Y/n and Sherlock strode in the Prince residence with what they considered stereotypical journalist equipment, which solely consisted of a pen, a notepad and a camera bag. They were quite proud of themselves and their arsenal originally, thinking they had nailed it. They entered the house, getting ready for what was about to happen inside.
Nearly half an hour later, the trio dashed out, waiting to be on the street to let free their big bubbles of bustling laughter.
John chuckled delightedly as they headed towards the main road to hail a cab back, "Yes! Ooh, yes!"
Sherlock cracked a small smile, clutching the straps of the camera bag, "You think it was the cat. It wasn't the cat."
"What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It's how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant.", John demonstrated with the hopes of having finally deduced and solved a case.
"Lovely idea.", Sherlock quipped.
The blogger insisted, "No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It's a new pet – bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn't have ..."
Sherlock shook his head and arboured a small smirk, "I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it's too random and too clever for the brother."
It wasn't that idiotic to suspect the brother with all the gossip and Connies' crude behaviour towards him. But as the Fathington case, it's the people we suspect and notice the least that prove the ones behind it.
"He murdered his sister for her money.", John pressed on.
"Did he?", asked the detective rhetorically.
"Didn't he?"
Y/n decided to get John on solid ground and answered with a, "Nope. It was revenge."
"Revenge? Who wanted revenge?"
"Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister's jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. It's all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, so ...", Sherlock elucidated whilst continuing to walk fast.
John ran up to him and held up a hand meaning for Sherlock to stop. The detective did so and looked at John with bored eyes, "No, wait, wait. Wait a second. What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat's claws?"
"Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now. No, the cat doesn't come into it. Raoul's internet records do, though.", he finished, straightening out his coat, "Hope we can get a cab from here."
John grumbled, letting Sherlock walk ahead to linger a little more with Y/n. The slightly chilly air entered her lungs and she exhaled profoundly, a placid smile subtly drawn upon her s/c skin.
"Ho-how? Just how do you do it?", he asked at a loss for words and very much disappointed in not having cracked this one out.
Unpleasant memories and thoughts flashed across Y/n's mind before she shrugged and said, "I guess... practise but look at you already! I mean, that was still very good.", she encouraged him.
John nodded with a resigned look, feeling once more behind.
. 。・゜✭・.・✫゜・。.
Sherlock, John and Y/n strode into Scotland Yard's main office with the detective proudly brandishing a folder at Lestrade.
"Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince – it was botulinum toxin.", he said as he handed the folder to Lestrade, "We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself."
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SOCIOPATH'S ROMANCE // Sherlock Holmes x Reader
FanfictionY/n Baxter's life has always been full of unexpected and dangerous twists and turns. Her neighbour in 221b won't make that any different. Especially if there are sentiments involved. I don't own any of the characters, they belong to the works of Ar...
