The Sting of a Thousand Bees

The cuts hidden beneath

"Well, obviously it's the blonde highlighted brunette in the crowd over there that did it." His voice sharp with boredom, the words running off his tongue in an uncaring manner, like he wasn't sentencing someone to a lifetime in jail.

"And how did you come to that conclusion." Detective Lestrade the captain of the police force spoke. His voice gruffer and more authoritative tone, though not quite questioning the man before him, more wondering how the man came to this conclusion.

I saw Sherlock, the man who had just spewed out who the murder was, smile. He quickly snapped back around, his coat snapping in the wind as he turned towards the body. Dropping to the ground balancing on the top of his toes, his actions almost deafening silence. He lifts up his gloved hand, the black leather gloves thick as he pulls on the suit of the dead man lying on the ground. The dark black and blue bruises are now more noticeable with the fabric pulled back. He tilts his head back to Lestrade.

"You can see here." He used his gloved hand to point at a spot where the skin had been torn, a shape similar to a crescent moon. "This shows they couldn't have blunt nails, they would never be able to make these wounds, and seeing from how deep these wounds are, they had to have long nails." He glanced back down at the body, now slightly leaning over the body, shifting on his feet to get a better look at the wounds. "The longer the nails, the more fragile they are, which means their nails most likely broke during the strangling." I saw Lestrade nod in agreement his dark brown eyes shift as he looked across the neck of the victim, you could see the wheels turning in his brain, wondering why he didn't figure that out.

"You can see little bits of pieces of pink nail polish crusting along with the wounds." His voice pierced through the silence as he shifted, closing his gloves around something.

He opened his palm showing the pink speck that was standing out against the black leather of his gloves before pinching it together and dropping it to the ground. He brushed off his hands, most likely to get the remainder of the pink specks off his gloves, as he brings himself up to a standing position his hands at his side as he turns his body around to face us again. He glanced at me before turning his gaze back to the detective, his eyes hinting his slight annoyance that he has to repeat himself.

"Now, who appears to have chipped nails, and pink nail polish that appears to be peeling off?" His face pulled into a smile knowing that he had enough evidence to arrest the person in question. "The blonde highlighted brunette in the crowd out there."

"Fantastic," I mumbled out in awe, it always amazes me how quickly he can solve cases that the police had to call him to solve. No matter how many times I see it, it never fails to amaze me.

"And why would they wait in the crowd?" Lestrade questioned as he ran a hand through his short grey hair, already giving a hand signal to the police to go after the suspect in question.

"Why do you think?" His voice came out like a snarky snort, being annoyed at having to explain at least to him was 'obvious'. "To avoid suspicion." His tone spoke of an eye roll despite not actually rolling his eyes. "If you stand in the crowd, trying to figure out what happened, you seem less suspicious." He rolled his eyes, believing this 'uninteresting' case was dragging on for far too long. Believing that staying here was a useless waste of time, I could sense this, and in order to defuse this situation, I used what was every genius's weakness was. Recognition.

"Well, they clearly can't fool you." I saw his coat flow behind him as he turned and started to walk off briskly, I fought to catch up with him, being shorter in stature, as we started walking away from the crime scene, already hearing the police shouting as the women tried to run before eventually being pushed down to the ground and handcuffed.