The one, who makes the difference (Sherlockxreader)

chapter 4 -When are you two getting married?-

I slightly shook my head, while I walked. This wasn't the right time to be embarrassed. From the sound of the steps behind me, I could figure that it was the Detective walking there. He didn't walk in full-speed, but he was still faster than the other two. His steps were long, just like my own. Maybe because he was quite tall and had longer legs than the other two men, but it could also be a sign of being very focused...
Damn it! This wasn't the right time to think about the way people walk and what that tells me about them either!
"Concentrate (y|l|n). Focus," I mumbled to myself (A/N: If you get this reference, you are probably a Snakehead too... :)) "We are at a crime scene!"
The Detective glanced over at me, as he heard me reprimanding myself.
"Here we go... embarrassing myself again," I thought. I went under the barrier tape, holding it up for the three men, which brought me a thankful smile from Dr. Watson and the D. I.
Sherlock didn't even recognize it, how polite... He went right to the corpse. As I wanted to follow him, I saw Anderson holding a letter in his hands. I took a pair of textile gloves, from the box Lestrade handed over to me, removing my own leather gloves, putting them on. I went straight to Anderson, taking the letter out of his hands. He gave me a death glare, but I didn't even care. I unfolded the piece of paper and read through it. Something was wrong with it.
"Did all five of them wrote such a" suicide note", " I asked Lestrade.
"Indeed"
"It's not a suicide note," I announced.
"But it says that he wants to leave his life behind and end-all of "this"..., " Anderson argued.
"Stop talking Anderson, just hearing your voice already lowers my IQ," Mr. Holmes said, all of a sudden standing right behind me. I handed him the letter.
"Correct me if I am wrong, but I'd say the handwriting is way too snappy and he doesn't say goodbye to his wife in it. So it can't be a suicide note," I concluded. Sherlock took a look a the letter.
"So far, so obvious," he agreed.
"Obvious?! What are you talking about? Which wife? How is the handwriting too snappy? And why can't you just stop acting bloody important and just admit that it's just an ordinary bloody suicide?" Anderson hissed.
I could not help face-palming myself.
"Already feel your IQ sinking?" Sherlock asked me blackly. I nodded in response and he gave me a smirk.
"Open your eyes, Anderson! He is wearing a well taken care of wedding ring, not like your own. Added to this a woman subbing up a storm, obviously, his wife arrived here just four minutes ago. She was obviously called by one of your not so blind colleagues. Snappy handwriting is a simple psychological sign of hope and cheerfulness. You are not cheerful when you are about to kill yourself..., "Sherlock explained my conclusion and I nodded in agreement.
"So you are saying the killer, who doesn't exist, by the way, wrote it?" Anderson asked stupidly.
"NO!," Sherlock and I answered very annoyed, at the same time.
"He wrote it some time ago, probably in order to leave something in his past behind. The killer must have known. We need the other letters, everything you did and didn't find at the crime scene and the boy's," I explained.
"I need to question his wife," Sherlock and I said, at the same time again.
"spooky," John Watson mumbled.
"It would be very nice if you could wait for a second with the interrogation. I'd like to be there too. But I need to take a look at the corpse first," I told the Consulting Detective.
"Why should I... Hmpf..."
John poked him in his side
"Of course we'll wait," he replied to my question glaring at Sherlock.
"Thank you, Dr. Watson," I smiled at him.
"John, please, " he answered.
"Thank you, John," I repeated my expression of thanks, smiling even more. I rushed over to the hanging man, to take a look at him.
He was mid thirty and his body actually looked like he had recovered from a crisis, and started gaining his normal weight and getting healthy again. Why would he kill himself when he was getting better again?
But there were also tear trails on his face. He had red Inc marks on his hands. The rope he hung himself with was a gin wheel rope, as a construction worker used it. The carabiner, which was usually at one side of these ropes, had been cut off.
I spun around walking back to Sherlock and John again, as they waited for me to come over.
"Why would a teacher have a gin wheel rope?," I asked Sherlock.
"A teacher?" John asked me confused.
"Yes, didn't you recognized the red Inc marks on his hands? He was correcting test before he died," I told John.
"He could just be someone who likes writing with red Inc," he responded.
"not likely," Sherlock and I responded.
"And if he was, he would have written the letter in red too," I added.
"Maybe he used the rope to renovate his house or he just bought it to hang himself," John tried again.
"implausible," again Sherlock and I responded, at the same time.
"And may I ask why?"
"The house was just built a few years ago. What would you want to renovate using a rope?! He is not the I-help-my-friends-renovate-guy. Why? He had back problems, as you could have seen by the way his shoulders are hanging beside him. The rope is also not freshly bought there are clear signs of usage on it, " Sherlock explained.
"And why would you buy a rope with a carabiner on it, just to cut it off. That's not logical, " I added.
John looked defeated.
"You are right," he muttered.
"We know," both of us responded.
"Lord help me," John smirked.
"Let's interrogate the wife, shall we?," I asked. The Detective nodded. The three of us went over to the woman.
"Hello...," Sherlock wanted to introduce us, but she cut him off right away.
"Who are you? What do you want? I've already talked to the police," she cried hysterically.
In my mind, the seconds turn into decades, while I started to observe every inch of the woman in front of me. She held a key in her hand with a pendant on it. I recognized that it was a picture of a child in a clear plastic case. A boy, maybe five years old, printed on a cloudy background, the words "We will always love you" beneath it. The case looked new three months old maybe. I took a look at her car it was new, probably about three months old too. I suddenly realized what happened to her son. He was killed in a car accident. His father was probably driving...he felt guilty. Since the woman didn't look as bad as her now dead husband, she presumably went to a psychologist...
"We are not from the police," I interrupted my own thoughts
"I'm (y|n) Holmes."
I could see the Detective wince at my words.
"An old university friend of your husband. Me, my husband Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, who was in the same pedagogic class we were in, just came over to check on him. Since the death of your son lays about three months back now we hoped that he would be a bit better. Since he never wanted to go to a psychologist, we only hoped.....," I sad, the tears streaming down my face.
"He never mentioned you," the woman sobbed confused.
"He was so withdrawn," I cried.
"Yes, he was. I guess he told you that I forced him to join a self-help group because I couldn't stand seeing him suffer no longer and as you already mentioned he was too withdrawn to go to a psychologist," the wife of the dead man crying, buying my act.
"self-help group," Sherlock mumbled, so quietly that only I could hear it.
"I'm very sorry about your loss, but I still have some assays to correct,"
I said, wiping my tears away, while I walked back to the police cars, leaving a confused woman behind.
"I won't even ask how you've known all that," John said, looking impressed.
"simple observation," Sherlock told him. I nodded.
"We should drive back to Scotland Yard, to compare and examen the other four cases, as you've already said earlier," Sherlock told me, as he stopped beside me.
"Alright then. I don't think we'll need them," I meant pointing at Donovan and Anderson.
"Let's hire a cab," Sherlock agreed.
"Well, there's only one question left, " John said smiling.
"When are you two getting married?"
"We don't want Anderson to commit suicide," I chucked.
The Consulting Detective looked at me rather strange...
Why couldn't I stop embarrassing myself...

*I really don't want to repeat myself all the time XD*
picture sources:
http://locksmithelpasotexas.com/automotive-locksmith/laser-cut-car-keys/
https://www.liftinggeardirect.co.uk/pulley-rope.html
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-2535604/Emmy-Rossum-sheds-tears-films-emotional-scenes-Shameless-perks-flash-huge-smile-takes.html
https://m.imgur.com/gallery/UL2DbfT