"Sherlock, stop skulking."

"I'm not skulking. I don't skulk."

"John deserved a night out, you can't begrudge him that."

". . ."

"Well, you shouldn't begrudge him that."

"Why not?"

"You're acting childish. How about I make some tea, and you can tell me about what you're doing with those fingers in the freezer."

"You're trying to placate me."

"Yes."

"Fine, then. I'll take the tea, but you will not be able to comprehend what I'm doing with the toes."

"I think I'll be able to stumble along. If I get lost, you can just keep on talking. I'll be a stand-in for the skull, like John."

"You're not like John."

"No, and John is not like the skull. Do you want sugar, in your tea?"

"Of course I do."

"The fingers…?"

"Ah, yes. There was a man violently killed down in Dubshire about a week ago. The most likely suspect is his wife, who stood to inherit a great deal of money should he go missing. She didn't care much for him—her haircut and the fabric of her dress had changed prior his death, which suggests she knew she would be becoming available beforehand. She must have had an accomplice, as she had an alibi for when the majority of the man's body was sealed in a vat in the local winery. I would suspect the vineyard owner, but he should have been aware that the body wouldn't have been suspended in its current state, and whoever dumped the man cut off his fingers and smashed his head in to avoid identification. Besides, he was clearly having an affair with the married receptionist, judging by the wall art in her cubicle."

"Oh, yes?"

"Yes."

"How's the tea?"

"Horrible."

"Don't lie to save my feelings, Sherlock."

". . . Sarcasm?"

"Sarcasm."

"The tea is fine, Mary."

"Now it's a little late. Thank you, anyway. You still haven't explained why there are fingers in the cooler. . ."

"Didn't I? If they freeze through in the next twelve hours, the vineyard owner was in on it, as he signed out of work at that amount of time previous to the police finding the phalanges in the neighbors' cooler."

"I see."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't. Will they be in the freezer long?"

"No, I should be done with that set tomorrow morning. Unless I end up using them to test a hypothesis regarding the deterioration of fingernails in sink cleaner."

"I need that freezer space for ice."

"Mary, you're brilliant!"

"I am, yes! Why . . . ?"

"The woman next door had a dinner party the night previous, as there was a coat left behind that didn't belong to any member of her family and wine glasses were unwashed in the sink. Three members of the family were underage, and there was a concentrated orange juice tube in trash receptacle, the kind that is kept in a freezer. The woman couldn't have just 'missed' the fingers in her cooler, no one does that. She was in on it!"

"Erm, lovely."

"I need to phone Lestrade. Put the kettle back on—my tea seems to have gotten cold."

.

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A/N: Thanks for reading, and review if you'd like, or if you'd like to give me a prompt.

Tobi.