Well, thanks for the reviews, folks! I was shocked to discover that I had received five in one day! I was even more shocked to find that most said good things... and I was triply shocked to discover that you all remembered me. Hmm. That's good, I'll take it.
Anyway, thanks for the reviews. A quick note of reference. I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT LONDON! I just thought I'd tell you so that you don't scowl at me for not having London details perfect. I'm a hopeless American, I'm afraid. Oh well. Hopeless American's are cool. They can write decent stories every once in a while.
Also, much thanks to Someday Sara for finally updating. She didn't review my story (I don't think) which disappoints, but... that doesn't matter. I no longer have to attack and kill someone. That is good.
What? You want the chapter? Jeez, pushy people, aren't you?
Chapter Six: Dance of Death II
Christine quickly shoved a Muslim woman dress thing on me, much to my displeasure. I was grumpy enough, and now my face was being covered. Oh joy. Just what I needed. To barely be able to see. Christine, however, being herself, ignored all my protests and anger. She merely rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.
That girl could be worse than Mr. Holmes (AN- She means Sherlock, but she's ticked at him, so...) sometimes. Secretive and very annoying. And a complete idiot. And a chauvinistic pig. And arrogant, cocky, full of himself, ignorant...
I forced myself to calm down. We were on a case, I couldn't allow my personal feelings to get in the way at the moment. It was time for me to prove myself to Mr. Holmes, that louse.
"Jenny? Jenny? Hellooooo? What's it like in your world?" Christine muttered in my ear. I snapped out of my silent cursings and glanced at her with wide eyes.
"Whatever do you mean? My world is just fine, also. Why?" I asked. Christine rolled her eyes at me.
"Listen, hun, if you really want to prove yourself to Sherlock, then you got to stay focused," she hissed. I blinked a few times. How had she read my thoughts?
"How did you know what I was thinking?" I asked in surprise. Christine chuckled sourly and drifted through a crowd of people, elbowing a guy who stepped on her Muslim woman dress thing.
"You didn't think it. You said it out loud."
Oh. Shoot. I would have to remember to make sure I was actually not saying what I was speaking. Christine caught my annoyed look and raised an eyebrow.
"No big deal. Just... shh. Got it?"
"I'm not stupid," I snapped. Christine raised her hands.
"Never said you were."
"You implied it," I shot back. Christine glanced around and then leaned close to me.
"Is it that time of the month, Jenny?" she whispered. I glared at her.
"You're being the idiot, not me," I snarled. Christine looked at me in confusion and distress, and then anger.
"You know what, get out of here. I can work without a pissy bitch hanging around me. Go back to the hotel room," she retorted. I felt my jaw drop. Christine never swore, unless severely agitated. I wasn't really being that annoying, was I? Why did nobody understand that I had just broken up with my boyfriend? It just wasn't fair. I glared at her, and then walked away.
(AN- Yes, Watson is out of character. I'm not going into details, just because it's irrelevant, but it is that time of the month. Now I know what you're thinking: no one acts like this during PMS. All I'm going to say is that I'm pulling this from a bit of personal experience, so it's apparent that people DO act like this during PMS. Get over it.)
Yanking off the irritating head wrap, I walked swiftly away from Christine. She was just as bad as Holmes! She thought she was the best at everything. I was always being treated like the underdog, the idiot, the detective who couldn't figure anything out. I was just as important as the rest of them in every investigation.
Or was I? What I had I really done over the time I had known Holmes? Nearly killed him, for one. Followed him around like a little dog. Nearly got myself killed, which ended up in Holmes rescuing me. Made him try on a dress.
Was Holmes's accusation really that unfounded? I was weaker than him- I knew it all along. So why had I bit his head off? Why had I bitten Christine's head off, for that matter? A sudden cramp in my stomach told all.
Darn Christine. She had that annoying tendency to be right about PMS. As always... then again, her mood swings were worse than mine ever were, so-
A hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me out of my berating thoughts. Kline's face loomed close to mine, it being unusually serious. I looked at her in surprise.
"Hey Kline. What?" I questioned, noticing the haunted look in her eyes. Kline shook her head slowly.
"There's been an... accident. Go find Sherlock and Christine," she muttered. I sighed, and then shook my head.
"No. You know what, you don't have to speak candidly around me. Spill. What's up?"
Kline looked at me hesitantly, and then nodded slowly. "You're right- you're not a little girl. There has been another murder. This one is especially bloody- the jugular vein was slashed. It's a complete mess- almost as bad as blown-out-brains girl. Do you think you can handle it?" she whispered. I bit my lip. Could I handle poking around a dead girl? Probably not. But I could try.
