The Problem with Chemical Defects

Chapter 1

On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, it was London after all, anything else would have been odd, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson sat in the living room of 221b, Baker Street. Mrs Hudson had made the two men some tea, repeating as she always did "I'm not your housekeeper". Everything seemed really quiet and peaceful in the cosy flat.

Watson, being all focused on his blog, did not realise his colleague and friend staring out of the window in such a focused and concentrated way that it was almost scarifying. What was he thinking about, what could have caught his attention this eagerly? Suddenly Sherlock shot out of his chair, a crazy expression on his face, causing John to jump as he had not seen it coming. "My God Sherlock, what was that for?", he shot the detective an angry look, who didn't seem too bothered by it. "We have a case!", was all he said, grinning like an idiot and running out of the flat. "Bloody hell, one day I might as well just actually kill him", was all Watson grumbled, before following after Sherlock, well knowing the much taller man would not wait for him. Heavily breathing from the sprinting, he got into a taxi where Sherlock was already waiting impatiently for him. "Hurry up a little would you!", John simply rolled his eyes and Sherlock gave the driver the address, 61 Cromwell Road, Kensington, and off they drove. "So tell me, how did you know this time?", asked John, rolling his eyes again, then turning to Sherlock, waiting for an answer. He just grinned like a five year old and continued to look out the window. John sighed and tried again, determined to get an answer: "Was it something you saw on the street? Did your tea tell you? Your violin? Honestly Sherlock, just tell me already." The detective kept grinning but after a few seconds he finally answered. "None of these my friend. Lestrade sent me a message. That's as simple as it gets." John simply nodded and decided to just keep his mouth shut for the rest of the drive through London. Watching as raindrops raced across the taxi's window, people rushing through the cold November rain, he thought of how charming his favourite city usually was but not today. It was more grey and cloudy than anything charming. Losing track of time, John soon forgot the original reason of why he was in the taxi in the first place.

"Get up sleepyhead, we've got a case to solve!", he recognised a familiar voice speaking to him as he slowly opened his eyes, remembering the case they had to solve. "I didn't really sleep or did I?", he demanded to know from Sherlock, raising an eyebrow and slowly stretching. John finally got out of the car taking a look at his environment. Everything seemed clean and tidy, the houses looked expensive and well cared for. Definitely a richer part of London.

Sherlock simply laughed "You do not expect me to answer this question of yours truthfully, do you?" Turning to the seriousness of the situation again, he instructed John to hurry up as the former military doctor was walking too slow for his impatient and intolerant attitude.
While John was still groaning something of 'knowing how to kill a man without leaving any evidence', he left the meaning of that for Sherlock's deduction skills, he followed the detective through the rain. Reaching the front door of an old, Victorian age, rather wealthy looking house, they stopped. Scotland Yard officers were positioned in front of the massive oak door. As the two men tried to enter, one of the officers stopped them. "Authorized access only", was all the tall man said in a thick Irish accent. Sherlock got himself ready for one of his typical comebacks, when Sally Donovan appeared. "It's okay, freak's with me." Sherlock deciced for it to be wiser to just relinquish on his comeback and, followed by John, silently entered the house.
Inside, they were greeted by Inspector Lestrade, who seemed severely concerned and quite pleased about Sherlock's appearance. "I'm gonna keep it short, as you're goingt to tell us everything later on anyway." He paused to dramatically roll his eyes and John passed him an understanding look. "Man, probably in his late twenties. The housekeeper found him this morning, probably strangled in his sleep. Girlfriend was with him", he continued giving the two the basic information.
John and Sherlock were just about to go and investigate, as Lestrade remembered one thing. Looking at Sherlock concerned, he spoke: "Oh and Sherlock, don't even think about it. She's still in shock so do me a favour, at least this time, and leave her the hell alone." He shot him a glance that seemed to scream "I dare you" but Sherlock wouldn't haven been Sherlock if he didn't manage to succesfully ignore that last statement. He said to John: "You take a look at the body and I talk to the girl." Before John and Lestrade could protest, Sherlock had already stormed off as he always did so dramatically.