For most of the taxi ride, the three of them sat in silence. Sherlock sat at the left side of the car, Anita in the middle, and John sat to the right. Anita had her head pressed back against her headrest, just waiting to get to the crime scene. She wasn't very patient and hated waiting. Though both Anita and Sherlock couldn't ignore John's constant glances at them. Finally, Sherlock lowered his phone.
"Okay, you've got questions," Sherlock acknowledged, leaning forward slightly to look around Anita. John leaned forward a little bit on his side as well.
"Yeah, where are we going?" John asked. Anita could answer this question, so she did.
"Crime scene. Next?" Anita couldn't stop the small smirk crossing her lips. She still kept her head leaned back but was now paying attention to what was happening.
"Who are you two?" John started, but then another question came to his head and he looked over at Sherlock.
"And what do you do?"
"What do you think?" Sherlock liked to make people work for information about him. Anita learned that the hard way. It took her two years and hacking into the British Government to find out Sherlock's full name.
"I'd say private detective..." John answered, playing along with Sherlock's game.
"But?" Anita mentioned, leaning forward to become a part of the conversation. She just wanted to nudge John along in the right direction.
"But the police don't go to private detectives. Or even work with them," John answered, glancing between both Sherlock and Anita.
"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job," Sherlock answered smuggly. Anita rolled her eyes at him in a joking manner. He loved to brag about the fact that created the job.
"What does that mean?" John replied.
"It means when the police are out of their depth, which I hate to say is always, they consult him," Anita answered for Sherlock. She really did hate how often the police were bad at their jobs. Without Sherlock, London would be overflowing with serial killers. Though she would never tell him that.
"But the police don't consult amateurs," John noted. Anita nodded, proving that John was correct about that.
"When I met you for the first time, yesterday, I said 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' You seemed surprised," Sherlock mentioned, looking over at John in a sort of challenging kind of way.
"Yes, how did you know that?" John questioned, actually curious as to how he did.
"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart's, so Army Doctor- obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrist. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstance of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan- Afghanistan or Iraq," Sherlock deducted, though to Anita it felt like a rant, but that's because his brain moves too fast for Anita.
"You said I had a therapist," John noted. Anita's eyebrows furrowed at this. That was what he felt needed noting? Oh well.
"You've got a psychosomatic limp- of course you've got a therapist," Anita answered, she didn't even need Sherlocks help to figure that out. John nodded, realizing how much sense that made. Sherlock looked at Anita, signaling for her to take over. Anita smiled at this then turned to John.
"Then there's your brother." John looked over at Anita confused. He didn't think she was like Sherlock. Anita smiled but continued on. She held her hand out, silently asking for his phone. John pulled it out of his pocket and put it in her hand. Anita didn't open it to send a text like Sherlock had the day before, instead she flipped it around in her hand.
"Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare- you wouldn't waste money on this. So, it's a gift then. Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already," Anita stated glancing at Sherlock, checking to make sure she got it right, then she turned to John.
"The engraving," John mumbled, watching as Anita rubbed her finger over the engraving.
Harry Watson
From Clara
xxx
"Harry Watson; clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is." Anita was on roll. Nine out of ten times, she would have gotten something wrong by now. But Anita felt that was enough deductions for her, so she handed the phone to Sherlock and let him take it from there.
"Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently- this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then-six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him. He would have kept it. People do-sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you; That says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help; that says you've got a problem with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his drinking," Sherlock observed, looking up from the mobile phone to look at John, then Anita.
"How can you possibly know about the drinking?" John asked Sherlock.
"Shot in the dark," Anita answered, knowing that it was an educated guess by Sherlock.
"Good one, though," Sherlock bragged.
"Power connection; tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them." Sherlock finally hands the phone back to John. Sherlock had to reach around Anita and his arm just brushed against her shoulder, but it was enough to cause his ears to tint a shade pink.
"There you go, you see- you were right," Anita assured, looking at John with a smile.
"I was right? Right about what?" John questioned.
"The police don't consult amateurs," Sherlock stated, glancing out the window to look at their surroundings. John was still somewhat in shock as to what had just happened.
"That was...amazing!" John exclaimed, and now it was Anita and Sherlock's turn to be shocked. They made quick eye contact before turning back to John.
"Do you think so?" Anita questioned, not quite believing that he meant it.
"Of course it was. It was extraordinary, quite extraordinary," John said, then he turned to Anita. She did a lot of things that he wasn't exactly expecting.
"I see why he keeps you around." Anita chuckled at this, a smirk forming on her face.