"Yeah. I can handle it," I said bravely. Kline raised an eyebrow, and then nodded again. She tossed my a pair of rubber gloves.
"No taking evidence. Holmes can do that; he's semi-employed with Scottie Yard, after all. But if we're doing it, we can't take anything. Oh, and beware. The stench is horrible," she warned me. I put on the rubber gloves and shook my head in the affirmative.
Kline opened a door that had been partially hidden by a curtain thing. I walked inside and gagged. Kline had been right- the stench was atrocious. It was worse than the landfills I had been by, and it reeked of freshness. I saw Kline nearly lose her stomach contents, and then she forced herself to calm down.
It was a girl. I think she had blond hair, but there was so much blood it was hard to tell. Her eyes were frozen in an impression of terror, hatred, and- was that sadness? It looked like sadness. Her hand was thrown out into a shadow, as if she were reaching for something. She was still warm, indicating that the murder had happened fairly recently.
Kline poked her, prodded her, and pushed her while I stood by. Truth was, I knew nearly nothing about anatomy. I hadn't done that well in science in general. I had taken biology, and I was in chemistry- as for anatomy, you could forget it. I knew that Kline had done independent research on anatomy, though, and I trusted her not to make a glaring error.
She didn't. She stood and wiped her gloved hands on a rag.
"She was killed about twenty to twenty-five minutes ago, I would say. Rigor mortis hasn't quite set in yet. Warm, and the blood is still wet. All in all, really gross. So, now what?" she asked me. I looked at her oddly.
"What do you mean, now what?"
"I mean, now what do we do? I mean, what do we look for, exactly? I suppose a knife would be nice, but the chances of the culprit leaving behind the weapon are, like, one in one billion. So, what do you think we should look for?" she asked again. I bit my lip in frustration. How should I know? I tried to run over all the things I had watched Holmes do over the short time I had known him, and came up pretty much blank.
"Um, search for fingerprints?" I suggested. Kline thought about it for a second, and then nodded.
"That sounds right. Now, see, this is what happens when we don't have our better halves. You know that Christine is the searching one of our group. Kinda. Well, you get what I mean. She doesn't have the sort of patience for my kind of searches. And I'm babbling, so I'll shut up now," Kline announced. I giggled.
"Best news I heard all day."
"Oh, shut up."
Kline pulled out a dusting kit from her costume pocket, and then studied the body with disdain.
"Question. How do we do this? All the dust will stick to the blood, and then we'll get thrown in jail for obstructing evidence, or whatever. Oh, you know what, screw it! Let's look for a knife," Kline announced in frustration. I backed away slowly from her- and promptly tripped over a bundle of rope. I glared at the rope with anger, until I saw the thing that was in it.
"Hey, Kline? One in a billion of finding the murder weapon at the scene of crime, right? Looks like we are the one," I said slowly, my finger pointing at a rather bloody knife. Kline rushed over, helped me up, and then studied the weapon.
"Crap, we are lucky, aren't we? And we still can't dust it for fingerprints!" howled Kline in sadness. I smiled bleakly at her, and then sighed.
"I'll go get Holmes..."
******************************************************************************************
"What!" he shouted, spitting his tea back into his cup. I grimaced. Backwashing was disgusting, at least to me.
"We found another dead girl, and the murder weapon," I said urgently. Holmes studied me warily.
"If this is a trick to get me away from the crowds so you can kill me, I'm not buying it," he murmured. I snickered.
"If I were that angry, I wouldn't try to get you away from the crowd. Look, will you just come with me? Kline can't touch anything- you can. You got permission, or whatever. I still don't get the legal technicalities of that."
"You're not supposed to. Lestrade made it especially hard to understand so no one would pick up on the fact that, essentially, I am an under-aged police officer."
"Oh. So you're saying he can be intelligent when he wants to?"
"When he wants to."
"Well, that's better than nothing."
"I suppose. Lead the way, Watson."
I grinned at him, a weight lifted off of my shoulders. Mind you, it wasn't a large one, but it was enough. Holmes wasn't entirely angry at me, even though I had been a complete prat. That was a relief...
"I'm still agitated at you, Watson," Holmes interrupted. I threw my hands into the air.
"Why is it that everyone can read my mind?" I muttered. I had a feeling Holmes was smirking, but I couldn't see him- I was leading, for once.
"I can see your shoulders relaxing. You're not exactly hard to read," he laughed. I growled under my breath. Everyone was being a wise guy.
