The Consulting Detective, the ex-Army Doctor, and the Child //BBC Sherlock

~CHAPTER 2~

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked as the three boys walked towards the crime scene.

"Harry's my aunt," Xavier said. "Harry is short for Harriet." Sherlock stopped in his tracks.

"Harry's your sister. Of course," he muttered before continuing with John and Xavier.

It was only a few moments until they three arrived at the crime scene, greeted by a dark haired woman.

"Hello, Freak," she said. "Ruining kids lives now are you?"

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade," Sherlock said, ignoring the lady's comments.

"Why?"

"I was invited."

"Why?" Xavier couldn't believe that she had been calling him a kid just a few moments ago.

"I think he wants me to take a look."

Well you know what I think."

"Always, Sally," Sherlock said, ducking under the police tape.

"Who's this?" the woman, Sally, asked, looking at Xavier and John.

"Dr. John Watson and his son, Xavier Watson, colleagues of mine."

"Did he follow you home?" Sally asked facing the two Watsons.

Xavier looked around awkwardly for a minute before following his father under the police tape. The woman followed afterwards, leading them towards the building. They stopped in front of a man, Anderson, Sherlock had called him. Anderson and the detective had a short conversation before the group went inside.

When they walked in lestrade was in the middle of putting on a pair of coveralls.

"You need to put one on," Sherlock instructed, pointing towards a pile of the similar coveralls. Xavier dug through the pile trying to find a size that wouldn't make it look like he was drowning in it. The smallest he managed to find was a men's small, and even that was nearly two times bigger than it should have been on him.

The group began their journey up the king staircase, Xavier trying his hardest  not to trip, over the long coveralls. Soon enough the three reached the top of the stairs and headed into the room.

The first thing Xavier noticed was the dead body, though that wasn't a shock. The second thing he noticed was the alarming shade of pink that the woman was wearing. Hes coat was pink, her nails were pink, hew shoes were pink. The young boy wondered how anyone could stand to wear so much of one colour. The third thing he noticed was the word 'Rache' scratched into the floor.  She could have been trying to spell Rachel. The person who killed her could have been named Rachel.

Sherlock had began to inspect the body, paying close attention to things that even Xavier, who liked to pride himself on being detail oriented, would have ignored.

"Why am I here?" asked John. 

"Because you insisted that your son was incapable of going alone. Also to help me make a point," Sherlock responded.

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay rent."

"Yeah, well, this is  more fun."

"Fun? There's a woman lying dead!" John exclaimed.

"Correct, though I was hoping you would go a bit deeper." John sighed and got down on his knees to inspect the body just as Lestrade walked into the room.

"Asphyxiation probably," John started, "Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Drugs probably."

"Of course it was drugs," Xavier spoke up. "Have you read the newspaper?"

"She's one of the suicides? The fourth?" John asked in surprise. Xavier nodded.

"Sherlock, I said two minutes," said Lestrade, "I need anything you have." Sherlock stood up and began talking.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase." Xavier looked  around for a suitcase but couldn't find anything, John and Lestrade seemed equally confused but Sherlock ignored them and continued talking. "She's been married for ten years, not happily though. There was a string of lovers, none of them knew she was married. 

"Her ring, it's at least ten years old," Sherlock began explaining when he noticed the confused looks the others were giving him. "The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple." 

"That's amazing!" Xavier exclaimed.

"But how do you know she's from Cardiff?" Lestrade asked, not nearly as impressed with the detective as the young boy and his father."

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock said. When the others shook their heads he sighed. "Dear God, it must be so boring in those funny little brains of yours." He turned back to the body.

"Her coat, it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, it's strong wind, too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?"

"Cardiff?" Xavier said as Sherlock pulled out his phone to show the other three the weather in Cardiff.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes, yes, suitcase! Where is it? She must have had a phone. Find out who Rachel is," Sherlock commanded as he looked around the room for a suitcase.

"Sherlock, there was never a case."

""Suitcase! Has anyone seen a suitcase?" Sherlock called through the house, running out the door, leaving Xavier and John alone in the room as Lestrade followed the detective.