Sherlock

II

I was quite surprised when Lestrade told me to follow him, and I also didn't really understand why. I followed close behind him to his office and as he sat down in the chair behind his desk, I sat down in one in front of it. Sherlock sat down next to me shortly after. 

Lestrade threw the file case towards Sherlock, "I really hope you can help us here." 

"So, we find a body in a dumpster and identify him as Mark Johnson. We find Jane Bright to be the murder and she gets convicted. Then three weeks later Jane Bright is found dead in the very same dumpster, seemingly killed by Mark Johnson," Lestrade explained. 

Sherlock's long fingers flipped through the pages and his eyes scanned photos and text alike. His facial expression stayed the same. Eyebrows drawn together, lips relaxed, eyes slightly squinted. Even as he looked at the violent crime photos he didn't even flinch. He flipped back and forth through the file as Lestrade and I sat expectantly in silence. 

When Sherlock looked up with a small smile was playing on his lips and his eyes were of a mad mans.

"So?" Lestrade asked impatiently.

"Well," Sherlock handed Lestrade one of the pictures, "note striations of the victim's left thumb." 

"What am I looking at?" Lestrade looked up from the paper.

"If I'm not mistaken, she had injected something with a syringe very recent to her death," he pointed at the picture Lestrade had now laid in the middle of the desk, "this theory is backed up by the marks on her underarm. The colour and size of the bruises suggests she injected herself with morphine. Now I can't be sure since I'm not looking at the actual body, but I'd say it was her first time, given all the bruises seems to have been made around the same time."

"Why would she take a shot of morphine right before her death?" Lestrade asked.

"So she wouldn't feel the cuts, right?" I asked and looked up at Sherlock.

"She wasn't killed by Mark Johnson, she was killed by herself," Sherlock's lips twitched upwards.

"What about the fingerprints and DNA found on the crime scene?" Lestrade shifted in his chair.

"Well clearly she must've taken it before killing him," I said.

"And you're absolutely sure of this, Sherlock?" he was looking Sherlock right and the eye, but Sherlock wasn't flinching.

"I'm confident in my solution," Lestrade nodded at Sherlock's answer and stood from his chair. Sherlock did the same and after a small nod Lestrade's way he walked out the door. 

Lestrade glided his hands over his face and let out a big sigh. "Do you mind if..?" I asked motioning toward the door.

"No, no. You can leave," he said waving his hand in the air.

I mumbled a barely audible thanks and rushed out the doors after Sherlock. His coat collar was up against his neck again and I took a deep breath for courage before running after him. 

"Hey," I said as I reached him. He had his head held low and I could just make out a smile.

"Christine, was it?" he asked, raising his head to look at me. He was looking at me with that scanning look again and my insides squirmed. 

"Uh, yeah," I put my hands in my pockets and kept trotting next to him.

 "Would you care for some breakfast?" 

It wasn't until he uttered those words I realised, that through my rushed sleep deprivation I had forgotten completely about food. 

"Uh, sure," I said and picked at the keys inside my pocket.

"I know a lovely place just around the corner," he turned to me and smiled.

I looked down at our feet moving next to each other and felt a smile tug at my lips.