. I—we—my friends and I, we’re all huge fans. You’re brilliant, you know!” Peter vomited words clumsily in the presence of his non-familial idol. This was getting really awkward for him really fast, and in an attempt to save face and don a more casual demeanor he dropped the salute and tried to loosen himself up, which only resulted in him stumbling slightly to the left. “But that’s why I’m here. We need a teacher, a mentor. Someone awesome and cool enough to train us because we want to be smart and brilliant too.”

“… and also because we have our own little crime-solving group except, you know…. Not professional.” And they didn’t solve murders. That wasn’t quite their thing yet.

[Deleted]

JOACHIM WAS SO COOL.

A man, huh? Well, that at least stroked off the common rape-murder scenario from the list - that, and the fact that, despite this being the United Kingdom, land of the polite tolerance, it was highly unlikely that a criminal would bother themselves with redressing their victims, especially if their imminent dispossession was the goal.

"Have you checked through the database for any recent reports of missing persons, and taken his DNA and finger print for identification?" He murmured, though those actions could only go so far to aid the case.

Moving ahead, Joachim leant against the sturdy door frame as his eyes assessed the sight before him. A lad, as he had deducted moments before, that was seemingly abecedarian, with a shaky salute that looked strangely in place with his vastly out of place sailor attire.

Kirkland, did he say? Q's bairn? The Belgian did not recall ever seeing a golden band upon that man's hand, and though it could have been a child of wedlock, it was quickly dismissed in his mind - for other than the prominent caterpillars for brows all Kirkland heirs inherited, young Peter in front of him neither had the bone structure or hair colouring of the older redhead. Perhaps a cousin, maybe an uncle, then.

"It’s an honor. I—we—my friends and I, we’re all huge fans. You’re brilliant, you know! But that’s why I’m here. We need a teacher, a mentor. Someone awesome and cool enough to train us because we want to be smart and brilliant too."

Cool, eh? The corners of Joachim's lips quirked up in a slight smile. Well, if Joachim had any trace of modesty (which he did not), he would have certainly held back from agreeing with the kid's statement and adding a few more mental notes of his own. How has the lad not mention his exceptionally handsome looks? Joachim was so cool.

"Why don't you come in?" He offered, side-stepping to allow Peter access. The kid continued on with:

"… and also because we have our own little crime-solving group except, you know… Not professional."

At that, he stifled slightly, slanting a well-meaning look at the police officer still standing in his living room. There wasn't anything wrong with having a little crime-solving team; it kept the children entertained and out of trouble usually. But eager kitties are anxious to grow up quick, and might stumble into more than they'd bargained for. Joachim wondered if there was any adult supervision for this little group.

"That sounds impressive," Joachim praised, gesturing for Peter to take a seat and snagging the plate of untouched apple pie to offer it to the lad. "But let's start from the beginning, shall we? How exactly, Mister Peter, did you come to know about me and how did you find me?"

coded by DESTINY of BTN

[Deleted]

from up here the city lights burn, like a thousand miles of fire

Sergio decided promptly after wondering why the kid was there that, in all honesty, he didn't care. Or, rather, he couldn't afford to. He opened his mouth again to say something about this, but Joachim answered him then, asking about the identification. “It's bein' dealt with. There's a couple'f possibilities.” He paused, eyeing the lad at the door; he decided against saying anything more about the victim's identity... For the time being, at least.

Of course, Joachim seemed to take a liking to the praise this Peter Kirkland was giving him. Before Sergio knew it, the Belgian had let him into the apartment and offered him the untouched slice of pie. Sergio hadn't wanted it, so he didn't care about that; he was more concerned about what exactly Joachim was doing. Or, indeed, not doing. Because sitting back down for a chat was the complete opposite of hopping out of the door and getting to work.

He coughed hard, once, to clear his throat. “We don't have time for this. The team're waitin'. We need ya down at the park.” Truth be told, though, he was a little more bothered about the then and there – even if there was time to entertain a kid by nodding and agreeing with everything he said, where Joachim might lead a team of self-proclaimed child detectives. He sighed inwardly. Perhaps if he stressed it enough, Joachim might catch on... Though, judging by the look Joachim had given him, maybe he already had.

Regardless of that, he didn't think the ego-stroking was going to be shrugged off so easily. Sergio straightened up his posture a little, interrupting again. “S'much as I'd like t'hear 'bout your reputation, too...” He made a point to say this very sardonically; deadpan, as if he'd rather hear about anything else in the world than that. Which wasn't entirely false. “...S'really not th'time.”

tag: joachim/peter | words: 312 | notes: n/a

GLASS HAS GANGNAM STYLE

[Deleted]

Oh God.

Peter was just invited into the establishement of the famed and idolized Joachim. It took every ounce of willpower Peter had in order to stabilize himself. A boy with lesser strength would have cracked and started hyperventilating right there! His heart was beating a thousand kilometers an hour and was threatening to burst out of his chest out of sheer excitement. With no way to vent out his pent-up emotions, he did the only thing he was able to do: ramble.

"I've seen you in the paper! I mean, you're not always mentioned in a lot of detail because they don't like to always credit you, but you're usually the brains behind the solving of all the murders and stuff right?" Peter took a deep breath. "So my friends and I - we're all smart, you know - we decided we were going to try and open up our own crime-solving agency because we need money to buy things our parents won't buy for us but the problem is no one thinks we're good enough or smart enough so no one hires us."

He took another breath. There was no end in sight.

"So I memorized the spelling of your name which was a good start because Arthur kept throwing out the newspaper and I went to work trying to find you. You're a pretty hard man to find, you know? A lot of the specifics are classified but Arthur works in the government so he has all sorts of access to hidden files so while he was in the bathroom once I hopped onto his computer and started looking around for you. I had to look at a few addresses because for some reason there are three of you - probably to throw off your enemies, smart!"

The boy's ability to talk was nothing short of astounding.

"I had to narrow it down to this place. Considering your reputation and how much you get paid and ease of access when you're needed I figured you'd be in the nicest building of the three with the most formal surroundings so you'd be professional and comfortable at the same time. Also the computer said "Detective" so... yeah. I figured." He stood tall with a grin that faded almost immediately.

That story wasn't as impressive as it sounded in his mind. Ooops.