"So, you two found the body.", Sherlock peered over the table at the two teens sitting in front of him, a girl and a boy. The girl looked about sixteen, with thick brown hair pulled back, and cold brown eyes. Her mouth was pulled into a frown, and her right hand twitched ever few seconds. She had a tan, but it didn't go past her wrists, and she often whispered things into the boy's ear to make him calm down.
The boy, on the other hand, was cowering against the girl, and looked about the same age. He had thick, sandy-colored curls and blue-green eyes that reminded Sherlock too much of his own. He also had ghostly pale skin and sharp cheekbones, making Sherlock feel even more like he was looking at a younger, blonde self. They both had thick black coats and scarves on; the girl's a plum colored wool and the boy's was navy.
"Yeah.", The girl said, and the boy nodded.
"Must be traumatizing.", Sherlock smirked, and the girl shrugged.
"I've seen worse. A serial adulterer who's supposedly committed suicide isn't that bad.", She said, and Lestrade, John and Sherlock stiffened.
"How... how did you know that?", John asked, and the boy sighed.
"Isn't it obvious?", He sat up straight, and ran his fingers through his curls. "Her ring. It's also obvious that she had a suitcase which contained her phone, and she's trying to give you hints on who the killer is."
"Who said this was a murder?", Lestrade hissed, and the girl laughed a short, sharp laugh.
"It's blindly obvious though! How could you not see that this is a murder? The two of us have a pretty good idea of what's going on and we haven't even hacked into her phone yet!", She smiled, and the boy groaned, his head falling into his hands.
"You know where the woman's phone is?", Sherlock asked, and the boy shook his head.
"We don't, but Little Miss Dead Body is trying to tell us how we can find out.", He looked up. "Rachel is her daughter, who died of heart failure when she was an infant.", he handed them a phone, which had a news article on it's screen. "The hospital was investigated, but it was called off after nothing came up. Rachel is also the password for the tracking system the woman had installed on her phone.", He said, and the trio looked at him; Lestrade and John with pure and utter shock, and Sherlock with discomfort. "Also the murderer's someone who can hide easily. When Sir Jeffery Patterson died, his secretary told him to get a cab. This woman's running in the rain, and, seeing that her case isn't here, she must have gotten in a cab or a car. The boy who died was found in a sports centre too far for walking distance, but a short drive in wet weather. The MP's car keys were taken out of her bag as a joke, but she wanted to get home, so she took a cab."
"Any similarity?", The girl asked, and everything snapped. John looked like he was going to faint, Lestrade was barking into his phone and Sherlock sat there, his eyes on the two teens who seemed to know it all.
"How the hell do you know that?", John whispered, and the two smiled.
"The science of deduction, of course.", The girl smiled, and Sherlock grinned.
"I could use you two. So, I was told you won't say anything of your parents.", He said, and the two stiffened. "Well then, this is interesting. Let's see how I deduce your past.", he grinned, before looking at the girl, and a mental list popped up in his head.
- Right hand twitching, used to something there (small handgun?)
- Hair tied back (practical girl)
- Clothes (jeans, light shirt, sneakers) meant for physical activity
- Tiny pinpricks in collar (badge?)
- No jewelry (hands on work)
- Slight red mark on chin (violin pad? Very nice)
- Pen marks on pinkie-side of both hands (ambidextrous?) - avid note-taker
- Slight constriction of breaths - lung infection/asthma
- Discomfort in right leg - limp/sprain/not-so-recent fracture?
- Small tattoo of a bird underneath right ear (freedom, air?)
- Small bumps on arms (?)
"You,", He pointed to the girl,"You're an ambidextrous fighter, someone in your family's taught you how to use a gun, judging by the twitching of your fingers you're used to having it on you, but you've left it somewhere, maybe at home. You wanted to travel light so you're wearing clothes a hiker would wear, even so, there are two holes for a badge. Judging by the size and space between the holes a very official badge, so one of your parents got you a place as a cadet in the police force, well done by the way. But I don't know how you'll manage with the leg, the don't like people with injuries. But, using a badge to leave, you must have come a long way. There's a tattoo of a bird, more specifically a 'Helena Hummingbird' behind your ear, possibly represents freedom, you like birds, or is a symbolic gesture of someone at home, maybe someone you loved flew away like a bird does and never came back. There's also the case of your lungs: There's been a serious injury to your lungs, and no matter how hard you try, you can't outgrow it. You play the violin, judging by the mark on your chin, and seem to have come back from a very horrifying test judging by the state of your arms.
