It was her. This was her calling card. It just screamed "Come find me!"
Violette.
Hidden, Dusk, or more commonly, Sumire, as the tabloids liked to call her.
She was almost untraceable, it ran in her blood.
A serial killer.
That's what she was. Each case was as unsolvable as the last.
And the case was handed over to Sherlock Holmes.
Each body had the word "bored" in japanese, and a small violet. Each was killed the same way, a knife shoved up, into the heart.
No weapons were ever found and no finger prints were left anywhere.
And, none of the victims were connected, had contact with each other or had anyone that would've wanted them dead. So why exactly were they being killed?
Only one man knew.
She was bored. What else was a girl to do?
They had been close once, her and her brother. But over time, she grew more distant, more cunning.
And with age she learned to manipulate, and how to lie and cheat and steal.
Because it was fun.
It staged off that boredom that hung over her head like a rainy cloud.
She could live a comfortable life if she pleased, she had people to get her that, or she could continued as she was, killing, and not getting caught.
But the few police officers who she wasn't in touch with, we're getting tired of the bodied piling up.
So naturally, Sherlock was asked to come in.
"Oh, for god's sake, do you really need me for such a boring case, Lestrade?" Sherlock asked with an annoyed frown.
"You won't think it's very boring when you look at the bodies."
"A serial killer, then? Oh, I love those."
Over all there had been ten murders, not including these recent ones.
Three bodies, in different parts of London, all in the same time frame.
The first, was Marilyn Steven. Twenty nine, married and worked as a secretary at the Bank of England.
The second, Geoff Tucker. Forty one, if he had lived another week, married, worked as a security guard, in Parliament.
And lastly, Frankie Dimartino. Thirty years old, single, unemployed.
What made this killer, Sumire, kill them?
The bodies were quickly taken to the morgue to be examined, and lined up next to one another.
"Female, the bodies weren't moved, suggesting the killer was too small to move the bodies. That or a small man." Sherlock pulled out his magnifying glass, examining the area of the wound.
"John?" The doctor walked over, looking at the stab wound as well.
"Right... Knife was thrust upwards, and into the heart... stopping it shortly after." John said, glancing at the three notes, and three violets on the near by table.
"Obviously spent sometime over seas in Japan, this is how they killed themselves to save face." Sherlock pointed out.
The flowers caught his eye as well and he gently picked them up, carefully testing their integrity.
Violette?
/\\\\\
I wrapped my coat up tighter, bracing against the cold, bitter winds.
It was getting pretty cold, especially for this time of year. The reports should be showing up soon. Let's see what their latest attempt is.
I bought a newspaper from the sleazy looking man at the end of the block, handing him the money. He smiled, and waved me off.
"Good seeing ya, Andrea." I smiled, shoving my hands back in my pockets and walking off.
I rounded the corner, making my way back to my flat. I unfolded the paper, quickly reading the summary on the Sumire case.
Sherlock Holmes on the Case!
I blinked in surprise not quite understanding what I had just read.
Sherlock?
/\\\\\
So, I'm not sure if I'm going to write more of this, what do you think? Give me your feedback!
~Kyoko-Chan