"That's not what people normally say," Sherlock chimed in, once again glancing out the window.
"What do people normally say?" John asked, curious as to what people could say other than compliment the duo.
"Piss off," Sherlock and Anita answered in unison.
Soon after the conversation ended, the trio arrived at Lauriston Gardens. As soon as they got out of the cab, they started to walk towards the crime scene. Anita had started rummaging through her pockets, looking for her police badge.
"Did we get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked John. Anita let out snort. She barely did anything, just the easy part. Sherlock turned to Anita at the noise she made, but she shooed him off with her hand.
"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce and Harry is a drinker," John answered, walking confidently with Sherlock and Anita, who had finally found her badge and was checking to make sure it was clean and such.
"Spot on, then," Anita said, briefly looking up at John and Sherlock.
"Didn't expect to be right about everything," Sherlock bragged smugly. He elbowed Anita slightly and caused her to smirk with him.
"And Harry's short for Harriet," John finished. Sherlock stopped in his tracks and had a blank stare on his face. Anita snapped her fingers on her right hand and swung it forward slightly, letting out a huff of air. Anita and John walked a few steps before turning to look and wait for him.
"Harry's your sister," Sherlock noted, now releasing how obvious it was.
"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" John asked, but he didn't stop walking yet. Sherlock was still caught up on the fact that John had a sister instead of a brother.
"Sister!" Sherlock jeered, gritting his teeth in the process. Anita had pulled ahead of the group and was ready to flash her badge to get entrance to the crime scene.
"No, seriously, what am I doing here?" John tried once more to get either Sherlock or Anita's attention.
"There's always something," Anita murmured just loud enough for the boys to hear her. Finally, the trio had reached the police tap and there waiting for them was Sally Donovan.
"Hello Freak," Sally said, looking directly at Sherlock. Anita cleared her throat and Sally quickly turned to her and stood a little straighter.
"Detective Inspector I-" Sally tried to recover and get on Anita's good side again but Anita quickly cut her off.
"Save it, Donovan," Anita demanded, lifting up the police tape and walking through. Sherlock and John waited a bit, not feeling like they were allowed just yet.
"We're here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade," Sherlock said, though his chest was still recovering from the weird feeling in it. As soon as Anita defended him, the feeling hit him like a train. Maybe he needed to go to the hospital or something. He might even ask John about it later; he was a medical man.
"Why?" Sally challenged, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock, then at Anita.
"He was invited, not only by Lestrade but also me. I am your superior, keep that in mind Sally," Anita argued, determined to get Sherlock and John past the yellow police tape. Sally rolled her eyes, but knew she could get fired if she did much more.
"Why was he invited?" She asked, again.
"I think he wants me to take a look," Sherlock answered, the sarcasm almost palatable. Sherlock ducked under the tape, just like Anita did previous.
"Well, you know what I think, don't you?" Sally sassed.
"Always, Sally," Sherlock replied, but glanced at Anita, giving her the perfect ammunition to absolutely ruin Sally's night. Anita smirked at this and turned to Sally.
"I know you didn't make it home last night," Anita said cheekily. Sally was about to respond before she saw John standing at the tape.
"Who's this?" Sally asked, gesturing at John.
"Colleague of ours," Sherlock answered. Anita felt it was her job to do introductions.
"Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend," Anita announced, putting a special emphasis on the word 'sergeant' to remind Sally where she stood. Anita really wasn't one to pull rank on many people but when it came to Sherlock, she felt like she had too. She had been fighting off the bullies since they were in university and she didn't plan on stopping anytime soon.
"A colleague? How did you two get a colleague?" Sally sneered, a sarcastic laugh coming out of her mouth. Then she turned to John.
"Did they follow you home?" Sally chuckled out. Both Sherlock and Anita rolled their eyes at this.
"Would it be better if I just waited and-" John tried to say but was quickly shut up by Sherlock lifting the tape up again and Anita talking over him.
"No!" Anita insisted, almost pleading John to come with them. John finally agreed and walked under the tape as Donovan lifted a radio to her lips.
"The Freak is here. Bringing them in." Anita coughed loudly while Sally had tried to insult Sherlock again. Sally just rolled her eyes and carried on. Since the group of three were walking behind Sally, it gave Anita the perfect opportunity to stick her tongue out at Donovan's back. Once she did it, she was very satisfied. Sally had led them to a house and just as they reached the pavement, a man in coveralls walked out of the house.
"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again," Sherlock said to the man who just walked out of the house. Anderson looked between Sherlock and Anita in disgust.
