Kitty and Sherlock left Angelo's just as the city began to wake up and sleepy morning commuters filled the streets. They returned to 221 B just as John was stumbling out of his room to take his morning shower.
"Where were you two?" He mumbled in a rough voice that made Kitty grin.
"Out." Sherlock replied tersely as he pulled off his coat and threw it onto the couch. He was in a particularly grumpy mood for some reason.
"We were at Angelo's." Kitty clarified. She wasn't even going to bother telling Sherlock to be nice.
"It's only- 5:45 in the morning. When did you leave?" Kitty could tell that John wasn't a morning person
"I don't know. I just couldn't sleep, so Sherlock took me out to eat." Kitty sent a cheery smile John's way and scooted past him into the Kitchen. John looked at Sherlock quizzically.
"You took her to Angelo's for your first date? Really, Sherlock?" John sounded exasperated.
"It wasn't a date! It was a meal shared between two adults, nothing more." Sherlock grumbled in a childish tone.
"Tomayto Tomahto!" Kitty chimed from the kitchen, repeating her earlier sentiment. She thought it was ridiculous how touchy Sherlock was about rhetoric. She knew that Sherlock would be Sherlock, however, and she didn't mind if he was awkward about it. John shook his head and sighed before shuffling into the bathroom and shutting the door.
"Was it really that awful?" Sherlock asked as he joined Kitty in the kitchen. He sounded mildly unsure of himself, despite his obvious attempt to hide it. Kitty shook her head and began scrubbing the dishes that had piled up during her short absence.
"I loved it, Sherlie, don't let anybody make you think otherwise." She shook one of her loose hairs out of her face and yawned quietly. Sherlock stood and watched Kitty as she washed the dishes, completely ignoring the fact that she was once again soaking her bandages.
"Why on earth are you doing that?" Sherlock asked, honestly curious. He never did dishes; they just seemed to somehow manage to clean themselves and reappear in the cupboards.
"So my poor Gran won't have to." Kitty answered with a smile. "Besides, it makes me feel helpful." She grabbed a plate and began scrubbing it. Sherlock fell silent and was content with watching Kitty. She swayed side to side as though she were listening to a song no one else could hear and her hazel eyes pointed straight ahead at the blank wall. Sherlock liked that he could observe her without getting dirty looks. Most women would become offended if he would observe them for too long, but Kitty just went about her business.
"See something you like?" Kitty teased after a few minutes of Sherlock's silence.
"How did you know I was looking?" Sherlock gave a small tired grin at her sass.
"I can feel those eyes, Sherlock." She answered with a wry smile. It was true. Somehow she just knew when he was looking at her.
"That's impossible." Sherlock mumbled, not satisfied with her answer. Kitty just grinned in a knowing way and shrugged her response. After a moment she paused in what she was doing and her face morphed from happy to thoughtful.
"What color are your eyes, Sherlock?" A memory of a dream she'd had days ago popped into her head and she felt extremely curious.
"Blue I suppose." Sherlock found himself surprisingly unbothered by having to answer such a trivial question. "Why?"
"I had a dream about a man with blue eyes the other night." She returned to her scrubbing. "I just remember his eyes though." She blinked a few times, trying to recall what had happened in her dream, then she blushed as it came back to her.
"Really?" Sherlock found his interest piqued.
"Yeah." Kitty began to clean with a bit more industry and tried to look focused. Sherlock smirked at the way she attempted to hide her embarrassment from him.
"Did he do anything to you I ought to be jealous of?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Kitty and watched as she donned a cheeky smile. She was going to use his interest against him.
"Oh he did everything you should be jealous of." Kitty was pleased when she heard a small groan from Sherlock. For the moment she had an upper hand.
"I think I'd like to kill him." Sherlock grumbled. Kitty laughed outright and shook her head.
"You'll have your chance, big boy." Kitty teased as she reached for the last dish in the sink. She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her stomach and soft lips press against her neck.
"I would like to remind you that I am a man not a boy." Sherlock growled into her ear. Kitty shivered and set the dish back down.
"Believe me, I know." Kitty murmured as she tilted her head away from him, instinctively bearing her neck to him. Sherlock grinned and pressed another possessive kiss to her throat. He was unfamiliar with the unbearable desire to make her his, and nobody else's.
"I have another condition." Sherlock murmured against her skin. Kitty shivered a bit, but responded clearly.
"And what might that be?" She felt a bit flustered. She still wasn't used to his touch. It felt like some sort of forbidden fruit that nobody was supposed to have.
