Lestrade burst into 221B, looking to John as if he was ready to give up and quit his job right now.
"I've seen some odd cases in my time, Sherlock, but this," he threw a file down on the kitchen table beside Sherlock's microscope, "is just stupid!"
Sherlock looked up from the microscope, giving the harassed Detective Inspector a cursory glance before flicking the file open with a slender finger. John rose from his chair to stand beside Lestrade at the kitchen door, both of them watching for his friend's reaction to the case. Sherlock scanned the first page and then, as he turned to the second his eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline. He picked up the file in both hands before moving past John and Lestrade, into the living room. He stood in front of the fireplace, flicking through the file as quickly as he could, before going back to pages that jumped out to him.
"What's the case?" John whispered, trying not to disturb Sherlock's thought process,
"Suspicious death, very wealthy scientist, Dr Black found dead at the bottom of his stairs after inviting a load of people to his country house for a weekend party."
"Sounds like an Agatha Christie novel."
"Oh it gets better, want to know the names of the guests?"
"Go on then."
"A Miss Scarlett Redman, Major Anthony Coleman, Mrs Blanche Smith, Jamie Greene from Bishop Auckland, Lucy Peacock, and Professor Martin Peach."
John frowned, he'd never heard of them. He looked over at Sherlock and then realised what his flatmate was looking at, the cluedo board pinned to the wall with a penknife.
"Miss Scarlett, Colonel Mustard, Mrs. White, Reverend Green, Mrs Peacock and Professor Plum?"
"I thought it was a joke too!"
"Next you'll be telling me he was killed in the dining room with a candlestick!"
"That's what makes it even worse, there's blood in every room in the house, and he's been strangled, stabbed, shot and hit over the head with a blunt object. A blunt object we can't even identify since we have his blood on lead piping, a spanner and, yes, a candlestick. Someone out there is doing this to mess me about and I'm not happy about it." Lestrade looked over to Sherlock, "So will you help me? I want to find this killer just so I can show him how annoyed I am."
Sherlock threw the file down on John's chair,
"Well I'm afraid the killer is already dead." Sherlock told him.
"Oh God," John muttered "Sherlock, this isn't the game, the victim can't have beaten himself over the head."
Sherlock spun round to face them, John knew that look, it was Sherlock's "Challenge Accepted" look.
"Oh really?" Sherlock demanded, he looked over to Lestrade "The post-mortem will tell you that Dr Black suffered from Ichicascadiggaphobia, terminal by the looks of it. He was a well-known eccentric, so I'm assuming he wanted to go out with a bang, hence the Cluedo imitation, it will be the only thing on tomorrow's front pages. He attempted to hang himself, probably rigged the rope to break, since he then shot himself. You were wrong I'm afraid Lestrade, hardly surprising mind, Dr Black wasn't a scientist, he was a forensic scientist, big difference, he knows how to fake a crime scene, as does Martin Peach." Sherlock dashed over to the shelves, grabbed a book and handed it to Lestrade, it was 'The Science of Forensics' By Dr Adam Black and Professor Martin Peach.
"They were good friends," Sherlock continued "So it makes sense that Martin would help his friend with his last request. He administered the blows to the head after Dr Black was dead, with each of the objects, that's why the wound is so extensive, then he positioned Dr Black's body at the bottom of the stairs and spread the weapons around the house to wait for the alarm to be raised. So I'm afraid DI Lestrade that the only arrest you can make is Professor Peach for wasting Police time."
Lestrade and John stared at Sherlock open mouthed.
"Well that's good enough for me." Lestrade announced eventually, before grabbing the file and leaving as quickly as he came.