I pointed at the half hidden door in dismay. I really had no desire to go back into the girl's tomb, but I guess I didn't have a choice. Holmes breezed by me and threw the door open.
"Hey, watch it, bub!" snapped Christine's voice from inside. Holmes raised an eyebrow at her, and then immediately went to the body. I followed, not even glancing at Christine. She was probably a bit more angry than Holmes was.
Holmes spent a minute studying the girl's corpse, and then walked over to the place where I had found the knife. Kline tossed him some rubber gloves, and he quickly put them on and lifted the knife.
It was just a simple penknife, the sort almost everyone owns. From what I could tell, it wasn't much help. Holmes seemed to spend a great deal of time on it, though, and requested for a magnifying glass, which Kline gave to him. Finally he tossed it into a little baggie- and then froze.
"What?" Christine asked, confused. Holmes just tilted his head to the side, and then shoved me into a corner. Kline and Christine dove into the shadows just as the door opened.
A tall woman entered, her brown hair shining in the moment of light. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the body. But unlike most people, she didn't start screaming, or crying hysterically. She regarded the girl's corpse quietly, and then looked around. Without another word, she started to laugh a bit, and then Jackie LeSalle, esteemed choreographer, left the room.
******************************************************************************************
"She didn't even spaz! I'm telling you, she has to be at the top of our suspect list," Kline snapped. Christine nodded enthusiastically. I shook my head.
"What about John? He is always... elsewhere... during rehearsals. Fact is, I haven't seen him since he was introduced to us. And Sallay Jargin! She seems to be disappearing at the oddest times," I argued. Kline glanced at me.
"Yeah, but Jackie makes the most sense. I mean, she was right with those two trumpet players when the backdrop fell. And didn't Jamie say that Gina was with Jackie before she was killed? Jackie definitely has the opportunity."
"But we still have means and motive! I mean, why would a choreographer kill off a dancer, two trumpet players, and the second chair violinist?" I questioned.
We had finally managed to identify the dead girl. We had been horrified to discover that it was Holmes's stand partner. I didn't know her name, but Holmes seemed a bit distraught about it, considering the last thing he had said about her was that she was annoying.
I glanced over to see what Holmes was doing. He had his hands in his pockets as he paced back and forth in Christine's hotel room. We had ditched the costume ball early and called the police, handing over the little evidence we had to them. A piece of thread and a knife that was practically worthless. They had glared at us and sent us away, but...
"The fact of the matter is that we don't have enough evidence to have anyone as logical suspects at the moment. Nobody has a motive, nobody has the means, and everyone has the opportunity. We cannot jump to hasty conclusions," Holmes snapped at us. Christine leaned back in the desk chair.
"We're just speculating, Sherlock. Don't get your knickers in a knot," she said softly. Holmes began gnawing on his pinkie as he went over the facts over and over again.
"Speculating leads to wrong conclusions. Let's try to keep it to the facts."
Christine jumped out of her chair, her dark blue eyes blazing with a sort malevolence.
"We don't have enough facts to keep it to! If we don't hurry, someone else is going to get killed, and it will be your fault!" Christine shouted. That certainly struck a chord in Holmes, and he whipped around and shoved her out of his way.
"You, Christine, are an undereducated amateur! Don't lecture me about time restrictions! I know them only to well. I suggest that you sit down and keep your mouth shut until you have something reasonably intelligent to say," he snapped. Christine rolled her eyes and sat down. Kline looked at him hesitantly.
"She has a point, Sherlock. You know that most homicides only have about 72 hours to solve a case before the evidence becomes cold, or whatever," she reminded him. Holmes looked at her irritably.
"I know that, Kline. But I also know that we're dealing with a serial killer, not a single homicide. And I also know that these are getting far to close to home. All of you, just stay quiet. I need to think."
I flopped down next to Kline on the bed and raised an eyebrow at her. A silent conversation ensued.
What's with him?
I don't know- stress, I guess.
Has he always been like this?
I've only known him a year, I really wouldn't know.
Well, in all the time you've know him, has he been like this?
Never this stressed. Stressed, yes, but not this much.
What do you think the difference is.
It's closer to us now than it ever has been. More deadly.
More people have been killed?
Usually we get dragged in on a case in the middle. Four people is the most we've ever witnessed in our cases.
So, he's freaking out because it's more deadly now.
Basically.
He doesn't have to yell at us, though.
What, did you expect him to coddle us?
At this point, Christine slammed a book down on the table, issuing a glare from Holmes.
