12:49 pm:
The official time of death of your husband. You left for twenty minutes to get some munchies for movie night and when you got back he was on the floor.
"(Ms.y/n)"
"(Ms.Y/N??)
You snapped out of your dazed trance and looked at the detective.
"Please its still Mrs.."
"(Mrs.y/n) what exactly happened?" The detective spoke in an impatient, stern tone.
"We had decided to have a movie night and I went to the market to get popcorn and wine...when I came back he was on the floor in a pool o-of his own b-blood.." you finally managed to choke out through your tears.
" I see.." He took out a small magnifying glass from his coat pocket and began looking around. He mumbled things to himself as he worked.
"Did you leave anything unlocked or open?"
"Uh..yes the um...window upstairs. I spilled a bottle of perfume and needed to air out the room."
The detective jumped up and ran towards the stairs. You followed closely behind and found him searching the room.
"Well...?"you whispered.
"This is odd. There are foot prints on the wall. Barely visible, but they're there."
"So they got in through the window...oh my god....this is my fault. If I hadn't spilled the perfume and opened the window no one could have had the chance to..."
You were cut off by the detectives hands at your shoulders. He crouched down to look at you.
"(Y/n) this isn't your fault. You couldn't have anticipated it. No one could..except me of course," he smiled a cheesy grin at you.
"Thank you Mr.Holmes," you choked while wiping away tears.
He handed you a tissue.
"Please...call me Sherlock."
