Ch. 2
That night, Sherlock and John took a cab to the graveyard. They walked steadily toward the vacant casket that Tony Kepler was meant to occupy.
Sherlock pulled out his magnifier from his coat pocket and observed the inner cushioning and edges of the coffin. A few minutes passed.
"Anything I can do?"
"No."
"…Then why did you invite me here?"
"It was just an invitation - meaning it wasn't mandatory. Meaning it could be declined," Sherlock replied sternly. "Besides, I can enjoy an audience sometimes, can't I?"
John lowered his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, are you suggesting that all I should do is stand around and watch?"
"No, of course not… Although that's just the frailty of genius, it needs an audience."
He gave Sherlock an annoyed look, although he was too focused on his work to glance back. "Yes, yes, I suppose it does… So, this was all a waste of my time, then?"
Sherlock glared at him from the corner of his eye, but didn't answer.
John inhaled deeply and irritably. "I'm going back to the flat."
"Have fun!" Sherlock replied, mockingly.
John only marched away as Sherlock remained focused on his observations.
At least 20 minutes later, Sherlock was still working his way around the coffin when suddenly he thought he heard the startling sound of a woman shrieking in the far, far distance. He paused and listened. But Sherlock didn't hear anything more.
He simply went on with his work, supposing he just needed more sleep. Besides, if the scream were in fact real, the source of the shrieking would probably turn up in a case somewhere along his way.
Although, not long after, he started to hear the sound of leaves crunching on the ground.
The sound was moving closer, and closer. Louder and louder. As if someone were walking toward him through the scatters of autumn leaves.
Who the hell would be out here this late? Sherlock thought. Then he realized just who it might be.
Sherlock stood up and sighed, "Okay, John. I apologize for my snide comment earli - "
A bloody, battered, freshly deceased body was tossed in front of him, making a sickly mixture of a crack and a thump noise as it impacted the ground.
Baffled, and a little reluctant, Sherlock slowly turned up his head.
It wasn't John.
It was Tony Kepler