"He made a mistake."
"I thought that would be your reaction."
The light blue knife pinned a bag crisps and a magazine to the coffee table. The victim had instead been killed by a quick bullet to the head.
"With a bullet we now can trace his gun. We've got him; it's only a matter of time. But if you can speed the process, Sherlock, please do."
John took notes as Sherlock talked and Lestrade added asides about the victim.
The man, unemployed, fit one or two of the previous characteristics. There was a link somewhere. Sherlock was, in the meantime, dissecting the staging of the knife.
"-and the remote nearby."
"So he's protesting the man's leisure?"
"That would be my guess," said Lestrade.
"Anderson, your opinion? Nevermind it's stupid. The killer is trying to tell us something. There is a message. He went back to a blue knife. It's not a cycle, though; otherwise the victim would match the first man's characteristics."
John coughed. "But it's not the same blue."
"Yes, yes, I know."
"If you're done, Sherlock, we have a killer to catch."
"I'll get my coat."
Lestrade shook his head. "No. You go figure out the connection. Off you go."
Sherlock growled but complied, dragging John with him. "Edith had better have gotten milk."
"I didn't get the milk."
Sherlock and John stared at Irene. "Why not?" asked John finally.
"I left the apartment to get some, but then I ran into Mrs. Hudson and we got talking. Then her friend came over with the new kitten and one thing ran into another and then you came home."
"Well, I'll go get some milk then," John began cautiously. "Does anyone need anything else?"
"Yes. I need a cherry for an experiment. Buy a bag of fresh ones."
Irene chuckled.
"What?"
"Oh," she purred, looking at Sherlock. "It's nothing. I just haven't had a cherry in a long time. But they're so much fun to pop! in your mouth. Can I have yours, Sherlock?"
John sighed.
Sherlock turned on his heels and walked out of the apartment without a word.
Sherlock found the bit of solace he wanted on the streets, far from confusing women and John. What was it like in their silly brains that they'd-
An arm wrapped around his neck, pressing a cloth to his mouth.
Sedative. Chloroform. Fight back.
But it was too late and-