The room was tall and there was a red wall directly opposite me that was apparently appealing to the eye, I found it distracting and vulgar. “Found anything else?” John said from behind me, I turned and smiled, he looked questioningly at me and I shrugged in reply, turning and heading to what I was presuming was the wardrobe. I had a feeling that the easiest way for me to get the trust I needed from Sherlock would be to get the doctor on my side. “Is Sherlock always this commanding over the investigation?” I asked him, sliding the door open and pausing for an answer, “No I think he’s showing off, I think that the competition between the two of you is exciting him.”
“Well that’s always good to hear.” I said very flatly, not really paying that much attention as I inspected the clothes. “There’s another woman.” I muttered the doctor looked worriedly at me, I tried to explain. “John, if you were a girl, with enough money to wallpaper a house with twenty pound notes, would you wear clothes that are too big for you?”
“I guess not.” He replied, “But how do you know that the girl downstairs wasn’t just wearing someone else’s clothes?”
“Because that woman was a size eight, the clothes in this wardrobe are all a size twelve, but a small twelve so I'm thinking tall and skinny,” I looked at the bed and picked out a dark, long hair on the cream pillow. “And the woman were looking for is a natural brunette, most likely dyed blonde, recently as well.” I added, the smell of ammonia faint in the bathroom, and a single blonde hair clung to the lid of a small bin next to the toilet. Kneeling down I searched for any signs of a wipe down, the floor was always the last place that murderers thought of for carrying genetic material, but it seemed this one was different because there was still residue of strong disinfectant, hence a definite cleaning. “What are you doing?” John asked. I was leaning over the floor, observing it from eye level, resting my weight in a press up position. Ignoring him I began a conversation to take his mind off what I was about to do. “So where did you get shot?” I asked, indicating to his leg, Sherlock had smirked when he had seen the cane in Johns hand so I was guessing it was psychosomatic. Which in turn was probably caused by an actual injury on the left side of his body, I was estimating that it was a gunshot. “Shoulder,” he said, and I stood nodding and heading back to the wardrobe.
“I never liked Afghanistan much, even before the war started.”
“Have you been?” He asked and I reached inside the cupboard and pulled out two pairs of trousers. “Not as an officer, I’m not allowed to join the army due to my… condition.” I said, he had turned away from me and was looking around the bedside table, When I was sure he wasn’t looking I fished a small pair of scissors out of my coat and cut out the inside of the right hand pocket on both pairs and placed them carefully inside the sealable bag, “Oh right…” he paused and I walked over to the other side of the bed, hanging the trousers back inside the wooden structure and joining him in searching for clues around the bed, “Wait so how did you know I served in Afghanistan?” He asked, turning to look at me, I smiled, “The cane, and you are too tanned but not above the wrists, skin around the face is rougher, hence Middle East, and-” I was about to finish when Sherlock stepped around the door.
“I thought I would find you too in the bedroom, honestly John you shouldn’t dally with the help.” John’s face turned bright red and I glared at him.
“Ah well, seems that you haven’t found anything, and your uncle says you need somewhere to stay.” He looked at me rather directly and it gave me the urge to fidget about in discomfort. I nodded and he pulled his mobile from a pocket in the lining of his trench coat. He stepped outside to make the call and I waited as John moved quietly out behind Sherlock.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock Holmes- Meet me on Waterloo (A Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction)
Fanfiction.... in a world where light is so often ignored it often means everything, after all what would life be without light. We would after all be blind.
