Sherlock Season 5

Murder at the "Orient Express"

Murder At The "Orient Express"

Cover: alphiney

Sherlock Holmes paced around frantically in the living room of 221B, the carpet with worn marks from where he had been pacing all morning. His hair was disheveled in every direction, and his navy silk robe was flowing frantically around him as he paced.

"You see, the woman couldn't possibly have been murdered by her husband, the bruises on her neck were far too small of hands to be a grown man's. Nobody else was in the house when she died, so therefore the murderer had another way of killing her, something to do with the bruising around her neck, probably strangled to death and yet! And yet there was no one to strangle her there except her own hands."

He stopped pacing quickly and looked over at John's chair.

"She was choking on a piece of food and choked herself to death with her own hands! Upon further looking I found a piece of apple exactly 45 degrees from where her mouth would have to spit it out. It really was quite obvious, wasn't it?"

Rosie clapped her hands clumsily, looking at Sherlock with happy eyes. She sat askew in the corner of John's chair.

"You are a smart girl aren't you, Ms. Watson," he glided over to her and picked her up in his arms, bouncing her around as he continued to ramble about past cases. "Quite above average for a Watson." She laughed again.

"Sherlock Holmes," came a disgruntled voice from the stairwell. "It is four in the morning why on earth are you teaching my one-year-old daughter about deduction!" his hair was frazzled and staticy, jutting out in every which way. His backward shirt and mismatched socks added to the look of sleepy Watson that Sherlock had seen so many times.

"It is never too early to learn the complicated art that is a deduction, John," Rosie bobbed her head as if she agreed with him.

"It's bloody four in the morning!" John strutted over to Sherlock and took Rosie, who graciously accepted her father's embrace. "Rosie is a growing child, Sherlock, you must know she needs to sleep."

Sherlock gave John a confused look, "I did not sleep as a child nearly as much as you claim is required."

John exhaled sharply and mumbled into Rosie's hair "that explains a lot," and clumsily climbed the stairs up to his and Rosie's room.

Sherlock snorted when he left, not bothering to explain that Rosie had been crying and was simply trying to help.

"People," he scoffed before restarting his experiment on the effects of microwaves on human thumbs.

INTRO PLAYS

"How have you been holding up, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked politely as she set out the morning tea, shoving over his microscope and experiments to make room.

"Mrs. Hudson I don't need to 'hold up' anything." he dramatically picked up his cup of tea and flopped lazily onto his chair.

"Oh I don't know about that, now that there is a baby in the house you're practically a father! Doesn't leave much time for casework now does it dearly." She walked over to John's armchair, the usual occupant was still asleep.

"John is Rosie's father, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, exasperated.

"Oh Sherlock, you never learn do you," she tutted and added two sugars to his tea for him.

Sherlock ignored her comment and went about shuffling through papers, absentmindedly avoiding the conversation.

"You know Sherlock, it's been a while since..." she paused, "the incident with Mary."