The Baker Street Brothers

Chapter Three

Enzo watches as Sherlock and John walk over to the body, Sherlock squatting down on one side as John painfully lowers himself on one knee "Well?" Sherlock asks. "What am I doing here?" John asks, leaning on his cane. "Helping us make a point." Sherlock tells him. "I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent." John retorts, giving him a look. "Yeah, well, this is more fun."  Sherlock responds. "Fun? There's a woman lying dead." John points out. "Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper." Sherlock tells him. Lestrade walks back into the room as John drags his other leg down into a kneeling position, leaning forward to look more closely at the woman's body. He puts his head close to hers and sniffs before straightening "Yeah ... Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs." he tells them. "You know what it was. You've read the papers." Enzo tells him, leaning against the wall. "What, she's one of the suicides? The fourth...?" John asks. "Enzo, Sherlock. Two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got." Lestrade tells the brothers.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase." Sherlock starts. "Suitcase?" Lestrade asks. "Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married." Enzo continues. "Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up-" Lestrade starts. "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside, that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple." Enzo explains, motioning to the jewellery. "That's brilliant. Sorry." John says, as Sherlock and Enzo look at him. "Cardiff?" Lestrade asks. "It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock tells them. "It's not obvious to me." John pipes up.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring. Her coat: it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind, too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff." Sherlock explains, showing his phone to John and Lestrade. "That's fantastic!" John tells them. "D'you know you do that out loud?" Sherlock asks him quietly. "Sorry. I'll shut up." John says slightly embarrassed. "No, it's... fine." Enzo tells him. "Why d'you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asks. "Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is." Sherlock responds. "She was writing 'Rachel'?" Lestrade asks. "No, she was leaving an angry note in German!" Enzo tells him sarcastically. "Of course she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be. Question is: why did she wait until she was dying to write it?" Sherlock asks.

"How d'you know she had a suitcase?" Lestrade asks them. Enzo points at a few small black splotches on the lower part of the woman's right leg "Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night. Now, where is it? What have you done with it?" Enzo asks, crouching down to look at the splatter marks. "There wasn't a case." Lestrade tells them. Sherlock and Enzo both look at him with a frown "Say that again." Sherlock tells him. "There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase." Lestrade tells the brothers. Sherlock runs out to the landing "Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?" he shouts. Enzo follows, following his brother down the stairs "Sherlock, Enzo, there was no case!" Lestrade shouts after them, he and John going onto the landing. "But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock responds.

"Right, yeah, thanks! And...?" Lestrade asks. "It's murder, all of them. We don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings, serial killings." Enzo explains. "We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to." Sherlock smiles. "Why are you saying that?" Lestrade asks them. "Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?! Someone else was here, and they took her case. So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car." Enzo explains. "She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there." John suggests. "No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking..." Sherlock trails off. "Oh. Oh!" Enzo exclaims, realising the same thing as his brother. "Sherlock? Enzo?" John asks. "What is it, what?" Lestrade asks. "Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake." Sherlock explains. "We can't just wait!" Lestrade exclaims. "Oh, we're done waiting! Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" Sherlock tells them as he and Enzo's and run down the rest of the stairs. "Of course, yeah, but what mistake?!" Lestrade shouts after them. Enzo runs back to the bottom of the stairs "PINK!" he shouts, running after his brother.