The Baker's Detective

| The Murder and the Sympathy |

John stops him. "Hold on, you need to help me down the stairs." So, he helps John, gets him his pain meds, a drink, and a fairly dismal breakfast (John requests that they stop somewhere and get something better on the way back). He makes an egg for Rosie and, as he's already dressed, quickly heads down to Lily's apartment and knocks on the door.

In a few moments, during which Lestrade calls him, Lily opens the door, her hair frizzy, still in her pajamas, and her mouth half full of cereal. "Oh, hello."

"Hello," Sherlock replies. "Can you come to a crime scene with me?"

She stops. "You want me to-?"

"Come to a crime scene with me, yes. John can't go, and I can't go by myself."

She looks at him for a moment, then cautiously asks, "What sort of crime scene?"

"A murder."

She grimaces, and Sherlock tries to implore her with his eyes, being reminded of the incident with Janine when he did whatever he could to get into that office — minus the proposal. Luckily, it works the second time, too. Lily relents. "Alright. I might not be of much help, but I'll go."

Sherlock smiles. He turns, about to head out to Lestrade.

"Sherlock," Lily says. "I need to get dressed first..."

He looks back and remembers that she's in pajamas. "Oh, right."

"I'll hurry. Just give me five minutes."

She actually comes back in four, her hair still a bit frizzy, but partly calmed by a headband pushing it back. She's also wearing a pair of jeans and a gray shirt, and her shoes are a sort of ankle-height boot. Good enough for a crime scene. Sherlock turns and heads out the door, and Lily follows. Lestrade is parked in the street, looking perturbed. Sherlock gets in the passenger side, and Lily gets in the back.

"Where have you been?" Lestrade asks.

"Procuring a... partner." He figured she wouldn't like being called an assistant, as people in the past haven't.

Lestrade, already driving, looks in the rearview mirror. "I- Oh, hello. I'm Greg Lestrade."

"Lily Marlow," she says with a smile.

"Oh, you're the new neighbor," Lestrade replies. "It's nice to meet you."

They make small talk on the way there, which is mostly boring, but Sherlock can't focus with their chatter, so he ends up listening. The way Lily speaks — with that laughter, the lightness in her voice — keeps his attention on what she says. Lestrade, however, is just plain boring today, and Sherlock knows everything he's saying anyway. It's sort of a relief when they arrive at Wintermere Hall.

It's grand, though less grand than Reigate, with a brighter exterior. There's a garden outside, filled with bright flowers. Lily looks delighted with it when they get out of the car. "Oh, it's beautiful out here." She goes over to a gaggle of yellow flowers. "I love these."

They move on, forcing Lily to follow, Lestrade leading the way and giving details only now.

"The victim was the gardener, William Kirwan," he says. "We're thinking the killer was a robber, as there's signs of forced entry at the back of the house. Mr. Cunningham the younger saw the whole thing, called it in at around five this morning."

Sherlock takes one look at the corpse and knows the cause of death: a gunshot wound to the chest. He likely died almost instantly. Sherlock starts looking around the body, observing the larger scene, but then he hears a choked gag.

Lily is ways behind him, and she looks sick. Sherlock isn't exactly surprised, though he is a bit shocked to find himself not annoyed — as he figured he would be — but more sympathetic. She looks more than sick. She looks sad.