"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" Anderson growled, almost tempted to get in their faces, but was quick to remember Anita was his superior and that would surely get him fired. Anita raised an eyebrow at the snarky tone but didn't say anything.
"Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?" Sherlock asked. Anita knew where he was going with the question and smirked.
"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that," Anderson sneered at Sherlock.
"Your deodorant told him that," Anita chimed in, taking a small step forward.
"My deodorant?" Anderson asked.
"It's for men," Anita explained, somewhat bored with how slow he was being. Anita figured that this must be what Sherlock felt like all of the time.
"Well of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!" He exclaimed, clearly frustrated and confused by the whole conversation. Sherlock took this as a sign to step in.
"So's Donovan," Sherlock observed. Anderson looked behind himself at Sally, then turned back to Anita and Sherlock. Sherlock then made a point to sniff the air.
"Ooh, and I think it just vaporized. May we go in?" Sherlock asked as Anderson pointed at Sherlock and Anita testily.
"Now look, whatever you're trying to imply-" Anderson started, trying to defend himself and Donovan, but was cut off by Anita.
"I'm not implying anything," Anita answered, once again walking backwards towards a door, which Sherlock and John had already walked through, though they were waiting for her.
"We're sure Sally came around for a nice chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees," Anita snickered while she turned around and walked through the door, leaving a shocked and devastated Donovan and Anderson in her wake. Once inside, Sherlock was quick to her side.
"Well done," he whispered into her ear, which he had to lean down to do. Anita giggled at this and sent a small 'thank you' his way. Anita had to be honest though. She loved the way his breath felt on her neck and ear. Lestrade was by a table pulling on his own pair of coveralls when the small group approached. Anita turned to John, who was standing to her left, and pointed to another pair of coveralls.
"You need to wear one of these," Anita told John, smiling softly and encouragingly at him. John nodded and headed over to the table and picked one up. Lestrade looked at John then turned to Sherlock and Anita.
"Who's this?" Lestrade questioned.
"He's with us," Sherlock replied as both he and Anita took off their gloves and put on rubber ones.
"But who is he?" Lestrade pressed, hoping for an actual answer this time.
"I said he's with us," Sherlock snapped at him.
Lestrade stared at them for a moment then continued to pull up his coveralls. John looked Sherlock and Anita up and down and realized they were missing something.
"Aren't you two gonna put one on?" John asked, gesturing towards the remaining coveralls, but Anita and Sherlock turned to shoot him a stern look then went back to putting on the rubber gloves.
"So where are we?" Anita asked Lestrade.
"Upstairs," he answered.
Lestrade led Anita and the boys up the stairs and started talking while doing so.
"I can give you two minutes," Lestrade explained.
"May need longer," Sherlock replied, casually.
"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her," Lestrade informed the group of the known details. Anita winced at the last sentence, those poor kids probably just wanted to have fun but instead found a dead body. Sherlock glanced at Anita but once again she waved him off.
After two flights of stairs, Lestrade finally led Anita and the boys to a room, where in the middle laid a dead woman's body. Anita was shocked by her clothing choice. It was a nice shade, but it made up her entire wardrobe. The lady's hands were on either side of her head, palms down. After walking into the room, everyone stood in silence for a while. Then Sherlock looked at Lestrade.
"Shut up," Sherlock said, seemingly without reason.
"I didn't say anything," Lestrade responded, startled.
"You were thinking. It's annoying," Sherlock stated as he step towards the side of the corpse.
Sherlock's attention was quickly drawn to something. He waved a hand at Anita, who walked softly over to him. She was kneeling next to the thing he had pointed out to her. Near Jennifer Wilson's hand was the word 'Rache'. Anita's eyes then went to her fingernails' where the index and middle fingernails were broken and ragged at the edges.
Her index finger was resting near the bottom of the 'e', almost as if she was still carving into the floor when she had passed away. Anita glanced at Sherlock to see him staring intensely at the word. Anita had a sneaky feeling that Sherlock was making a deduction in his head, which she got from the way he dismissively shook his head slightly as though throwing an idea out. Anita looked through her mental dictionary and saw that Rache meant revenge in German, but chances of a dying woman writing, no carving, revenge in the floors were slim to none. Anita couldn't quite figure out what the word could be but knew that Sherlock did, so she didn't need to.
