SHERLOCK - PINK, WRITTEN BY DR J WATSON
AN: Hey everyone. I thought I might go a little further with the picture painting, since last chapter was just a prologue. Please review so I know what you think. I apologise for any mistakes I might have made. Thank you, Enjoy :)
...~~PWBDJW~~...
OCTOBER 12th
A man was out of work and on the phone to his 'secretary'.
"What do you mean, there's no ruddy car?"
"He went to Waterloo, sorry. You'll have to get a cab..."
"You know I don't get cabs."
"...I love you," she had to whisper.
"When?"
"Get. A. Cab," she giggled.
That was the last she heard from him alive. The man was found dead at the top of an empty skyscraper. Next, the woman stood witnessing a hearing, as the man's wife chokingly spook of his supposed suicide.
"My husband was a very happy man. He lived life to its fullest. He loved his family and his work, and that he should have taken his own life this way is a mystery and a sudden shock to all who knew him.
The woman standing away from the cameras shed a tear she knew she shouldn't have.
NOVEMBER 26th
Two teens walked down the dark street in heavy rain. One of the boys tried to flag down an available taxi that ignored them and drove on by.
"I'll be two minutes, mate..."
"What?"
"Just running back home to get my umbrella." The boy was already drenched away.
"But you can share mine-" The other boy with the brolly called out over the roar of the rain.
"Just two minutes!"
The boy with the umbrella waited for that time and longer, but he never saw his friend alive again. The boy was found dead in a closed sports centre.
JANUARY 27th
A party was being held in honour of a business woman's birthday. Her work colleagues kept an eye on her because she was so obviously drunk.
"Is she still dancing?!"
"Yeah, if you call it dancing!"
"Did you get her car keys off her?"
"From her bag..." the woman waved the keys in front of them both.
The woman in question had gone outside with the intention of driving home, not finding her keys. But when they looked around for her, she had vanished all the same. "Hang on, where is she?"
She was found dead in a remote building site.
...~~PWBDJW~~...
At a Press hearing, Scotland Yard were giving a report about the recent deaths, where an average middle aged, mousey haired man named Lestrade sat idle to Sergeant Donovan reading out what they knew.
"The body of Beth Davenport, junior Minister for Transport, was found dead late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was a suicide, and we can confirm that this apparent one resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. In the lights of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take the questions you have now."
The room filled with snaps of cameras and shouts of the press, and arms waved in the air frantically like a class of school kids competing to answer a maths question.
"Detective Inspector," one man called out, "how can suicides be 'linked'?"
"They all took the same poison. They all were found in places they would have no reason to be in. None of them had shown any prior indication that-"
"But you can't have serial suicides, can you."
"Well, in terms of recent events, apparently you can."
Another reporter spoke out. "These three people, is there anything that links them?"
"There's no link yet that we've found, but we are looking for it. There has to be one." Then all at once, everyone's phone beeped and jingled, and they all went to answer their texts.
They all read 'Wrong!'.
Sergeant Donovan received hers as well. "Err, if you have all just got texts, please ignore them. I know what they say, but please just ignore that." There were murmurs going around the room as the woman tried to talk above them. "If there are no more questions for the Detective Inspector, I'm going to bring this session to an end."
"If they are suicides, what exactly are you investigating then?"
Lestrade answered, "These suicides are clearly linked, like I said. It is an unusual situation, I admit, and we've got our best people on the case." More beeps from everyone's phones. 'Wrong!'
"Only one more question now", the sergeant called out, trying to steer the subject away from the mysterious texter.
One more reporter raised their hand, "Is there a chance that these are murders? And if so, could it be a serial killer?"
"Look, I know you like to write about this, but they are suicides, as they appear. We do know the difference. The poison was clearly self-administered..."
"-But if they are murders, how do people keep safe?"
"Well- don't commit suicide," Lestrade exclaimed. After a whisper from Donovan that who was addressing him was from the Daily Mail, he realised he would have to give more. "This is obviously a frightening time for people, but as usual all anyone has to do is take reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be-" BEEP!
'Wrong!'
Lestrade, one the other hand, got a different text: 'You know where to find me. SH'. With a sigh, he thanked the press and left with the sergeant following closely after.
"You have got to stop him from doing that, " she said as they walked. "He's making us look bad."
"If you can tell him how he's doing it, I will."
...~~PWBDJW~~...
Joann limped through the park, wincing with every step and hating the feel of eyes on her. She felt ridiculous and weak. She shouldn't be disabled at her time of life. It's not like it existed anyway. Carrying on with her painful walk to nowhere in particular, she passed a chubby man sat on a bench near the path that she knew from a few years back before going off with the army.
He recognised her on sight though fortunately and called out as he got up.
"Joann? Joann! Doctor Watson!"
The woman in question turned to him in confusion as she struggled to place the face.
"Stamford? Mike Stamford. We were at St Barts together."
"Oh yes, sorry. Yes, Mike, hi," she took the hand outstretched to shake. "My god, um-"
The man chuckled "Yeah, yeah I know, I got fat. I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at, so what happened?"
Joann stared at him and silently gestured to the cane as if to politely say 'duuuh'. "... I got shot."
...~~PWBDJW~~...
A bit of time later and they were both sat on the park bench sipping coffee.
"Are you still at Barts then?"
"Yeah, I'm teaching now. Bright young things like you. Though these ones are worse. God I hate 'em." They laughed. "What about you then? Just staying here until you get sorted?"
"I can't afford London on my army pension..."
"And you couldn't be to be anywhere otherwise. That's not the Joann Watson I know."
"Yeah well, I'm not her anymore..." she said deadpan as she looked own at her left hand, flexing it.
"Couldn't your Harry help?"
Joann scoffed "Yeah like that's going to happen."
"You could... I don't know, get a flatshare or something?"
"Oh come on, who'd have me for a flatmate?"
This time her friend scoffed. Joann looked at him. Did he agree? "What is it?"
"You are the second person to say that to me today."
"Right... so who was the first?"
...~~PWBDJW~~...
AN: Hoped you like this. Next time Joann will meet 'him'. If I get enough encouragement that is. Please review so I know whether to go on or not. Ta, see ya :)