"I don't want to be the woman. I want to be the wife."
Part 1

Sherlock Holmes was lying on the couch suffering from boredom. The bullets had run out of his gun, but recharging would have taken too much effort. It was a lucky day for the wall, but not for Sherlock. Just like on a typical London day, the sun hid behind the nebulous clouds it rained cats and dogs. In this weather clients usually stayed at home. But Sherlock desperately –some would say obsessively- wanted a murder.

Suddenly, he heard the door opening as Mrs Hudson let someone in. Sherlock's eyes kindled, but he wouldn't even move his little finger. He recognised a feminine voice greeting the old lady, and in the next moment a blonde girl stepped in. Less than a minute Sherlock deducted everything about her. Her long, navy blue coat was just a slightly wet therefore she couldn't have spent much time in the rain. Clearly, she'd travelled in a taxi. She was around 23, on her shoulder a bag full of books and exercise books as she must have been a student at of the nearby universities. Sherlock noted that she dressed in style; her outfit consisting of a pair of checked, fit trousers, a black top with a blue scarf, a long cardigan and a pair of boots accompanied with simple make-up. A Londoner, obviously. Everything fit her perfectly, so the girl must have been a perfectionist judging by her appearance. She winked insensibly which meant she had glasses, but she had forgotten them, or she was too proud to wear them. The books in her bag indicated that she read a lot, maybe that was why her eyesight was not the best, or of course, it could have been inherited.

'Murder,' stated Sherlock in his characteristic deep voice.
'Obvious. What else could've made me come here in this weather?' the girl put her hands on her hips. Sherlock frowned as she wasn't exactly what he'd expected.
'What happened?' asked the detective finally.
'My neighbour was murdered.'
'It happens.'
'But the police think it was a suicide.'
'Why do you care? Was he your lover?'
'You tell me!'
Sherlock thought for no less than three seconds:
'No. You hated him. Then I ask again: why do you care?'
'Because I know that he was killed! The police don't believe me, despite the fact that I'm right. And I hate the feeling when nobody admits that I'm right.'
'In short, someone died, but you only care to be right?'
'Sounds a bit selfish, but practically… yes,' Sherlock eyed her for a second then sprung up.
'Ok, I'll take the case. I like you,' a smile hovered over the girls lips.

Two tall figures got in a cab in the heavy rain. As they travelled to the crime scene the girl said that if they were lucky, the body would be still on the ground. She left in a hurry to notify Sherlock in time. On the way to the scene she explained everything important about the man and why she believed that it wasn't a suicide. Although he was staring out of the window looking uninterested, Sherlock listened carefully. He remarked that the girl had nice observational skills, and deducted that she almost probably was obsessed with detective stories. Maybe, she was a fan of him, but she wouldn't admit it for the world. Slowly, in Sherlock's head a clearer image was taking shape of her.

The journey didn't take more than ten minutes. They arrived in Kensington, an expensive part of London. They got out the cab, Sherlock- always a gentleman- hurried to the scene, so the girl paid. The well-known yellow tape surrounded the front of the street. Sherlock easily stepped over it, so did the girl. She was tall, just 10 centimetres shorter than the detective. The officers tried to keep the on-lookers away, while the experts were working. Nobody held Sherlock up, they got used to him doing what he wanted. They knew very well that they should have asked the girl to identify herself, but they rather avoided the sociopath.

The body was still there. Sherlock immediately noticed that the angle of the fall didn't indicate a suicide. The girl looked at the corpse soberly, and examined it barely without an emotion on her face. Though, for a very brief moment she looked shocked, but it was so quick that Sherlock nearly didn't spot it. She looked much older and wiser now than she should've been. The detective realised that she had seen a dead person before. Or, maybe she was just a psychopath. Both assumptions were equally likely.
'Oh, for God's sake!' suddenly the girl grunted and turned away to the opposite direction.
'Sherlock!' a familiar voice addressed the detective. 'What are you doing here? I didn't call you. It's a simple suicide,' the silver-headed inspector addressed the detective.
'I'm with a client, George.'
'Greg!' he corrected him and his eyes fell on the blonde figure which he recognised at once. 'But, hey?! Lisbeth, what the hell are you doing here?' Lestrade's jaw fell in astonishment. The girl sighed angrily admitting she was spotted.
'I'm investigating, but it's none of your business,' she replied petulantly. Now she looked her age.
'Of course it is my business. I'm the DI. You aren't allowed to be here anyway!'
'You two know each other?' Sherlock asked the question he already knew the answer for. He just wanted to break of the argument.
'Yes, she's my niece.'

