Chapter 1
The pink lady
"You're a doctor. An army doctor."
John watched the tall man, his flatmate, standing in the door opening, waiting for a reply. John grunted silently when rising up from his comfy chair, standing up as straight as he could. "Yes," he answered. Not really sure why he was asked these things, as his flatmate already knew this.
"Any good?" The man, Sherlock, closed up the distance between them.
"Very good." John's answer was firm, daring even. The man called Sherlock Holmes got
closer, now there were only a few feet between the two men.
"You must have seen a lot of violence then, dreadful deaths..." Sherlock continued.
"Enough for a life time." The space between John and Sherlock lessened even more.
Sherlock's face was almost touching John's.
"Want to see some more?" Sherlock smirked, he knew he had him. His conclusion was
confirmed as the other man answered: "Oh god, yes". They hurried out of their shared
apartment in Baker Street and called for a taxi. John barely remembered to tell their
landlady, Mrs Hudson, that he would skip tea as he now had something else to do.
Something way more fun.
oOoOoOo
John stood in a white room with wooden floor. The painting was peeling of, and the floor
looked too old to be safe to walk on. The air was filled with dust, making it hard to breathe normally. Beside him was Detective Inspector Lestrade. He was the one working on this case,
and he was also the one who needed help from the consulting detective; Sherlock Holmes,
John's flatmate. On the floor was a dead woman, dressed in a bright shade of pink. Sherlock was deducing and observing, collecting clues. He seemed to think that this was a
serial killer's work, a serial killer whom persuaded people to take suicide. The woman on the floor was the fourth victim, and hopefully the last. The murdered woman on the floor had done something the others hadn't. She had left a note. In her last seconds alive she scratched 'Rache' in the floor with her nails. This was a very exciting twist in Sherlock's opinion; first a serial killer whom made people kill themselves, then one of them left a note.
DI Lestrade interrupted the silence that had once filled the room. "Show me what you've
got, Sherlock."
Sherlock slowly stood up. He turned towards John, totally ignoring the other man's request. "Your turn, John." He said.
"Um...what?"John's voice was slightly unsure. When he thought about it, he didn't really
know why he was there.
"Sherlock, I can't allow that. It is enough trouble to go through getting you on the crime
scene." Lestrade said, trying to reason with the man, but Sherlock would have none of it. A
cold stare from him was enough to persuade the DI otherwise.
"John." The tall man's voice was insisting.
The doctor puffed slightly before doing as he was told earlier. John slowly crouched down,
struggling a bit with his bad leg. His brain worked a little slower than normal. He was still
confused with the man he had just met, whose name was Sherlock Holmes. He met him
yesterday for God's sake and now he was solving crimes with him. This all seemed a little
too crazy for him. Just a day ago he had said to his therapist that nothing ever happened to
him. The world was a bit too ironic to Watson's taste.
John shook his head and started observing. It was a female, mid forties? She wore a neon
pink coat with matching heels and an absurd quantity of jewellery and rings and all except her wedding ring were clean. Her coat was wet, been out in the rain lately. But it hadn't rained
in London for quite some time... This brought a confused look on his face. He kneeled closer, smelling for alcohol. There was none, though there was a sour smell from what probably was vomit. Drugs then, she choked on
her own vomit.
"What have you deduced so far?" It was Sherlock's voice, he sounded a bit curious.
"Married woman in her mid forties..." "No alcohol smell, probably taken drugs, then choked on her vomit." He made a brief pause. "Her coat is wet... but there hasn't been any rain in
London the past days..." DI Lestrade stood in the background, a bit surprised. The army
doctor had only used a minute and had gotten more information than what his own men
had in ten.
Dr. Watson turned towards his flatmate. "How did I do?"
"Not bad, though you did miss almost everything of importance." Sherlock's cocky answer
was not unexpected, even though John Watson had only known him for a day and a half he
was already used to his flatmate's cockiness. Only a sigh from the doctor was heard before
Sherlock (or the Freak, as some of the police officers called him) began to ramble through
everything Watson had missed (which was quite a lot, though he had been onto something).
oOoOoOo
"PINK!" Sherlock almost tripped down the stairs as he called it out over and over again. John looked after him, a confused frown on his face. He soon got himself rid of it as he figured
out that he would get an explanation later. At least he hoped so.
Before Sherlock Holmes had fled the crime scene, he had been ordered to go with Lestrade
to get some more information. Jennifer, the pink lady, had written a message in the floor;
Rachel. Which was weird, Rachel was the name of her stillborn daughter. Why would
she in her single moment before death write the name of her long dead daughter? It was
long ago, she should be over it by now. It made no sense. Therefore had Sherlock insisted
that John had to go with Lestrade to interview Jennifer's adopted daughter; Raven. She lived a couple of blocks from here. She was 23 years old and an artist. That was all John Watson
knew about her.
Watson grunted softly as he climbed into the cab with the Detective Inspector at the other
side, giving the address to the cabbie. The trip to 23 year old artist's apartment was short,
though John Watson's journey had only just begun.
Author's note: I would be forever grateful if some of you readers could be so kind to
review my story. I'd really appreciate it. And before I forget it, I have to thank my beta,
Potterhorse-Spirit, and I will also recommend her story to you; Fight For What You Stand
For. It is extraordinary, so if you won't review my story, please at least review PHS's .
Sincerely Ar3emis
(Beta note: You really should review this, though. My friend is awesome and I think this
story could turn out really great!
Love, hugs and kisses to all,
PHS Xx)