Sherlock leaned closer to the body and ran his gloved hand down the back of the woman's coat. He lifted his hand and rubbed his fingers together, showing that they were wet. Anita reached into Jennifer Wilson's pocket and pulled out a small, white, folding umbrella. Anita pulled it out and wiped her fingers down it and found it wasn't wet. She looked up at Sherlock and shook her head. While Anita was putting the umbrella back into the lady's pocket, Sherlock had run his finger underneath the collar of her coat and noted that it was also wet.
Then Sherlock pulled out his small magnifier, clicked it open, and took a closer look at the gold jewelry that Jennifer Wilson was wearing and noticed they were all kept clean and neat. Anita had moved to grab the dead women's left hand. She had noticed the contrast between the different pieces of jewelry. The wedding ring was clearly not as cleaned and taken care of as the other jewelry. That explained the marriage status pretty easily; bad. The marriage had started to fall apart ten or more years ago.
Anita shoved Sherlock softly to get his attention. He turned to her and worked the ring off of her finger. Sherlock held it up for both of them to see the inside of the ring. The inside was extremely shiny compared to the outside. So it was worked off a lot. Anita looked over at Sherlock before coming to the decision that she was a serial adulterer.
"Got anything?" Lestrade asked the two.
"Not much," Sherlock said, to which Anita rolled her eyes. 'Not much' meant basically everything. Sherlock stood up and held a hand out for Anita. She smiled, took it, and allowed him to help her up. Then Sherlock took off his gloves and began to type on his phone. In that moment Anderson walked up and leaned against the doorframe.
"She's German. 'Rache' It's German for Revenge. She could be trying to tell us something-" Anderson was quickly interrupted by Sherlock slamming the door in his face.
"Yes, thank you for your input," Sherlock said to the closed door, sarcastically. He did all of this without looking up from his phone.
"So she's German?" Lestrade asked Sherlock.
"No she's not German. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night before returning home to Cardiff," Sherlock observed and finally got off his phone and put it back in it's rightful pocket.
"So far, so obvious," Sherlock continued.
"Sorry-obvious?" John questioned, slightly confused.
"What about the message, though?" Lestrade tried to reason, but both Sherlock and Anita ignored him and instead turned to John.
"Doctor Watson, what do you think?" Anita asked, gesturing with her left hand for John to look over at the body.
"Of the message?" he asked.
"Of the body. You're a medical man," Anita explained. Lestrade was quick to interrupt though.
"Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside," Lestrade tried, but knew that no one was going to follow his advice.
"They won't work with him," Anita said once again, moving her head in Sherlock's direction.
"You know I'm breaking every rule letting him in here, O'Malley," Lestrade bargained.
"Yes, because you need him, Lestrade," Anita argued, but her soft smile showed that she meant no harm in it.
Lestrade took a moment before mumbling, "Yes, I do. God help me."
"Doctor Watson," Sherlock addressed John. John looked at the body then turned to Lestrade, just making sure he actually could. Lestrade sighed but nodded his head.
"Oh, do as they say. Help yourself," Lestrade said, a light wave of anger in his voice. Anita made sure to say a small 'thank you' to him before heading over to the boys by the body. Lestrade turned and opened the door to shout at the team outside the room.
"Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple minutes!" Lestrade yelled over the banister.
The boys and Anita walked over to the body. John had kneeled down on one knee, clearly in pain, on Jennifer Wilson's right side while Sherlock and Anita were squatting on her left. Anita noted that John had been in pain when he kneeled down and reminded herself to help him up later.
"Well?" Anita asked, expecting a medical explanation, though everyone in the room knew how she died.
"What am I doing here?" John whispered over to Sherlock.
"Helping us prove a point," Sherlock whispered back.
"I'm supposed to be helping you pay rent," John replied softly.
"Yeah, well, this is more fun," Sherlock suggested.
"Fun? There's a woman lying dead," John sassed, looked astounded at what Sherlock just said.
"Perfectly sound analysis, but we were hoping you'd go deeper," Anita chimed in.
"Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs," John explained.
"You know what it was. You've read the papers," Anita said, trying to push John along into the point.
"What, she's one of the suicides? The fourth...?" John asked, looking between Sherlock and Anita.
"Sherlock, Anita- two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got," Lestrade demanded. Sherlock stood up and walked over to Lestrade while Anita walked around the dead body to help John up. He sent her an appreciative smile and she returned it.
"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, intended to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase," Sherlock explained in his common rant style.
"Suitcase?" Lestrade questioned.
"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," Sherlock continued, borderline ignoring Lestrade.
"Oh for God's sake, if you're just making this up-" Lestrade barked angrily. Anita took a step forward.