"During our… agreement… you will not let any other man touch you, the way that I do." Sherlock's tone did not leave room for questions, however Kitty's response surprised him.
"Of course not." She blurted out as though his request had been amusing. Kitty felt Sherlock tense up and begin to pull away. He was curling back up into his shell and it made her panic. She had said the wrong thing. "I mean that I would never hurt you that way." She clarified in a much more reasonable voice. Sherlock paused and she heard him grunt in approval. Just then Sherlock's cellphone began to ring and he moved away from Kitty to answer it.
"Holmes." He answered in a haughty tone. Kitty raised her eyebrows and gave a small grin. He was such a peacock.
"We'll be there in half an hour." Sherlock unceremoniously ended the call and rapped on the bathroom door. "Lestrade has a case for us! Hurry up!" Kitty set down the last dish and dried her hands on a dish rag.
"Do you want me to pick up any groceries while you guys are out?" Kitty asked as she began fiddling with the loose bit of wet bandage that kept tickling the back of her hand. Sherlock looked at her like she had a third head.
"You're coming with us." Sherlock stated as if it was plain as the nose on her face.
"Oh." Kitty didn't hide her surprise. "Ok."
True to Sherlock's word they were there within an half hour. John and Sherlock ushered Kitty through the commotion of forensic teams and forensic photographers and the like. The smell of Lestrade's woodsy cologne preceded him and Kitty smiled in the direction he was coming from.
"Hello, Greg." Kitty almost laughed when Greg let out a surprised grunt.
"I guess you're part of the team now, then?" Greg asked as he joined the trio and led them towards what Kitty could only assume was the scene of the crime.
"You found her that way?" Sherlock interjected and sped up, reaching the body before anyone else. She was strung upside down from a fire escape ladder.
"Well we certainly didn't put her up there." Lestrade groused. Sherlock pointed a glare at Lestrade and returned to his examination of the corpse. He was silent, as he deduced everything he could about the girl. "She's a Jane Doe, no wallet or I.D."
"Why haven't you cut her down?" John asked, sounding a bit flummoxed.
"Sherlock would have thrown a tantrum." Kitty guessed, and when no one debated her answer she figured she was right. "Where is she John?" Kitty asked, curious as to why everyone seemed so disturbed by the position of the corpse.
"She's hanging from a fire escape. " John clarified. Kitty grimaced.
"By her neck?" Kitty wanted to know the details, because if she was going to be there she wanted to help. John shook his head and then remembered that Kitty couldn't see him.
"No, by her knees and elbows, she's upside down." John didn't sound bothered by her questions, so Kitty continued.
"How do you plan to get her down?" Kitty asked in Lestrade's direction.
"That's not my department, Anderson take's care of the bodies." Lestrade explained. Kitty nodded. Sherlock moved away from the corpse and returned to his colleagues.
"Cut her down, I'd like for Kitty and John to examine her now." Sherlock spoke with an air of authority that didn't leave room for questions. Kitty shivered in the chill morning breeze and frowned. She'd never examined a human body before. Animals, yes, she was a biologist for god's sake but what Sherlock thought she would be able to get from a human body she didn't know. Lestrade must have given a gesture because suddenly the area was teaming with people and orders were being given by a man with a nasal voice that was unsettling to Kitty. After a few minutes there was a crash and Kitty heard a sickening crunching sound as the body hit the ground.
"For Christ's sake Anderson! You're supposed to preserve the evidence not defile it!" Sherlock snapped; Kitty couldn't agree more. John took her arm and led her over to where the body had landed. Kitty began to concentrate. She could smell several things at once and when John released her she took her time sifting through the scents. They were in an alley somewhere, she could hear traffic but it was a ways off and the noise of it echoed off of walls that were close around them. She could smell garbage, and exhaust. The sweet smell of fallen rain tickled her nose. Then there were the familiar smells, John's spicy after shave, and Sherlock's Old Spice. Traces of other men's cologne were left behind as well, then kitty smelled it; A light floral scent, probably lilac or lavender.
"John, show me where she is." Kitty held out her hand and waited as John took it and pointed it to the body. Kitty nodded. "Any gloves for me?" She asked, feeling the latex gloves on John's hands.
"Are we going to let just any Sally off the street touch the evidence now?" The man named Anderson.
