"captive." Sherlock mumbled to himself, trailing a hovering hand from her wrist up to her neck, glaring at her chart simultaneously. John's eyes flickered from the Jane to Sherlock and furrowed his brows "captive?- and what are the chances they would just let her go?" He crossed his arms, observing the scene of Sherlock matching old injuries from paper to skin. "None. She wasn't meant to survive." The detective pulled his hand away from her, letting the hair fall back over her throat. "her toxicology report suggests a just less than lethal dose of arsenic..someone was being sloppy." He sneered, leaning down to Inspect her closer. Arms, fingers...toes. Sherlock was no amateur, he had extensive experience with the identification of track marks and just where to hide them. "mithridatism.." clever girl. "That would have been.." "Very unpleasant, yes." Isaac Asimov wrote: "In life, unlike chess, the game continues after checkmate."