Inconsistencies In Sentiments

Chapter 2

'Boys play with boys. Girls play with girls.' Eurus argued, grabbing (Y/N)'s wrist as rough as humanly possible. (Y/N) whimpered in pain. It felt as if her fingers had no sense of touch.

'But I was the one who invited her over!' Sherlock retorted, gripping his wooden sword in hand with Victor beside him. He turned to Mycroft who was busy skipping rocks across the small lake. Or was it just a really big puddle?

Nevermind that. 'Mycroft, do something!' He tugged on his sleeve, begging so (Y/N) would play pretend pirate with them. All the while Eurus was already dragging her away. He looked down at 6 year old Sherlock for a brief moment before turning back to the lake.

Sherlock knew what Eurus was going to do and he didn't like it. 'Listen to your sister, Sherlock.' His voice deepened and matured. It sounded like John. At least it sounded like it...

'Sherlock. Snap out of it.' He went back into reality and stared at the grey haired man beside him. 'Did you just die?'

'Yeah yeah. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?' He straightened his scarf and sat upright.

'Where did you go?' Sherlock seemed.... distant. It wasn't like him at all. As if the past had swallowed him whole. Fortunately the cab stopped and he had the advantage to not discuss past matters.

'It doesn't matter now. Let's just focus at the task at ha- oh my god.' John followd his gaze to see Lestrade with a cup of coffee, chippering away with her. The girl from the flat. They approached the pair with caution, trying to get around them without the need for words.

Lestrade noticed them sneaking around like slippery ass bitches anyways and gestured for them to come join them. 'Good morning, boys. This is (Y/N) and she-' He was interrupted by an annoyed Sherlock ducking under the police tape. 'I know who she is. I think she was about to leave.' So that's her name. John thought as he clambered to the other side. That was Sherlock's usual rude gestures but she didn't seem to find it offending. 'Well then. I need to get going anyway. I have some unpacking to do.' She turned and walked away to catch a cab. Just as she left, Lestrade turned to Sherlock to show him his I'm-so-done-with-you look on his face. Surely he was annoyed at someone. I wonder who.

'What the hell happened to you?'

'Something I would not like to discuss. Where's the body?' Sherlock pulled on the leather gloves as he walked in the abandoned building. The forensics team was rushing about in what looked like the reading room. 'Upstairs. First room right side of the stairs.'

The body was a woman. Brown hair styled into a choppy bob, slim figure, mid 30s to early 40s. Her appearence helped in the deduction process. Cheap makeup was smeared across her face, a revealing dusty peach flapper dress did its best to cover her, fishnet stockings and a ostrich feather headband. All of it was paired with black heels and silver necklace. Sherlock leaned in on her neck, smelling a hint of nutmeg and cinnamon. There was a clothing tag on the side of dress. Lanvin. He took out his phone, going into the corner as so he wouldn't be disturbed. 'So, a dead flapper huh?' John leaned against the doorframe as Sherlock's fingers typed out on his browser. John leaned into examine the bruises, taking out a paper napkin from his pocket to wipe away the lipstick.

'Slight bruising on the lips paired with the bruising on her neck,' John ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip, standing up and fixing his posture. 'Strangulation is my best diagnosis. The bruising indicates she died at 10:00 to around midnight last night.'

'More accurately, 11:30 last night. That's shown in her bruising and where she was before she was killed. Her posture and the fact she went out of her way to get all dolled up shows she's standing up a lot and standing up around people, most likely in front of men. Her outfit shows that she's a flapper and there are two bars in London. The closest one is on 1 Mark Lane.' He lifted his phone to show a picture of a stage surround by white tableclothed tables in extravagant lighting. Proud Cabaret.