Title: The Adventure of the Standing Stones

Rating: PG

Author's Note: Thank you Wikipedia, Google, and some random blog where people talk about heart attacks.

Summary: Written for the prompt 'Sherlock BBC, Sherlock/John or Gen, solving a mystery at Stonehenge' on comment-fic. I decided three mysteries was more in-character.

[*]

John coughed quietly, digging his hands into his pockets to try and get away from the wind that whistled through Stonehenge. The female PC standing guard nearby gave him a look, and he smiled in a friendly way. She glared in return. As usual, Sherlock had alienated everyone at the murder scene immediately by insisting that he needed to stand on one of the stones; he ignored the devastated protests of the archaeological group that had clustered behind the crime scene tape.

After trying to strike up a short conversation with the PC and being firmly rebuffed, John approached the main crime scene. Sherlock was now crouching over the body where it slumped against one of the arches.

"I said, I need the cause of death," he was saying testily.

Detective Inspector Winthrope, who'd been assigned the case, looked to be just about at his breaking point. "I've told you, our ME said natural causes. The only reason we're even here is that people would start thinkin' there's a curse on the stones if we didn't do a full investigation."

"I wasn't talking to you," Sherlock looked at the detective, flinty-eyed. He turned to his flatmate. "John, where have you been?"

"I was just talking to, ah," he gestured at the PC.

Sherlock stared at the woman for two full seconds. Then, "You've got no chance, she's having an affair with her superior."

"What?" Winthrope cried. "That's completely ridiculous! How dare you!"

"Oh don't bother, everyone already knows," Sherlock told him bluntly, already looking back at the body. "They just enjoy talking about it behind your backs," he said distractedly, moving to kneel with his face only a few inches from that of the deceased.

DI Winthrope looked around him, where a few of his fellow officers were stifling giggles, then stormed off.

John mentally added another tick mark to the count of police officers Sherlock had humiliated. It was nearing the triple digits.

"I said, I need the cause of death," Sherlosk repeated

John crouched next to him to inspect the body. "Witnesses described symptoms similar to a heart attack, and the flush to the skin on his upper torso and neck is one indicator of that. His jugular and carotid are swollen, which also…" he frowned.

"What is it?" Sherlock's sharp eyes were intent on John, sensing a clue.

"He doesn't look like he's in pain," the doctor commented. "Heart attacks are painful, usually you can see it on people's faces when they die. He looks… happy."
Sherlock stood up suddenly and started walking away. John stumbled a bit catching up and nearly tripped into one of the stones, eliciting hostile looks from the archaeologists as they walked through the tape.

"Murder," Sherlock pronounced, sounding bored.

"How can you know that?" John asked, part incredulous but mostly curious.

"It's obvious," Sherlock said disgustedly. "Barely worth being called in for. And the rocks are clearly an astronomic calendar; I don't what see all the fuss is about."

"What did you say?" asked a young woman from the small crowd watching the scene. She was clutching a clipboard and lugging a bag of books so heavy that even John could identify her as one of the student interns whose expedition the murder had ousted. "Just, people think it's a calendar, but it's all theory. There's no proof."

"It's right before your eyes. You've just got to pay attention!"

The woman was left staring in confusion as the detective and the doctor walked away.