Finally the court date came and Sherlock and John were waiting in the corridor as Beryl and her daughter, rounded the corner with the barrister.
Sherlock was eyeing them with an appraising air. "What is it?" John hissed in his ear.
"I hear that Beryl is supporting her daughter in a plea of not guilty. What happened to 'I want her to get help'? You'll note a distinct lack of madness emanating from her. And look how chummy they are..."
The two women were walking closely together, almost arm in arm and grinned over at the men when they saw them. Cathy was looking anything but deranged, in a pastel suit and with her hair in a neat bob. They seemed to have completely abandoned their plea of 'not guilty by reason of insanity' or she'd be playing up the wild-eyed look.
Beryl strode over, when she saw the two men standing there looking bemused. She had a triumphant look on her face.
"Changed your mind about getting a dangerous woman off the streets, Beryl," Sherlock hissed.
"Are you sure, Sherlock? Are you really sure which of us did it? You're usually so definite, but I can see the hesitation in your eyes - reasonable doubt. And if you're not sure, then how sure do you think that jury will be?"