"Shut up, Anderson." John and Sherlock snapped at the same time. Kitty raised her eyebrows and wondered if the man would respond. He just slapped a pair of gloves into her outstretched hands and grunted. Kitty brushed his negative mood out of her mind and pulled the gloves on as she knelt down. She kept the latex as tight over her finger tips as she could so that she would be able to feel.
"No signs of asphyxiation, no ligature marks except the ones from her bonds." John began, Kitty nodded and began examining the woman with her sense of touch. Her skin was cold and clammy, probably from the rain… but her clothing was dry. Kitty furrowed her brows together.
"John, how far gone is she?" Kitty asked as her hand found the spot on the woman's bare arm where the ropes had dug into her flesh. She wasn't wearing a coat.
"Hard to say, she hasn't gone into rigor yet, but she's too cold to be so fresh." John sounded bewildered. Kitty kneaded the mark on the woman's arm gently. Something wasn't right, her flesh was still soft, and the skin where the ropes had dug in was puffy… it was almost warm. Then she felt it, the faintest beat beneath the woman's skin.
"Oh, my god." Kitty breathed. She leaned down and pressed her ear to the woman's chest, much to Anderson's outrage.
"Shut up!" She commanded and everyone fell silent, probably from surprise. She listened with all her might and gasped when she heard the slightest breath stir in the woman's chest. It could have been a breeze to anyone else listening but Kitty could hear the drag of the cold air against the woman's esophagus.
"She's still breathing!" Kitty yelped in horror. John was instantly put into action Kitty couldn't see what he was doing but whatever he was doing she trusted it was the right thing.
"That's impossible! I pronounced her dead myself!" Anderson yelled, trying more desperately to defend his good name than to help the woman at their feet. Kitty was immediately enraged.
"Get your ass in gear and help her!" She barked at him. "You've fucked up enough already! The least you can do is fix your mess!" Kitty turned to John and listened to him count.
"What can I do?" She asked, wanting to help and not feel useless. Then Sherlock was kneeling beside her.
"Continue examining her." He commanded. Kitty pointed her eyes at him dumbfounded.
"What?" She couldn't believe him.
"The moment she's put into the ambulance any evidence will be completely destroyed and her attacker will go free, I need you to examine her." Sherlock urged taking Kitty's hands and pressing them to the woman's body. Kitty felt ill but she forced herself to do as he said. Kitty's hands ran over the woman's clothes. Sequins and cheap polyester scratched at her gloves. Her skirt was short, and pulled up even higher than the woman would have worn it. She'd been out clubbing. The smell of alcohol tickled Kitty's nose, it had been stirred up when John began CPR and Kitty knew the woman must have been heavily intoxicated. Kitty focused on the smell, trying to pin where she had smelled it before. It hit her like a brick, it was a very expensive wine her mother loved to serve at her parties. Kitty frowned, it cost more than $400 a bottle.
"Where is the nearest club?" Kitty asked trying to put together as much information as she could.
"Three blocks away." Sherlock answered. Kitty nodded and moved to feel the woman's heels. She wasn't wearing any shoes. Kitty was baffled by that but she moved quickly onto something else. There was a long rip in the woman's skirt, it was ragged and not part of the design, it had been torn. Kitty frowned and pulled her hands away from the woman. She had pieces of a horrible story and she didn't want to know anymore.
"I'm done." She scrambled to her feet and backed away. She felt like she was going to be sick. Greg patted her shoulder in the way a man would reassure another man.
"Alright now, Sherlock, you've had your fun, what did you two find." Greg demanded as he ushered Kitty away from where John and Anderson were desperately trying to revive the woman. Sherlock followed behind them on his long legs.
"She was a message." Sherlock stated in his haughty voice
"Someone got her drunk, and raped her." Kitty spat in disgust.
"How'd you know she didn't get herself drunk?" Lestrade asked. "Couldn't she just be a victim of opportunity?"
"No." Kitty shook her head. "She couldn't possibly afford the wine she got drunk on."
"That coupled with the fact that only two clubs in London serve that vintage, and the closest is nearly five miles away, we can deduce that she was brought here." Sherlock added. He sounded excited. Kitty wanted to slap him but she withheld the urge.
"She was raped and strung up there for anyone to see." Kitty added, sounding very morbid.
"No, not just anyone." Sherlock corrected. "She was a personal message." Kitty could tell by his tone that he was thinking. "What time was this called in?"
"About an hour ago." Lestrade was trying to follow Sherlock's logic but failed.