All in all: You ran away from a privileged home and I can easily get you back by asking Lestrade to inform the rest of the police a young cadet ran away.", He said with a smirk, before leaning back and crossing his arms with a smile.
"Not bad, Mr Holmes, but you weren't entirely correct, the very end you ruined. I lost my right leg on a case with my father four years ago, and had a new one bought recently, I'm still growing into it. The 'injury' to my lungs is actually asthma, and the test was a skin prick test to check for any allergies after a near death experience involving a peanut and a goat."
"I want to watch this, this is crazy.", Lestrade smiled, hanging up his call. "I've never seen him matched by anyone."
Sherlock turned to face the boy:
- Why the hell does he look like me and John had a son?
- Similar clothes and hand gesture, but left hand (left-handed)
- Same red mark on chin (violin players, well done parents)
- Slight bulge in his jacket coat (armed x2 [girl's gun?])
- Scars & burns on hands (chemical handling [2 man team?])
- Bags under eyes (hasn't slept in about 72 hours)
- Left shoulder stiff (wound of some sort)
- Index and middle finger stiff (whenever they bend, they bend backwards [double jointed])
- Pen marks on left hand (pinkie side) More notes?
- Another badge?
- I.D in top inside pocket
- Scars on his wrists (depressed? Suicidal? Have checked out)
- House keys in pocket with I.D. (so, house keys? Wants to go home? Making a point?)
"You, young man, know this 're wearing the same clothes for the same purpose, and your hand is twitching in the same way her right does, you're left handed. Someone has also taught you how to use a gun, seeing that they twitch the same way, more likely the same person. You handle chemicals, which is strange as you also have holes for an official badge, more than likely the same kind. Then again you two might be a two-person team, one shoots the other analyses and focuses on the science. Play the violin, haven't slept in 72 hours, and you're armed."
"What the!?", Lestrade gasped.
"Shut up Lestrade, I'm talking. You're left shoulder is as stiff as John's leg, a brutal injury that's been well looked after, but still hasn't fully healed. Judging by the stiffness, it's almost there. You're double jointed in four fingers, the same ones on each hand, and have your house keys and I.D in your top pocket. There are also scars on your wrists, now, if you're depressed, you should see a doctor. In fact, we have one right here. John, I think you should talk to our friend here, he seems a little down.", Sherlock turned to the army doctor, who glared at him.
"Not bad, not bad.", He smiled,"The shoulder injury happened the same day she,", He gestured to the girl,"lost her leg. A stray bullet hit me in the shoulder, and It hurt like hell. The keys are to remind me of something, and the scars are from my pet rat, Irene."
"Who names a rat Irene?", Lestrade asked, and John shrugged.
"So, who are your parents? Look I need to know.", Sherlock asked one more time, and the pair laughed.
"Our parents are dead, silly. We're orphans.", The boy smiled, and the three men relaxed. "She's eighteen anyway, so it's fine."
"God dammit, give me your names.", Lestrade hissed, "I need names."
"I'm Marie Jones, this is my cousin, Luke.", Marie smiled, and Lestrade rubbed his temples.
"I'm sick of this. I'm leaving. No experimenting, Sherlock.", the DI said, and he walked out.
"Well, he didn't say we couldn't experiment.", Luke smiled, and Marie laughed.
"Hilarious, now give me my gun.", Her voice was stern, and Luke pulled out a beautiful pistol. It was coal black, and it's wooden grip was decorated with the image of a rose vine. The words 'Bloody Rose' were engraved in gold along the side. She noticed John staring, and smiled,"Custom made. You like her? She's got a bit of a kick, but a great gun." She slid it in the inside of her coat, and Sherlock picked up the sound of ammo boxes, making another mental note appear:
- Ammo - ready for a fight - Army? Ask John.
"So, where are you two going to stay?", John asked, and Luke smiled.
"We were thinking of a place, 221B Baker Street, wasn't it?", he turned to Marie, who nodded.
"Great.", John sighed, and Sherlock grinned.
"Well, then, this is going to be fun.", The consulting detective said, before jumping p from his seat and running off.
"Oi! Where the bloody hell are you going!?", John yelled, before limping after the man, but he was gone. "That bastard, leaving me here with you two.", he turned to face the two teens beside him, who smiled and flagged a taxi, which they got into and drove to Baker Street.
- is Sherlock's deductions.
ß is Marie's deductions.
∂ is Luke's deductions.