'Your niece?' Sherlock asked surprisedly, even though he suspected that they were relatives. 'I didn't know that you had a sibling.'
'You can't even learn his name,' remarked the girl.
'You have a point there… but! You haven't given me an explanation why you are here,' Lestrade harked back to the main problem.
'You two continue this family reunion while I go to work,' suggested the detective.
'No! Wait a moment, will you?' the girl laid him by the heels. 'Like I said, I'm investigating.' she turned to his uncle' You're wrong, it wasn't a suicide. But you never listen to me that's the reason why I need Sherlock's help."
'You are not a detective and you are not allowed to be here! You should be at university.'
'I haven't got classes. Please, Uncle, this can be my case!'
Sherlock cleared his throat.
'I mean, his case.'
'But-'
'The girl is right,' interrupted Sherlock 'It was a murder. You -as always- choose the easier but wrong solution. The angle is incorrect. If it had been a suicide, the body wouldn't have been here. And look at his suit, you can still see the trace where someone seized it. He was pushed.
'But-'
'And there's his shoe. On the top of the roof they were fighting and when the killer pushed him he lost one of his shoes. The killer knew that it would have been suspicious if there had been a shoe on the roof. So he went down and put the shoe on the dead man's foot. However, he made a mistake, he tied it in a different way than the victim,' the girl proved enthusiastically. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, he was caught by surprise that she noticed the lace.
'He?' was the only thing Lestrade questioned.
'Apparently. If he had fought with a woman he wouldn't have ended up dead. And a woman wasn't able to touch the body, or if she did, she would have paid attention to the lace,' Sherlock explained.
'Yeah, because women pay attention to details,' added the girl smiling.
'Why are you arguing with me Lestrade? You could wait for the autopsy which will show you evidence of scuffle.'
'Okay, 'sighed the DI, 'then do whatever you want. Don't smirk Lisbeth, I'll have a world with you later.'

'You said you had known him,' stated Sherlock while he was examining the body. 'More specifically you hated him. You live here. And you'd noticed the lace. A bit suspicious, don't you think?'
'Yeah, and after the murder I went to get help from you to put me in jail,' she rolled her navy eyes. 'I thought you might be better.'
'I didn't say you killed him.'
'And I didn't.'
'Obvious. You're smart. If you had killed him, you would have been more careful. Although you still could be a psychopath. You could've murdered him, then solved the case, and became famous because you were seen with me. And nobody would ever suspect the DI's niece.'
'It sounds quite simple and brilliant. I should've done it. Next time… perhaps I will.'
'Don't do it.'
'Why?'
'Because I'd have to catch you.'
'Sounds more appealing,' as the girl cocked her eye at him, a ghost of a smile flashed upon Sherlock's face. He went back to analysing the body while the girl casted a sidelong glance at him. So far so good-she thought, took a deep breath and started talking casually:
'Now that John's married he hasn't got as much free time. You are in need of a new companion.'
'I assume it should be you,' Sherlock carried on the conversation in the same casual tone, not looking up.
'Yeah,' she replied without hesitation trying really hard not reveal her excitement and inner fangirl.
'But you're so-'
'What? Young, unseasoned, not clever enough?' Lisbeth cut in with a bit of frustration in her voice.
'Woman,' Sherlock groaned out.
'What? And what's wrong with that? I thought you don't care about what people say.'
'I don't. However, I am not interested in women.'
'I know, but John's married,' winked the girl with a smirk.

Sherlock frowned as the girl leered at him. Shaking his head he went back to work. corpse was middle aged man in bad condition: hands indicating a smoker, overweight causing heart problems. Judging by his clothes he was wealthy, also it was obvious given the neighbourhood. Sherlock found a wallet in the dead man's left pocket. All the money and credit cards were in it. As the detective expected he had a hoard of cash and some cheques. He was carrying several kinds of split rings.
'He was the landlord,' stated the raven-haired figure and looked questioningly at the blonde one. 'You didn't say it.'
'Because it was obvious besides I knew that you'd find out in the first minute.'
'You're not much help.'
'Why should I bore you with irrelevant details which you'll find out anyway?'
'You have a point there,' admitted Sherlock. and went through the victim's pockets.
'Something is missing, isn't it? His phone!'
'Yes. He kept all his valuables close because he feared that it would be stolen. Money, credit cards, keys he's got everything, but where's his phone?'
'The killer'd taken it. There was information on it which we could somehow connect him with the vic.'
Sherlock didn't answer just nodded. The girl wasn't pleased. She didn't manage to impress him.
'Look! One of the keys is missing,' pointed out the detective.'16. Do you know the person who lives there?'
'Yes. And actually, there was a burglary a few days ago. The CCTVs were hacked, but nothing was stolen,' Sherlock couldn't help but smile.
'I'm beginning to like this case.'
'So, am I of any use then?' she asked, grinning widely.
'We could say that. Let's have a look at the flat. Now I know why you didn't like him.'
'Yeah, I couldn't pay this month's rent. I asked for a week, but he threatened me with eviction.'
'Your parents are wealthy. Why don't they pay it?'
'My father is well-off. And I'd rather be homeless than to get help from him.'
'Father issues. Typical,' the detective rolled his ice blue eyes.
'Never mind. At least I could join your homeless network,' the girl joked, but Sherlock certainly didn't smile.
'The owner isn't at home. The lights are off,' the detective looked up at the window.
'It means that we have to wait. Or we could break in.'
'No,' disagreed Sherlock, 'we have to wait until he comes home. Till then I'll return to Baker Street. Text when he gets home,' he gave her his number and dashed away.
The girl bowed dutifully, but she was very pleased with herself that she received Sherlock's number. If was for the case of course, but she had to begin somewhere.