The elephant shifted its bulky weight restlessly as if bored by the people poking about the room. Between its legs were two male bodies of different ages with strong Indian facial features. An old leather couch was pushed up against one blank white wall and sunlight peeked in through dirty windows and long faded curtains.
John stared at the mammal with his usual charmingly bewildered expression. Sherlock ignored the elephant having apparently dismissed it and knelt down to examine the bodies. He pulled out his magnifying glass and went about his business as if the creature did not exist.
"Does this make any sense to you?" Lestrade asked. The detective was studying the fingernails of one of the bodies.
"Yes," Sherlock replied.
After a long pause Lestrade asked, "Double homicide?"
"I think you should stop talking," Sherlock muttered, rolling up the shirtsleeves of the older deceased man to examine his arms. "There's bruising on the upper arms indicating a well utilized injection site, most likely for insulin. The footprints on the floor indicate he walked with a limp. Given the pattern of wear on each shoe I think you'll find he had several toes medically amputated from his left foot."
Sherlock ran his hands down the man's jacket, hunting. He pulled out a bottle of prescription pills from one breast pocket. He blinked rapidly as a series of conclusions occurred to him:
Diabetic.
Diabetic with health problems.
Diabetic with heart disease.
"This man wasn't murdered. He died of a heart attack," John said.
Sherlock allowed a ghost of a smile to touch his lips. He moved to the other body. His agile fingers probed the man's chest, finding broken ribs and signs of hemorrhaging. The man's face reflected a great deal of pain.
Execution by elephant, Sherlock thought, original.
From the dead man's pant pockets Sherlock pulled out a new cell phone and the keys to a Mercedes.
"He doesn't have any money or credit cards in his wallet. Gambler?" Lestrade asked, desperately trying to piece something together.
"Wrong," Sherlock said.
He slid open the dead man's phone and scrolled through the text messages.
"You could tell us instead of trying to show off, " John suggested.
"No, he can't," Lestrade said.
Sherlock moved to the windows. He could feel John watching expectantly behind him. He pushed aside the curtains to reveal long panes of glass running from floor to ceiling.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade called across the room.
"Busy, Lestrade."
Smudges on the glass formed a pattern. Sherlock recreated the movement that had made them with his own fingers. The tall glass folded effortlessly to create a doorway. A doorway large enough for an elephant. Just outside he found an unusual tool leaning against the house. He tossed a short metal hook to Lestrade.
"What does it all mean?" Lestrade asked desperately.
"Revenge?" John ventured.
Sherlock held up his hand. He needed facts not speculation.
"Tell me the information you have regarding the victims," Sherlock demanded.
Chief Inspector Lestrade leafed through a manila folder and pulled out a sheet of paper.
"Baldev Patel, age 39. Tier 5 visa for temporary work, expired six months ago. He's lived here for almost a year as a tenant. The other one is Abhinac Arya, 66. He is a minor government official so this will all need to be kept out of the news."
"Your fans will be disappointed," John remarked.
Sherlock was quick to send him a text in reply.
You're the one who cares what people say. SH
"No known family or friends. Neighbors say they keep mostly to themselves. We got a call this morning because of the noise," Lestrade rambled on uselessly.
John and Lestrade both turned to the gray elephant, who stood patiently staring back at them. Sherlock grimaced and made for the doorway before it was too late. Lestrade shouted and jumped back as the animal let go a torrent of urine onto the floor.
Sherlock walked outside, head bent over the phone of Mr. Arya.
John was holding his wet shoes with disgust. Sherlock sniffed at the distinct smell
and filed it away with the collective data he kept on animal aromas.
"Small size, small ears, no tusks. Clearly a young female Asiatic elephant domesticated by a capable mahout and trained to act as a unique tool of death," Sherlock said without looking up.
"You don't think this was an accident then?" Lestrade asked.
"That would be an obvious solution and the wrong one," said Sherlock. "This was all very deliberate. At this point there's only one thing left to do."
"And what's that?" Lestrade sighed.
"Get some lunch."