"Her wedding ring. Ten years old, at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not on her wedding ring. State of the 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 ring 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," Anita explained and finished with a bright smile. Sherlock did a little hum to show she was in fact correct; which just brightened her smile.
"That's brilliant!" John cheered and Anita turned and nodded at him.
"Cardiff?" Lestrade asked.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock asked, taking over.
"It's not obvious to me," John chimed in. Sherlock and Anita turned to each other then turned to glance between John and Lestrade.
"Dear God, What's it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring," Sherlock sneered rudely, "Her coats: it's 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 for her to use an 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 traveled more than two or three hours because her coat is still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that time? Cardiff," Sherlock noted, holding his phone out for Lestrade to see the weather display of the southern part of Britain.
"That's fantastic!" John gushed. Sherlock turned to him.
"D'you know you do that out loud?" Sherlock asked in a low voice.
"Sorry, I'll shut up," John responded.
"No, It's fine," Anita said for both her and Sherlock, both of them greatly appreciating the praise they rarely got unless it was from each other.
"Why d'you keep saying suitcase?" asked Lestrade.
"Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is," Sherlock said, searching around the room trying to find the suitcase.
"She was writing Rachel?" Lestrade questioned.
"No, She was leaving an angry note in German! 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?" Anita said, mainly aiming her question at Sherlock.
"How d'you know she had a suitcase?" Lestrade questioned. Sherlock turned and pointed at the body.
"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, women this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bad, so we know she was staying one night," Sherlock explained, still looking for the suitcase.
"Now where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock asked impatiently. Anita was also curious where the case could be. If it was at the scene then it would still be there and Lestrade wouldn't be so confused.
"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase," Lestrade stated, again. Sherlock ran to the banister and started yelling at the team asking them if they had seen a suitcase. Anita had a feeling she knew where this was going and didn't like it. Quickly, she pulled out her wallet and handed John a sizable amount of cash. He was about to ask why but she was talking over him.
"You cannot understand how truly sorry I am for what's about to happen. That should be enough money for a cab... Well anywhere. Again, so sorry." John was very confused by this whole interaction but his attention was drawn back to Lestrade and Sherlock.
"Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade shouted at Sherlock.
"But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them," Sherlock yelled as he ran down the stairs with Anita in tow.
"Right, yeah, Thanks! And-?" Lestrade asked as Anita and Sherlock continued down the stairs but stopped on a small landing to yell back.
"It's a murder, all of them. We don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings- serial killings," Anita yelled up the stairs. Sherlock grabbed his face with his hands in delight.
"We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to," Sherlock stated and was about to start down the stairs again when Lestrade shouted back at them.
"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade shouted, leaning over the banister slightly.
"Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Someone else was here and they took her case," Anita yelled back, trying to clue Lestrade in as much as she could. Sherlock turned to Anita.
"So the killer must have driven her here and forgot the case was in the car," Sherlock mumbled to Anita, to which she nodded in agreement.
"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there," John said, trying to reason with them.
"No she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She color coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking-" Anita had been saying but only to get interrupted by Sherlock.
"Oh." Anita turned to him waiting for him to explain. She was smart, but she wasn't 'Sherlock' smart. He looked at her, a smile growing on his face but she was still confused. Then, it clicked.
"Oh!" Anita said, a small chuckle leaving her lips.
"Anita? Sherlock?" John tried to get their attention.
"What is it, what?" Lestrade pried, trying to get the full story.
"Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake," Sherlock yelled up to Lestrade.
"We can't just wait!" Lestrade shouted, worried about the lives that would be lost if they just waited around.
"Oh, we're done waiting Lestrade!" Anita yelled up a bright smile forming. Then Sherlock grabbed her arm and started to run down the remaining stairs.
"Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake," Sherlock yelled but continued trekking on.
"Get on to Cardiff: Find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" Anita yelled the standard police procedure up at Lestrade.
"Of course, yeah- But what mistake?" Lestrade called after the duo. Sherlock then dragged Anita back to the stairs.
"PINK!" Anita and Sherlock yelled in unison before running out into the night, leaving John Watson behind. And now John Watson understood the small interaction he had with Anita and he couldn't be more grateful for the girl who cared enough to leave him with money for a cab.
author's note !
Hey, guys! If anyone was wondering, I sort of mad it on the softball team! So that fun. I also dislocated my thumb at the first practice. Which is also fun. I'm okay tho! Anyways, this is the next chapter, enjoy! Quick question; what's your favorite animal? Mine's probably a manatee! They are just so cute and they just lumber about in the ocean! I would love to just float about in the ocean forever.