"Whoever left this message knew that the person it was meant for would see it before the police." Sherlock mumbled. "I need all of the security footage that was pointed at the mouth of the alley between two am and the moment you were on the scene." Without another word Sherlock grabbed Kitty's hand and led her away from the older detective, and towards the street.
"Sherlock." Kitty wanted him to stop and let her breath for a minute, being tugged along when you're blind is a uniquely terrifying experience and her stomach couldn't handle it. "Sherlock stop!" She shouted at him. Sherlock halted immediately.
"What's the matter?" He asked, sounding confused. Kitty took in a deep breath of chilly air and ripped off the latex gloves that still clung to her fingers.
"I need a minute." Kitty huffed, trying to wrap her head around everything that just happened. "I can handle this, but if you don't let me calm down you're going to have one hell of a pseudo seizure on your hands."
"Will you be able to function?" Sherlock asked, sounding as though he was going to read more into her answer than what she would actually say. Kitty nodded.
"Sorry, this just isn't really my everyday thing." She tried to give him a smile but had to swallow instead. She had to put everything that had happened only a few minutes ago in the back of her mind and not think about it. She had no idea how many times he was going to expect her to tag along for these horrible little adventures, but despite the sick feeling in her stomach, she was exhilarated.
"That's why you stayed, isn't it?" Sherlock sounded a little bit impatient, but Kitty could tell he was curbing it for her sake. Kitty let out a laugh at his logic, which she couldn't dispute, and nodded.
"I never said I wasn't insane." She countered before reaching out for his hand again and allowing him to tug her to the curb and into the first taxi he could find.
Once inside the taxi Sherlock ordered the driver to take them to New Scotland Yard. Kitty settled into the uncomfortable seats that she had grown accustomed to and let out a long sigh.
"Why did you make me do that?" She asked, finally calmed enough to think logically about what had happened.
"I wanted to see if you would work under pressure." Sherlock admitted without even the slightest bit of remorse. "You did not disappoint." Kitty scoffed and put her hand to her forehead. She couldn't even manage to feel surprised.
"Please at least tell me you didn't let that idiot, Anderson, break her neck knowing that she was alive." Kitty wouldn't be able to forgive Sherlock for taking an experiment that far. Sherlock heard the strain in her tone and frowned.
"No, you made one more deduction than I was expecting. I did not realize she was alive when I first examined her." Sherlock's tone sounded very unfamiliar to Kitty, he was in his 'hunting' mode.
"It wasn't your job to be looking for that. Whoever that Anderson guy was, he obviously couldn't find his own ass with both hands and a map." Kitty grumbled. If that woman died she would hunt Anderson down and make sure he was sorry for his ignorance.
"You look as though you're considering homicide." Sherlock mumbled under his breath so that the cabbie wouldn't hear him. He sounded on the verge of chuckling. Kitty pointed her eyes at him and fought back a grin.
"Me?" She feigned innocence. "Never." This time Sherlock did laugh and Kitty thought it was a beautiful sound. His laugh was deep and genuine. She had to wonder how often he got to laugh like that.
"You're a terrible liar." Sherlock accused once he stopped laughing. Kitty shrugged.
"At least it keeps me straight." She didn't mind looking like a bad liar; it meant that when she really had to lie, no one would expect her to be good at it.
"I think you impressed everyone," Sherlock mumbled, sounding somewhere between jealous and proud.
"Nah," Kitty shook her head and took his hand. "It's probably impossible to impress anyone once they meet you." Kitty fully intended every ounce of ego stroking she'd just given him. She laced her fingers through his and gave his knuckles a kiss before setting their hands in her lap. Sherlock didn't respond, he just smirked and let her keep his hand in hers.
Author's Note: Ok so I'm going to admit that the idea for the crime scene is not entirely mine. I'm going to give serious props to anybody who can pin which show I got it from though! Hint: It's not Sherlock
Black Rose Kali: Your reviews are always so wonderful! I know what you mean about 'Finally' I was seriously itching to get them together! I'm freaking extatic that you still think Sherlock is in character! Call me on it if I break from it! PLEASE!
MidnightRaineStorm: I hope this chapter didn't disapoint! Writing their relationship is hard for me to pace so it's awesome that you think it's going on par with where it should be.
: I know, I love writing Kitty because she had a 'no bones about it' attitude and doesn't let Sherlock get away with stuff. You're going to have to wait a while before you hear more about her trauma though so hang in there! It will come I promise!
And to all the others: Thank you so much for your support! Your reviews follows and favorites are what keep me writing! Love you guys!
ZombiexBunnies13
