Eye Contact *ON HOLD*

Psychopath

Sherlock smirked at the small girl. “Doctor Watson, your turn. What do you think?”

John raised his eyebrows. “Of?”

“Of the body. You’re a medical man. What’s the cause of death?”

Lestrade stared at him. “We have a whole team out there, Sherlock. No.”

Sherlock’s gaze snapped to the detective. “They won’t work with me.”

“I’m breaking every rule letting you in here. Even more for letting her examine the body,” he said, nodding toward Maggie.

Sherlock gave the man a knowing look. “Yes, because you need me.”

There was a short amount of time that was spent with the two detectives staring at one another before Lestrade gave up, looking down as if disappointed in himself.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “God help me.”

“Doctor Watson,” Sherlock said.

“Hm?” John answered, who had been staring intently at the body. Sherlock gave him a look and John turned to Lestrade, silently asking permission.

Lestrade shrugged, obviously a little annoyed at Sherlock’s insistence for everyone but the actual medical team to look at the body. “Oh, do as he says. Help yourself.” He turned, walking out the door and closing it. Through the wood Maggie could hear him speaking. “Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes.”

Maggie stood in the corner by the scaffolding poles while Sherlock squatted on the woman’s left side and John went to the right, lowering himself down with a look of pain on his face while he leaned quite heavily on his cane.

“Sherlock,” John murmured.

“Well?”

“What am I doing here?”

“Helping me prove a point,” Sherlock answered, not looking up from the corpse in front of him. 

“I’m supposed to be helping you pay the rent,” John answered.

“Yeah, well, this is more fun.” He pulled out his magnifier and began examining the body all over again.

“Fun?” John asked. “There’s a woman lying dead.”

Sherlock looked up at him. “That’s a perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you’d go deeper.”

“And Maggie, what are you doing bringing some young homeless girl with us?”

“Testing her.”

“For what?” John whispered angrily. “Are you incapable of giving straight answers?”

Just then Lestrade entered the room again and Sherlock gave John a look that said get on with it. John sighed deeply and dragged down his other leg to kneel by the body. He leaned forward a bit to look at her more closely and put his face near hers, sniffing a bit. He then straightened up and picked up her right hand, examining her pale skin. After a moment, he lay her hand back as close to its original position as possible before looking across to Sherlock, who was watching him intently.

“Yeah. Asphyxiation, probably,” John said, looking to Lestrade as well. “Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure, possibly drugs.”

“You know what it was. You’ve read the papers,” Sherlock said.

John looked around. “What, she’s one of the suicides? The fourth?”