Sherlock and The Woman

On Holiday

The woman merely shrugged with the familiar sparkle to her eyes.r

The detective harrumphed in obvious irritation of her sudden silence. "Come on, then. The dead await!"

--

After a long drive, the crime solving duo parked and exited the rental car, stepping into the small, picturesque village in the countryside. As Sherlock walked round to the passenger side, he beamed down at his companion.

"This is fun, isn't it? A woman murdered with mysterious markings on her body. This will be a nut to crack!"

Irene eyed the man walking beside her with an amused grin on her thin lips. "You really find this more exciting than sex, don't you?"

Sherlock snorted. "Not even a competition."

Ahead of them, lay a small cabin with white, stone walls and billowing ivy growing up the south facade. As they came closer, Greg exited the house and strode over to meet them. The gentle policeman offered his friends a wide smile. "Morning, Sherlock, Irene."

"Lestrade," the detective greeted and frowned down at the DI. "You look happy today. I thought I was the only one who was cheered up by a good death."

"Yeah, well, it's not that. I bought a lottery ticket yesterday. I think this might be my lucky day!"

Sherlock threw the man a condescending glare. "Honestly, Lestrade. I thought higher of you."

"What, you don't ever buy lottery tickets?" Greg frowned back. "Not even with your... talent?"

"It's all nonsense. Do you realize the chances of you dying on your way to buy a lottery ticket is greater than the chances of you actually winning? At least it is for the average person."

"… I know now." The police turned to the woman and muttered, "Wish I hadn't asked… Hey, Molly sends her best to you, Irene! Said she hoped you did good on your 'first day'. Remember, if you get sick from seeing the body, you leave the room at once, you hear? No contaminating the crime scene. And if anyone asks, you're Sherlock's accomplice."

"What? Like a second detective consultant?" the tall man asked with a great lack of enthusiasm and shook his head. He looked like a furious child as he glared at the police man. "No, that won't do. She hasn't earned that title. It's mine."

"Can't I be referred to as a specialist?" Irene offered diplomatically. "What's the manner of this death?"

"Well, eh, it seems the victim died during what appears to be an elaborate... recreational act."

Irene smirked up at the two men with obvious enthusiasm. "Ah, well, gents. There you have it then."

Lestrade frowned down at her but refrained from commenting while the detective exhaled in amusement. The DI excused himself to make a call just a few seconds before Anderson exited the building, spotted Sherlock and grudgingly walked over.

"Oh look, it's the freak," the bearded scientist greeted with a grimace and then noticed the mysterious woman by his side. "Who's this?"

"She's with me," Sherlock said in a short, dull tone.

Anderson nodded in disgust. "I see. The freak's girlfriend then? Like Frankenstein's bride?"

Sherlock felt, rather than saw, Irene tense by his side from the comment thrown in her face. John had guessed right, this meeting could only be fun to observe. Thankfully, the man now had a front row seat to enjoy the circus act. The woman took one slow step towards the short man, and in such a simple move demanded his entire attention. Anderson seemed to smell danger in the air, for he visibly shrank before Sherlock's keen eyes as Irene moved in for the kill.