Ohayo minna~! I hope this fic does well on here! Please don't hate on it okay? I worked hard and I really want this to be one of my best. (I posted it on my Deviantart as well just in case this gets deleted)
Another dreary day in London. How it always was, and, per usual, there has been a murder on the loose. The police had yet to catch this criminal, even after 5 months and six more murders, the most recent one only being committed the night before this one. So they called upon two of the greatest minds they could find within the country of England. The esteemed consulting detective Sherlock Holmes; and (Y/N), the genius newbie. (F/N) arrived at the scene in a normal cab, paying with normal money, while dressed in normal clothes. But she was far from normal. The complete opposite in fact. Everyone, even Sherlock, was in for a surprise this evening. (F/N) took confident steps up to the front-door of the normal looking building. She turned the gold-plated doorknob and stepped inside. Flat number B437was her targeted location for this case. The landlady greeted her with a happy smile; although (F/N) could see the terror in the old woman's eyes. She told (F/N) where the flat was, and led her up to the door, where they parted ways. The old woman left rather quickly with a skip in her step; wanting to get away from the horror behind the door. (F/N) took a deep breath, and sighed, then turned yet another gold-plated doorknob, and walked into the flat.
It was a homey flat. Complete with floral wallpaper on the walls, and many different ceramic figurines scattered about the place. Very clean; whomever lived here surely took good care of the place. Not a speck of dust in sight, and surely not the best place to carry out a murder. There were three other people other than (F/N) in the room, all males, which all turned to look silently as she closed the door with soft click. One of the men, the older one, presumably in his late forties or so, with a few grey hairs spread about. He had a serious look on his face as he greeted (F/N) "I'm glad you're here Miss (L/N). Unfortunately this case calls for two minds instead of one." He had said. "I'm Lestrade. These two here are Dr. John Watson," He gestured to the shorter of the two others, who had nodded in acknowledgment. "And Mr. Sherlock Holmes." The taller one's head snapped from where he was observing the body at the mention of his name.
He glared at (F/N) with his grey eyes. She could practically see the thoughts running through his mind as he stepped away from the body. (Which (F/N) noticed that was incomprehensible to tell who exactly it was. She would get a better look eventually.) He came up to her, observing her like he did with the victim. He was thinking out loud as his gaze traveled. "Good shape; fit for anything that comes her way. From the way she holds herself it could possibly be judo or some other type of martial arts. Obviously not accustomed to an office life. Needs a job where she can move about. Cinnamon smell; takes care of herself very well. No family troubles recently. Not a drinker, smoker, or addict of any kind, and from the way you are observing my every move leads me to believe that you are a detective that specializes in murder case trials. Although you are new to the occupation, you have potential." He stood in front of (F/N) and smirked. "Did I get that right?"
She raised her eyebrows, and also smirked. "Yes, but you missed one very important detail."
"And what's that?"
"I'm your biggest rival."
Sherlock was at a loss for words for once. No one had ever said that to him, and if anybody had, he wouldn't have expected it to come from a girl like (F/N) He stared at her for a long moment, but eventually went back to observing the body. The man named John Watson came up to (F/N) and held out his hand. She took it, and shook slowly. "Sorry about him. He's always like that." He apologized.
"It's quite alright Dr. Watson. I would've expected nothing less." (F/N) answered quietly.
"Just John is fine." He said, giving (F/N) a small but hopeful smile.
(F/N) smiled softly back at him, then turned her attention to Sherlock and the body. It was charred all the way through; impossible to identify the victim without the use of DNA testing. Only a few small details helped. The plain metal plate bracelet on the victims right wrist; the singed keys in the fragile coat pocket; and a designer pen from EMIS. (F/N) kneeled down next to it, and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, put them on, and carefully pulled the bracelet off. With her thumb, she rubbed off some of the charcoal that had formed from the metal. Something was engraved, but still illegible. When nobody was looking, she stuffed the bracelet in her coat pocket, then busied herself with observing the remains. "That's odd…" She mumbled out loud.
"What is it?" Lestrade asked hopefully.
(F/N) stood up with altering her gaze. "There's absolutely no burn marks on the floor. Someone brought the body inside after they killed him or her. The killer left that obvious clue. Like they want to get caught." She told him.
Sherlock rose to his feet as well, and joined the circle. "Although, since the body is extremely fragile from being burnt to a crisp, the killer couldn't have moved it far. It had to be moved from somewhere in this building."
"Sherlock, are you saying that someone is this building is the killer?" John blurted out, looking up from his notes.
(F/N) spoke up. "The killer is most defiantly not living in or near this building. They wouldn't want to live this close to the crime scene. My theory is that the killer broke in, somehow burnt this person to a crisp like a scone gone wrong, moved them here, and escaped out the window." She finished, gesturing to the nearby closed window.
"Why the window?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.
(F/N) stepped up to the window. "See for yourself." She said, opening the shutters and pointing outside.
Both John and Lestrade poked their heads out and looked everywhere and couldn't find the escape route that (F/N) mentioned. The pulled back inside, even more confused than before. "What exactly are we looking for?" Lestrade questioned.
"The pipe." Sherlock pointed out. "The rain gutter drain pipe beside the window. The killer must've shimmied down it. Leaving the door locked to make it look like a suicide." Sherlock sighed as he brushed off his coat. "Lestrade, I'm going to need al of the information you have about this murder sent to my flat pronto. I'm going to go back there and look things over with the other 6 cases. I'll meet you back home John. Oh, and miss (L/N)?" He said quickly, glancing up at her through his curls.
"Yes?" She asked warily.
"Why don't you come over for some tea. I like to know who I'm working with. John will show you the way."
And with that said, Sherlock was gone. Only footsteps down the hall let people know that he was leaving. Lestrade sighed heavily, and cracked his neck. "I'd better get to work on that file then. See yourselves out." He said, also leaving.
Only John and (F/N) remained. John scribbled down some last-minute notes while she gave one last look at the body to see if she had missed anything important. The snap of a book closing brought her back to reality, and she looked at John. "Come along Miss (L/N). Might as well go now. Sherlock won't let us hear the end of it if we dally. I'll get us a taxi, meet me downstairs in a minute or two."
Now (F/N) was the last one at the crime scene. She glanced around at the flat once more, and before she could leave, the floorboards caught her eye. She kneeled down to get a closer look and noticed that there was a very faint ash trail leading from the bathroom to the body. A honk from outside broke her out of her trance once more, and she ran down to the taxi without a second thought.
So did everyone like it? Please let me know what you thought!