Experiments (Sherlock BBC- Johnlock Fanfic)

6- More Mysteries

-Sherlock-

I rushed out of the taxi and observed the address the murder was at; a small apartment building, dirty and unkempt. It was obviously cheap, and it seemed an easy place for someone to fly under the radar.

I heard John behind me making polite conversation with one of the ambulance workers. I paid him no attention as I strode inside. As I had suspected, the apartment block had dirty white walls and little furniture with mold and dirt everywhere. Lestrade was waiting for me near the stairs. I walked past him, allowing him to fill me in on the case as we ascended.

'Alright, so it's another murder. Andersons already been in to have a look at her,' I groaned, 'and she died in the same way as the other victim. She was asleep, and appears to have been gassed to death. Female, she's about thirty, Hispanic, lived in London her whole life. Her name is Karen Solder, she worked at the supermarket down the road. Another message was scratched into the wall above her body this time as well.'

We reached a door at the third level of stairs and Lestrade led me in. Anderson was set up in the lounge room. He had deep circles around his eyes as he lazily played with his setup of unnecessary equipment. He looked up at me annoyed.

'Hello freak, I see you're back from the dead to come mess up my crime scene.'

My top lip curled up in anger.

'And I see your wife's death hasn't stopped you from seeing Donovan.'

He looked at me with his eyes narrowed just as John walked into the room. He fixed me with an angry glare and pointed at me.

'You say sorry to him right now Sherlock; he's been through a lot these few weeks.'

I looked at John exasperated, but he was unrelenting.

'Sorry,' I said, looking away. John focused his attention to Anderson.

'And you, Anderson there is no need to be rude.' Anderson grunted an apology and I observed his findings. He had all sorts of unnecessary equipment and was powdering the carpet in search of footprints.

'It'd be easier to dust for footprints on the tiles in the bathroom. The tiles don't absorb the dust and material as well as carpet does,' I pointed out to him.

'Don't tell me how to do my job Sherlock.'

With a sigh I walked away from Anderson and looked at the rest of the flat. There was a simple, dirty kitchen and a cheap TV and sofa all crammed into the entrance room. There were two doors; I went through the one on the right.

I found myself in a simple bedroom, with plain white walls and cheap wooden furniture. Lying on the bed was the woman. She had frizzy unkempt hair and dark skin which was covered in blisters. Unlike the first victim, her eyes were opened slightly and there were scratch marks at her throat. Her eyes were unfocussed and yellowing. I was surprised by her likeness to Donovan.

On the wall to the right of her body was another message. This time it read 'For my lover'.

I walked over to examine the scratching, since I already knew the details of the murder. The scratch was light, and only scratched into the paint, not the wall behind it. The scratches weren't straight or thin, so they weren't done with a knife. The scratches themselves were made up of a line of smaller scratches, only a few millimeters thick. Whatever had caused the scratches was about seven millimeters wide and cut into an interesting shape with lots of points, in order to cause multiple scratch marks.

I delved into my mind palace for a type of weapon that suited the description, but I drew a blank. Almost frantically, I searched every weapon I had in my memory over and over, still seeing nothing that matched the scratch marks.

'Sherlock? You okay there?'

John's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. In his hand he held a gas mask out to me. I rolled my eyes. He grinned at me.

'We only have to wear them if we are going in the bathroom. It's closed off at the moment due to the fumes, and we're allowed in there for a few minutes if we wear the masks.'

So Anderson wasn't that stupid.

'Alright John, give me a run-down of the victim.' I took the mask from his hand and stared at him quizzically when he didn't start talking.

'Sherlock I thought this was your job not mine.'

'I already know how she died, it was child's play, I just want you to confirm my theory. I'm much more interested in that,' I said as I pointed dramatically to the wall.

John sighed but walked over to the body just as asked.

'Hmm okay so... she died the same way as the other victim, by inhalation. It looks like, this time she woke up, just as she was about to die. She scratched her throat, and eventually died from internal bleeding I guess.'

I nodded at him and pulled the mask on. He followed suit, and soon I was opening the door to the bathroom. There was a familiar bucket of chemicals, what appeared to be bleach and ammonia. Annoyed with my lack of progress in the case, I took a sample of the solution and the scratch on the wall and headed off to the lab to analyze them in case I had missed anything. I instructed Anderson to send his findings of the footprints from the carpet and the bathroom to me as soon as he had finished.

When we got to the lab I nodded a greeting to Molly, and she talked to John about something unsubstantial as I analyzed he liquid, instructing them to leave the room due to the fumes. I put on my gas mask I had taken with me from the crime scene and analyzed the liquid. My suspicions were confirmed as the materials used were bleach and ammonia, but the ammonia was extremely diluted as it was found in a window cleaner, not as straight ammonia.

Letting John and a disgruntled Molly back in, ('it's my lab Sherlock you have no right to kick me out!') I begun analyzing the scratches in the paint sample I had taken. The most curious finding was that whatever had been used to cut scratch the pain had left no residue whatsoever, so it couldn't be made of a weak material like wood, although it couldn't have been made with a sharp material like a knife, or it would have left harsher marks. Exasperated, I decided to sleep on it.

John thanked Molly and we headed back to the flat. I sat in my chair playing my violin into the early hours of the night, trying to piece the case together in my head, to no avail.