Chapter 16- Rooting Through A Guys' Dirty Underwear.

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A/N- So I finally finished writing this chapter, I hit a wall in the middle and managed to pick myself up thanks to @klara_fandomer and @vastanarada who commented and voted on my author's note. It really helped to get my confidence back up. So this chapter is dedicated to both of you ;) xx

Anyway on with the chapter...

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Darcy's POV.

John had insisted we called the police as soon as we'd found the body and I'd let him in. Sherlock told me to, I didn't want to but he said he wouldn't let me analyse the scene. So I had to let him in. Sherlock called Lestrade and the police showed up five minutes later. Only, Lestrade wasn't with them.

We were stood in the bedroom with the body, someone was taking a picture of the dead Van Coon and a forensics officer was dusting for fingerprints on the mirror nearby. I was stood by the wardrobe, next to a closed suitcase on the floor. Sherlock had taken his coat off and was stood by the bed, putting some latex gloves on, and John was beside him.

"D'you think he'd lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among city boys." John suggested and I rolled my eyes, tutting loudly.

"We don't know that it was suicide." Sherlock added, and I nodded in agreement.

John looked between us both with disbelief, "Come on, you two. The door was locked from the inside; you two had to climb down the balcony."

I smiled as Sherlock passed me my own pair of latex gloves, I put them on hastily and we both crouched down beside the suitcase. He unzipped the case and flipped the lid open, when he opened it I observed the contents intently.

Clothes, Lots of Them. Enough For... Three Days I'd Say. An Indentation In The Middle.

"By the looks of it he'd been away for three days." I announced and John frowned down at me, "Going by the amount of clothes in here." I reiterated, perhaps a bit sarcastically.

Sherlock stood and gestured to the indentation in the middle of the case, "Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside."

John chortled and we both looked up at him, "Thanks- I'll take your word for it." He commented and I smiled, looking down at the floor.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked, and I raised my eyebrows at him still smiling.

"Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear." John remarked and I giggled, standing up slowly and staring at the corpse on the bed.

Sherlock moved to stand directly in front of me with his eyebrows raised, "Oh, come on. For once, John has a point." I chuckled and John glared at me, "No offence." I added smugly.

John rolled his eyes, "None taken." He replied sarcastically.

Sherlock smirked and walked to the end of the bed, "Those symbols at the bank- the graffiti. Why were they put there?"

"I don't know, you're the genius." I mumbled and unfortunately for me Sherlock heard. Word of caution: don't attempt to piss of Sherlock Holmes. He looked really scary when he glared at you, not. I giggled at his expression and shoved my hands in my jean pockets. His glare hardened and I took a breath, pulling my lips together to stop myself giggling again.

I cleared my throat, "So, what? It was some sort of code?" Sherlock's expression softened and he answered quite sharply, "Obviously." As he spoke he looked down at Van Coon's feet, possibly looking at his shoes, and then back up at his torso. His body was laid out from the right side into the middle of the bed, his head facing the door to the bedroom.

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