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Ivy Liu takes a slow drag of her cigarette, watching Sherlock with those sharp, unblinking eyes that seem to s...
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Psychopaths get bored
Sherlock's eyes gleamed with excitement, his hands raised in front of his face like a child on Christmas morning. "It's murder. All of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides—they're killings. Serial killings."
Ivy, standing by the railing with her arms crossed, tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a small, sarcastic smile. "I take it this is your version of a birthday surprise?" she quipped, her tone dry as usual.
Sherlock ignored her as he continued, clearly delighted with his realisation. "We've got ourselves a serial killer," he announced, grinning. "I love those. There's always something to look forward to."
Lestrade frowned in confusion, unable to keep up with Sherlock's rapid deductions. "Why are you saying that?"
Sherlock, already halfway down the stairs, suddenly stopped and called back, "Her case! Come on, where's her case? Did she eat it?!" His tone was dripping with impatience. "Someone else was here, and they took her case. The killer must have driven her here and forgot the case was still in the car."
John, standing next to Ivy at the top of the stairs, blinked. "She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there."
Sherlock shook his head, his eyes scanning the scene once more. "No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and shoes. She wouldn't have left any hotel with her hair looking like that."
Ivy raised an eyebrow and glanced at John. "You know," she said in a low voice, "I'm genuinely impressed that he notices more about women's fashion than I do."
Sherlock barely paused, his focus intensifying. "Exactly," he said, still as if to himself. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened in realisation. "Oh," he murmured. His face lit up with a delighted smile.
Lestrade leaned over the railing, his patience clearly wearing thin. "What is it, what?"
Sherlock clapped his hands together in excitement. "Serial killers are always hard," he said with a grin. "You have to wait for them to make a mistake."
Lestrade threw his hands up in frustration. "We can't just wait!"
"Oh, we're done waiting," Sherlock declared, already moving down the stairs again. "Look at her. Really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get onto Cardiff. Find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!"
He vanished from view, leaving everyone else standing in confusion on the landing. Lestrade, still baffled, called after him, "Of course, yeah—but what mistake?!"
Sherlock reappeared briefly, popping his head around the staircase to shout, "PINK!" before disappearing again.
Ivy sighed, watching him go. "Brilliant deduction. The suitcase is pink," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Revolutionary."