"Hey, Sherlock, hate to break the mood, but I'm getting sick of this. We're not amateurs, in case you haven't noticed. Jenny works with you, Kline and I work together all the time. No need to keep us in the dark, here," she snapped. I stared at Christine in amazement. She was becoming much more... open with her opinions. Holmes studied her with a look of distaste on his face.
"Miss Penninger, I recognize that you are not amateurs. But I myself have no inkling as to what to think of this case, and I can hardly ask any of you to be dragged into this chaotic affair."
Kline stood up and looked at him evenly, sarcastic amusement on her face.
"Listen, babe (can I call you babe?). Just ask. We work good with chaotic affairs. And why the heck are you shoving us away all of a sudden? You let us do most of the work back in Michigan," Kline reminded him. Holmes looked at her impatiently. I could tell that his temper was rising swiftly.
"It was your territory in Michigan! You knew the ground better, and you had a better idea as to the character of the people we were investigating. But now that we're on my land, in my town, you don't know half of the things that I do. Accept it. Christine, you haven't any idea of what you are talking about. You're being senseless. And Kline? No, you may not call me babe, and I have reasons for 'shoving you away' as you so eloquently put it. You and Christine are too much alike- I suggest you both do what I request. Sit down and shut your bloody mouth!" he shouted. Kline stared at Holmes in amazement and then stood up, walking right over to him and staring him in the eye.
"Sherlock whatever-your-middle-name-is Holmes! You are one to speak! How dare you call Christine senseless. She has a point, and a very good one. Which is unusual for her, but still. And why don't you try and explain your reasons, huh? Otherwise, you're going to find yourself very much alone in this case," she snarled. Holmes held her gaze evenly.
"This case could get you killed. That is my reason."
Christine snorted and sat down on the desk, crossing her legs.
"Look, Sherlock, point of fact. We're detectives. We wouldn't be in this business if we were worried about getting killed. That isn't a very good reason, if you ask me," she commented lightly, her voice tinged with anger. Holmes laughed bitterly.
"Well, it's a good thing no one asked you then, isn't it?"
I grabbed my hair in agitation. We were acting like three-year-olds! I had my own personal reasons for acting like a prat, but what about Holmes? I had a feeling what his hang-up was, but it was getting annoying. Meanwhile, Christine was glaring at Holmes, her eyes blazing.
"Then I guess you're getting my opinion anyway! GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE, SHERLOCK! You aren't all that, despite whatever your ego tells you. If you don't let us help, then we are tying you to the furnace and solving the case ourselves. Am I right, Kline? Jenny?" she shrieked. Kline nodded, and glanced at me. It all came down to me at this point.
I looked at Holmes hesitantly, hoping to see some sign of remorse. Alas, the only thing I saw on his cold face was stubbornness. My eyes widened, and then I nodded.
"They're right, Holmes. You really should let us help," I murmured soothingly. Holmes turned his back on us and stared out the window.
"I'm not letting you help."
Kline scoffed and walked towards the door, her features rigid and angry.
"Well then, you might as well just give up on the case. You can't do anything without us. And you're not getting our help anymore. Have fun, Sherlock. The victims will be happy to know that you've essentially given up."
Holmes spun around and stared at her, his dark blue eyes filled with surprise.
"You wouldn't really leave this case, would you?" he questioned. Kline shook her head.
"We're not leaving the case. We're leaving you."
"I don't see a difference."
"Hmm... leaving something that will do the world good, and leaving something that is being an amazing pain in the arse. Let's think about it," Christine said sarcastically. Holmes glared at her, and then sat down on the bed.
"Fine. You know what, I would suggest that you leave. I know I can do this case by myself," he snapped irritably. I chuckled with glee, and Holmes looked at me. "What?"
"During the case where Robert was killing everyone? Irene was still around? You told me you didn't like working alone. Liar, liar, pants on fire," I teased. Holmes blushed, much to my amusement, and scowled.
"Things change. Get out," he muttered. It was Christine's turn to laugh, and laugh she did. Her laugh was an odd sort, somewhat airy and wheezy. Kline began to giggle hysterically as well, catching on something that I didn't.
"This is my room, Sherlock! You should be the one getting out!" Christine laughed. I couldn't stand it. Biting my lip, I began to laugh. Kline was practically on the floor now.
"Leave it to the great Sherlock Holmes to overlook something so obvious!" she howled. Christine cracked up again, and I burst into laughter. Holmes turned a deep red and glared at us.
