I stood at the scene at 8:50 AM, analyzing everything I could. The body was still there, and, leaning over it, I saw that whatever Moriarty did, he did it thoroughly, the poor girl was practically skinned. How anyone could think her husband could do this was beyond me. There were obvious knife wounds, and bullet holes, but there were more. Some that I just... Can't say without wanting to vomit. I shook my head, and stood up, the knees of my black skinny jeans stained with the girls blood, trying not to get my black Converse stained. From the ID she had in her pocket, I found out her name was Ayden Shane, she was 21, and she was a librarian. She was married, the silver ring on her finger proved it. She was quite pretty in the picture, her hair was long and brown, and her brown eyes were very bright. But her body was mangled and skinless in some areas.
I was interrupted from my thoughts by footsteps. My hand flew to the gun at my side.
Two men walked up. One was short, with blonde hair, and blue eyes, he was wearing a cream colored jumper under a leather jacket. The other was tall, his curly black hair looked almost ginger in the sunlight, his light blue eyes complimented his pale skin nicely. He wore a long black coat, a purple scarf tied around his neck. I knew exactly who he was as soon as I saw him. That was Sherlock.
The cold metal of the necklace burned against the back of my neck.
His eyes flicked up and down my body, but no sign of recognition crossed his thin face.
"Oh, hello." The blonde man who I assumed to be John said. "You must be Inspector Allen." He held out his hand, smiling kindly.
"Riley." I said, shaking his hand. "And I assume you're Dr Watson?"
"Yes, very nice to meet you."
I looked to Sherlock, who was examining Ayden's body. "And this must be the famous Sherlock Holmes."
John sighed. "He's not exactly a social man."
"John," Sherlock said, "I need you to examine the injuries."
He nodded, and walked over to the body. Then Sherlock came and stood next to me. "So," I said calmly, "you're the great Sherlock Holmes." I looked up at him and smirked slightly.
His eyes were bright, and shining with a sort of... Well, lets call it... Fascination. "Yes. And you are the girl Lestrade has been going on and on about?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Am I?"
"That all depends on who you are, and from the conversation you had with John a moment ago, I'd say you are."
"I've heard a lot about you." I said casually. "Some people say you're a psychopath."
He sighed. "I am not a psychopath, I'm a high-functioning sociopath."
I laughed. "Fair enough. At least you think highly of yourself."
"So, what do you think of me?"
"Well, personally, from what I've read, I think you're brilliant."
He smirked slightly.
"Why do you want to know?" I asked, he didn't usually like talking about things like this. But things change over many years, and frankly, he was very different now then when I knew him.
He was about to answer, when John came up to us. "Well," he said, "she's beat up pretty badly. She was stabbed, shot, beaten." He sighed. "Why he would do all this to a poor girl..."
"He wanted to get my attention." Sherlock said. "To let me know for certain that he's back."
Hey! So this is unbelievably short, but I hope it's still good.
And oh my God, over 100 reads! Thank you guys so much, frankly I was excited when I got seven. So thank you!!!!
There will be more as soon as I can get it up, and I hope you like it.
Thanks!
~Cas
