Chapter 4

Sherlock, John, and Brittney all rode in the taxi on the way to the crime scene Lestrade mentioned. Honestly, Brittney was scared. How would she react? How would she be of use? It's not like she was as great as Sherlock at reading people. He was amazing. Brittney had never met someone who could analyze anything as well as she could and sometimes it seems like he's better at it.

"Don't psych yourself out just yet. You barely know him." She thought to herself. "Just look at the crime scene, analyze, don't feel anything, you can do this. Kinda like when at basic." Her peptalk to herself was a little to bring up her mood, but not a lot.

When the taxi came to a stop, John paid the driver and the trio was off. Sherlock grabbed the gloves and lifted the tape so that John and Brittney could make it under. Lestrade walked up to them.

"Are you okay to be doing this? You're very young you know. Wouldn't want to scar you." Lestrade only wanted to make sure the girl was okay. Brittney sensed his worry and decided to smile at him. Then with out a word, headed towards the room.

As soon as Brittney saw the body, her heard started racing. The woman was laying face down but with one arm, her right arm, twisted backwards and tied there. Her face was turned to the left, mouth open in a silent scream. In the womans right hand was a piece of crumple paper, just barely visible. In fact Brittney was sure that Lestrades team hadn't seen it yet.

As Brittney observed, she managed to take focus on the little details. The mother was left handed, as shown by the pen marks from writing before. She had dyed her hair from a deep brunette to a lighter blondish brown, possibly to cover her greys. From her slacks and blouse, she was either on her way to work or at work when she was abducted. Smaller blonde hairs, quite possibly her daughter's hair, was stuck to the sleeves of her cardigan.

Finally Brittney brought herself to look from the womans body to the room she was in. Scratched into the wall was a riddle, signed "M". She wondered if it could be her uncle behind this. It's what seemed most likely. On the floor was boot scuffs, the pattern of them one she memorized quite well. Combat boots. What would someone be doing in combat boots?

Sherlock spoke, snapping her out of her thoughts. She realized she had made all the observations in the five or ten seconds she was in the room before everyone else. "John, examine the body find a cause of death. Drugs, wounds, anything. Brittney, make as much observstions as you need and, if you can, try not to touch anything. They get angry when you do that."

"Sherlock, in her right hand is a crumpled piece of paper. I didn't want to touch it but it looks like no one has noticed it yet. And the scuff marks from the shoes over there are from American made army combat boots. The same ones they issued us at basic. Why would someone in London have American made boots?" Brittney blurted out before she could stop herself. She saw Sherlock smirk and Lestrade's jaw drop. Too late, in her excitement, she forgot to mask her American accent.

"This woman had air injected into her bloodstream, causing her to die immediately, Sherlock. But not before she was beaten horribly. Sherlock, she died trying to keep a secret." John said, filling the silence.

"Right, well let me have a look then. Brittney come here. Tell me what you see." Sherlock beckoned her over, as if testing how close Brittney was willing to go to make a deduction. With difficulty, she managed to kneel down across from him without hurting her hip. Upon further investigation, she saw the bruises that John had mentioned. Her lower lip was split, as well as a gash across the bridge of her nose. There were friction burns on her left wrist from her restraints and what looked to be a thin cut on her neck, maybe from a razor blade.

"Can someone hand me some gloves please? I need to see something!" She called out. Under the stomach there was an envelope, just the corner of it peaking out. Lestrade handed her gloves and delicately she tugged the envelope out from under the mothers body. "It's addressed to Sherlock and John..." She said confused. Before she could say anything else, Lestrade snatched it out of her hand and sent it to Scotland Yard to be x-rayed.

Next was the task of figuring out how to get the paper out of her hand. That one was more difficult. Brittney didn't want to touch the body, but had no other choice. Delicately, she worked the crumpled ball out of the woman's hand and smoothed it out. On the paper was the picture of a little blonde hair, blue eyed girl. She was bound and gagged, crying. Someone wrote on the top "Can you figure out how to find me Sherlock?"

Realization hit her like a train. Whoever killed this woman thought that this was a game. A horrible game. Brittney couldn't take much more of what she was seeing. She struggled to get up, hip stiff at this point. After a loud pop she was able to straighten it.

"Um... if you need me, I'll be outside. I need fresh air and to stretch the leg. Sorry..." As fast as she could, Brittney left the room. Left her first crime scene and definitely the first body she's ever seen. Flashes of the scene played in her mind as she tried to make it out. Why was her non-dominant hand tied behind her back? What is in the envelope addressed to Sherlock and John? Was "M" Moriarty? Brittney wanted nothing more than to run. She wished she didn't have the stupid cane.

"Brittney? You alright?" John asked, causing Brittney to jump.

"Jesus! Could you have been any quieter? You scared me!" She exclaimed, before looking down, unsure of what to say.

"I know that this is horrible, I know. Trust me, I'm a military doctor. I've seen a lot worse. I don't want to say you'll get used to it, but it does get easier. C'mon, it's time to go back to the flat. You can rest and we will figure out what to do from there. But if you don't want to help with the case, I will understand. I'm not so sure abut Sherlock though. He may push you a bit, but if you really don't want anything to do with it, put your foot down, okay?" John looked so worried.

"It's not me I'm worried about John. It's that child. That poor little girl who has to grow up wondering what happened to mummy. Why couldn't she save mummy? That little innocent child has had her family ripped apart! It's not fair!"

By this time, Brittney was shaking and she couldn't stop. John hugged her to him to comfort her. She pulled out of the hug and gave a strained smile. "I'm alright now, thank you. Let's go home, Dr. Watson."