We walk down into the pit and I can tell he's waiting for an explanation. "Sherlock Holmes. Here. I can't believe it." I whisper quietly to myself and shake my head, dispelling as many negative thoughts as possible. "Look, I know you want some sort of explanation, and I'd love to give you the whole story, but this case goes years back so I'm going to keep it short." I don't wait for him to reply and begin explaining while I still can. "About fifty years ago, a maidservant in the manor woke up with a crimson ribbon tied to her neck and an manilla envelope folded into her hand. The letter said, 'We are coming for you. We will have our revenge. We will slit your throats one by one until you return what is ours.' it was signed with three large S's. The envelope was addressed to The Rosen Estate and her ribbon was stamped with a small black 360. Exactly 15 days later she was found in her bed with her throat slit and her neck running red, a new ribbon with a stamped 0 tied around her wound. The story was hushed up, and the police were never called. The Rosen family had a reputation to uphold. All new staff were hired and the story forgotten or thought of as local myth. That wasn't the only time though, in these past fifty years 13 girls have been killed. Each death far enough apart that people didn't actually realise the problem. Until me. Until the past year. 3 girls have been killed in the past year, one of them killed here, yesterday. All of the victims were found with a ribbon tied on their neck and a number stamped on it." I pause here, choking on air and feeling my breath catch in my chest. I hear her screaming, so loud, so close. I fall into a curled mess on the ground and cover my ears, screaming with every ounce of my being, yelling and screeching at the sky. I close my eyes and I watch as the sharp knife glints in the moonlight as it quickly and harshly cuts through her delicate skin. Sobs rack through my narrow frame as I pound on the ground with clenched fists . "Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it" I scream in a steady chant. And thens he's holding me and I feel safe suddenly. His smell is so familiar and comforting, I breathe it in with deep breaths and press my face into his shoulder. He feels awkward with his arms around me but doesn't say anything and doesn't let go. I sob into his coat for a few more minutes until I get the scream out of my head, replaced by his gentle shhhh-ing as he strokes my hair and rocks me slightly. I finally quiet down and neither of us say anything. I just sit beside him, wrapped up in his arms and let us sit there, in the bottom of the pit. To calm my mind I perform a simple exercise. I look at him and make some observations, challenging my brain to make as many deductions as possible. "Shower this morning; new soap; played violin for 3, no 4, hours; slept on the couch again, only for an hour; worked in the morgue today; Mrs. Hudson messed up the sock drawer again..." I trail off because he is looking at me with slightly impressed eyes. I remember then that he does this all the time, making grand deductions from all sorts of details, that it's his job and that he does it so much better than me. I blush at my feeble attempts of deduction. He opens his mouth to speak and I know that the question is coming. "She was my friend, Beth. She was killed here last night. She- she wouldn't listen to me when I told her about the ribbon. She called it superstition. She said that it was just a myth. I tried to tell her about the 2 other girls before her this year but she wouldn't believe me. She said it was just a joke. She had a 72. Last night, we were riding up here to get away. She was gonna take a vacation day and we were going to spend the night in this abandoned barn just on the other side of this pit. She insisted on going exploring down here, so we left the horses tied up on that tree. We came down to that area right over there and that's when they came out. They grabbed her and forced her hands behind her back. They held this long knife up to her throat, and they killed her. They just killed her. I wa hiding behind some bushes but I guess they saw me because this morning I woke up with this." I pull the collar of my jacket down and point at the crimson ribbon tied to my neck. "What's the number?" he asks me quietly. I don't mind the question very much because it's better than the question, the one I barely avoided having to answer. "48," I tell him in an almost whisper. "You have two days don't you." It wasn't a question. He had figured it out quickly. The numbers were always in increments of 24, more specifically the 24 hours in a day. I have 48 hours. 2 days. He moves away and starts examining the crime scene. Occasionally he pulls out a small magnifying glass and examines a patch of dirt or some bark on a tree. I don't say anything and I don't ask any questions. He spends 7 minutes looking around before brushing past me and walking out of the pit. I follow and we mount on to Eunoia and ride back in silence, all the joy of the ride left back on the ground where I had cried. The ride was quick and silent. I let Eunoia gallop all the way to the barn before pulling her to a quick stop. Sherlock slid off stiffly and I jump down and lead Eunoia into her stall. I give her a quick rubdown and put on a light blanket. We walk back up to the estate and we find John waiting for us on the from steps with his head in his hands. "Sherlock!" he jumps up when he sees us emerge from the fog. "This case... I don't know Sherlock. It seems complicated." "I hardly think so John." he responds with a tone of confidence while the light dances on his raven black hair. My life is in good hands. I smile tiredly and walk up to stand beside them. "He'll take you home, or wherever it is you need to go now," I say as I point at my friend's shiny black cab that has pulled up. "We'll have this solved soon, don't worry Miss...?" John trails off as he realises he doesn't even know the name of the girl who's hires him. I open the door of the cab and let them slide in before I extend my hand to John. "Lara. Lara Holmes." With that I slam the door and the cab pulls away, leaving them with another mystery to solve.
