I looked at the victim's sister. "Was your sister always as fat and gruesome as she was when she died?" I felt my partner grab my arm and pull me out of the interrogation room.
"What do you think you're doing? Her sister just died in a horribly ghastly fashion, and you can't be sensitive enough to not ask if she was always fat? What's wrong with you?"
I tilted my head to the side. "I'm just trying to figure something out. I have a theory on how her sister died, and I needed to confirm it."
Detective O'Brian massaged her temples. "Agent Holmes, I know that I usually don't mind you leading the interrogations, but today, I'll do it. We don't need her blubbering so much she can't answer our questions." She walked back into the room, gesturing for me to stay here and 'observe how to properly question a person who just lost a close sibling.' As if I needed lessons in interrogation. I am the great-great-great-great-GREAT granddaughter of Sherlock Holmes. I huffed as I sat down in the chair, watching through the one way glass.
The interrogation went on for hours. The chair I was sitting in was uncomfortable. I shifted countless times, and finally gave up, going to sit on the floor in the corner. I knew that it would take my partner forever to interrogate. She insisted on using every question from the mandatory course. The long list (consisting of three hundred plus questions) was for recommended use, but Detective O'Brian did everything by the book. It was really annoying. But, that's what she said about my 'free reign.'
As the cross-examination went on, I tuned out. Closing my eyes, I thought about all the evidence we had found the day before. The body had been discovered by a neighbor, who frantically called two seconds later, then fainted. Something which I commented on once we arrived. For some reason, it made O'Brian a little angry…..
I heard the door open and someone step into the viewing room. Irritated, I opened my eyes, a reprimand on its way out of my mouth. "What do you think you're doing, this room is only for-" I stopped, surprised at what I was seeing.
The man looked like my father, which wasn't possible, as my dad was dead. There were a few small differences, but the face was essentially the same. I hastily got to my feet, standing to attention.
He chuckled under his breath. "At ease, soldier. There's no need to be so…" He trailed off; seeming to search for the word he was looking for. "Tense."
I gaped at him, speechless, which is something that I've never experienced. But it wasn't stranger than my dad come back from the dead.
"Oh, I see. You're confused. You don't know who I am." He walked forward, sticking out his hand. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. You're my granddaughter. You're puzzled about this case, and you have a theory, but your partner won't let you ask the questions you need to prove it. Partners can be like that sometimes. I should know, my partner, John Watson, held me back a lot, but he still let me do my job. You should think of requesting a new partner. In fact," he paused, pacing around the room. "John's sixth great grandson lives a few hours away, and he's looking for a new partner. He's a very accomplished FBI Agent like yourself, and I'm sure you two could have a plethora of fun adventures like Watson and I. Oh, I remember, there was this one case where-" He cut off, realizing that I was staring at him with my mouth open. "Right, I'm not here to reminisce, I'm here to help you with your case. You are correct in your assumption of how the girl died."
"But-"
"And if that's the way she died, then you know who did it, too."
"I don't know! I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" I clutched my head in my hands. If I was right, then that meant that… I felt his hand on my shoulder.
"But you do know. It's all in your head. You just have to know how to unlock your true potential. You've done it before. Concentrate." His fingers touched my forehead, and the spot where they touched grew hot. Even from behind my closed eyelids, I saw a flash of light. Then silence. When I opened my eyes, Sherlock was gone. I heard a voice in the distance, like I was listening through glass.
"Agent Holmes. Agent Holmes? Wake up; I'm done with my interrogation. Agent Holmes!" Someone slapped my face, and my eyes flicked open to see Detective O'Brian's face hovering a few inches above mine.
"You fell asleep while I was questioning her, didn't you pay attention? I told you to listen while I was questioning her, because you need to learn how to interrogate people correctly! You're too insensitive, and you don't know how to be delicate with people's feelings!"
Narrowing my eyes, I stood up, refusing her helping hand. "I want a new partner. I don't like you." With that, I stormed out of the room and down the hallway. When I got home, I slumped onto my bed, turning on violin music and massaging my temples. What had happened felt so real, it couldn't have been a dream. But O'Brian said I had fallen asleep. The conundrum was giving me a headache, which was made worse by the telephone ringing.
I groaned, slowly pushing myself off my bed. I reached for the phone, bringing it up to my ear.
"Hello? Is this the residence of Amelia Holmes?" The voice on the other side was masculine. "This is James Watson, calling about a case that recently appeared in your area. Our precinct believes it is the work of a serial killer."
"Yes, this is Amelia Holmes. And I know who did it."