"Shut up!" he yelled. That created greater amusement to us, and we started to giggle again. Holmes crossed his arms and pouted, seemingly hurt. Then again, it was a blow to his pride... I walked over and put a hand on his shoulder, my laughter controlled for the moment.
"Aw, don't be such a spoilsport, Holmes. Crack a grin, will you?" I said, immediately bursting into laughter again. Holmes smiled a bit, but not much. But I could see his anger quickly dying away. In fact, I could see all of our anger quickly disappearing. Then Holmes started to laugh. His dark eyes lightened a bit as he slapped his knees.
"I am a complete git!" he declared. I cracked up and sat down on the bed. I saw Christine and Kline practically dying with laughter... our anger had disappeared.
*****
"Oh! Oh! Oh! That was good. Heck yeah, we needed a laugh," Kline wheezed about five minutes later. Christine let a little giggle out and wiped away some of the tears that were streaming down her face. I was sitting on Holmes's lap and still giggling slightly.
"I wish somebody had caught that entire conversation on tape. It would have provided a great deal of amusement for Kline's future kiddies. And of course, Holmes and Jenny will be married by then, so they'll have a bunch of screaming kids. I, however, will be-" Kline cut Christine off with a mischievous smile.
"-Happily married to Todd, with three screaming children of your own," she laughed. Holmes, who was holding me in his lap, started to laugh.
"What will they name the children, I wonder?" Holmes questioned. I giggled and looked at him.
"She'll have to name one of them after Kline, one after you, and one after me, of course. But then she'll have more children so she can name one after Todd, one after her mother, one after Rachel, one after Kelsey, one after other people that she's met, and about fifty more to name with the names she really likes," I said thoughtfully. Christine gasped with mock indignation.
"How dare you imply that Todd and I are going to get married! Are you nuts? He's so, well, ewww," she responded. Kline looked at her, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
"Yeah, right. Like you don't think he's hot," she muttered. Christine glared at her.
"He's not hot. He's not- well, all right. He's cute. But not hot! Please, give me some credit here. I don't look at looks, I look for brains. Sophistication. Proper respect for a lady," said Christine drolly. Holmes laughed.
"If you were looking for people with brains, sophistication, and proper respect for a lady, then you wouldn't be part of this group, now would you?"
I grinned at him and patted him on the cheek. At least he was admitting that he had acted like an idiot earlier that night...
My smile was wiped away as I thought about earlier. I could see Kline looking a little guilty also, and Christine's smile had disappeared. I felt Holmes tense underneath me, and he quickly lifted me off his lap.
"Look at this, we've wasted a good thirty minutes arguing and laughing. We need to get to work on the case. Someone's life is in our hands," he said quickly. I nodded solemnly, and took a seat by the bed.
"So far we have too many suspects. Jackie, John, Sallay... we haven't even considered cast members yet. Tomorrow we have to start looking. Christine, I want you to interrogate the actors and actresses. Kline, you sneak around the crew members, especially our three main suspects. Watson, I would appreciate it if you could talk to the dancers, and I'll talk to the orchestra members," Holmes announced, pacing the floor. I nodded. The dancers really wouldn't be that hard.
"What about the knife, Sherlock? We never got a chance to dust it for fingerprints," Kline said, frowning. Holmes sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"I know. I'll try to convince Inspector Lestrade to allow me to see it. I doubt he will though- he was angry enough about having to agree to our agreement. Besides, I doubt our murderer would have left anything for us," he reminded us. I shrugged.
"We also didn't think that our murderer would have left us the murder weapon, but low and behold, it was there," I said. Kline nodded in agreement.
"I don't think we're dealing with a very capable killer, here. I mean, what numbskull leaves behind the weapon?" she asked. Holmes sighed.
"A confident one."
Voila! End of chapter! Aren't you all proud of me? I actually finished it, and am going to be updating it! Yay! No six month wait...
The agreement I spoke about between Lestrade and Holmes is as followed: Holmes is allowed to take evidence, look around the crime scenes, yadda yadda yadda, as long as he gives the evidence to Scotland Yard later. I know this seems unlikely, but come on. I need some way to make what they're doing legal. Anyway, this agreement occurred in between "Be Still My Heart" and "Splendor of the Stars", so that's why you're just now hearing about it. The reason the agreement was made is because Lestrade realized that he couldn't stop Holmes from poking around. Don't get me wrong- Lestrade still hates Holmes and wishes he would stop. But he does admit that the guy is good at what he does.
Please review, because I'll love you forever. Everyone who reviewed last time gets cookies- anyone who reviews this time gets a yummy cake.J