Chapter Ten: Crime Scene, Do Not Enter
Sherlock and I walked down the street towards a group of red and blue lights. Yellow tape was wrapped around half a dozen poles and barriers have been set up. The tape read "CRIME SCENE DO NOT ENTER".
"We better not be heading towards that." I say, pointed towards the crime scene. Sherlock didn't say anything, he just strode on, quicken his pace. I began to jog to keep up with him.
"About bloody time you turned up." A man with silvery hair said to Sherlock
"Well I had to pick up my new assistant." Sherlock replied. Since when was I his assistant?
"Sherlock you can't just bring a child on to a crime scene!" The man said.
"Wait, you didn't get permission?" I asked. "Sherlock you are in deep, deep shit with Molly when she picks me up." I'll say, I am going to have a bit of fun watching Sherlock get a talking to from Molly.
"So you must be Clara then, the girl Sergeant Tull picked up." The silver haired man said.
"Yep… that's me." I say.
"Why has Sherlock brought you here then?" He asked.
"Lestrade, she is here with me to solve a case with me. Just let Clara and I through." Sherlock growled. The man that has been labeled Lestrade stepped aside and Sherlock stormed past. I run after him and try and keep up with him.
"You don't have to be so rude you know." I say.
"I could say the same thing about you." Sherlock retorted, smirking to himself.
Soon enough Sherlock and I reached the open front door of a townhouse. Forensics had just walked out and where undressing themselves of the blue suits and shoes. Many of them shot dirty looks towards Sherlock and I. I was more or less guessing they hated him.
"Hello freak." A woman said, she had frizzy black hair and had a look of disgust and hatred across her face. "Who's this you've got with you, she's a bit young for you." She added.
I have had just about enough of her already. I could tell Sherlock wasn't overly fond of her either.
"Sally Donovan meet Clara." Sherlock simply said. "She is helping me with the case."
"And since when is it okay for a child to be on a crime scene?" She questioned. I finally decide to but in.
"I'm sorry but since when is okay to be extremely rude to someone you barely know? I am perfectly okay being here and Sherlock is the current guardian of me other than Molly Hooper who I am sure you know. So if it's alright with you, I'm just going to pop up stairs and have a look around." I say to Sally, pushing past her and up the staircase. To my amazement, I couldn't here anything footsteps coming after me. I was at least expecting to get arrested. I turn back halfway up the stairs to see Sherlock staring up at me. Just about everyone in earshot was. "You coming or what Sherlock?" I say, turning back to face the stairs and climbing to the top. Sherlock soon followed me up the stairs. I wait for Sherlock at the top of the stairs. Once he reaches the top, he places his hand on by back and pushes me in front of him.
"Stay where I can see you Clara." He whispered.
"Why?" I question.
"Do you want to get in trouble?" He said, his voice sounding sterner.
"No." I say.
"Then stay where I can see you." He says. I walked into the room at the end of the hallway we were walking, the floorboards being my feet creaked and the hinges of the doors that were being opened and closed screeched as the rusted metal was pushed together. I stopped at the doorway and let Sherlock through. I didn't look in. I took a deep breath and turned to face the corpse. I almost screamed at the sight. The corpse was that of a woman, I guessed about 30-40 years of age. She was in the late stages of rigor mortis, her body stiff. She was seated in an old wooden chair, bound by thick, heavy duty cable ties, which were so tight the circulation appears to have been cut off to her hands post partum. She was wearing a pencil skirt, but her shirt was missing, revealing her bra. I look down her legs to see she had been bound at her ankles as well. She was covered in blood, her blonde hair turning into a pink colour. Blood had trickled down her arms and abdomen.
"Lestrade!" Sherlock called. Within in almost 20 seconds, Lestrade was front and centre.
"What is it Sherlock?" He said, puffed from running up the stairs.
"The victim is in her early 30s, local, works in a business environment judging by the pencil skirt and her shoes. She was married, the mark of where her wedding ring was is still visible, and she was bound before she was killed." Sherlock said. His words began to drone out, I walked up to the corpse. Studying her. I got close enough to her to see the cause of death. She was strangled with something soft. But you could just see the marks it had made.
"She was killed via strangulation." I say. Interrupting Sherlock and Lestrade's bickering.
"I'm sorry?" Sherlock said. He was looking at me as if I was stupid. He got down to my level, examining the body. "I can't see any signs of strangulation Clara. I think you must be mistak-."
"Let the girl talk Sherlock." Lestrade said. "What makes you think she was strangled?"
"If you closely, you can see lines on her neck, they go horizontally around her neck, but they aren't very bold, she was strangled with something soft. I look at her skirt and see an indent in her skin, she had been wearing stockings. "Like stockings." I say.
Sherlock and Lestrade exchange a look. "Remind you of anyone?" Sherlock said.
"Actually yes." I say.
"Enlighten me." Sherlock bitterly says. Lestrade gave him a glare and shove.
"Well um, Carlton Gary was an American man convicted of strangling elderly women in the New York area. He was convicted for beating, sexually assaulting, raping and strangling nine women. He killed nine but attacked 13 women in total." I say. Lestrade looks at me, stunned that I know that.
"But some of this doesn't fit the pattern. This lady is a lot younger than his victims and this clearly isn't her home. But Gary didn't always strangle his victims with stockings, sometimes scarves." I continue.
"How do you know that she might have just had a scarf around her neck?" Sherlock questioned.
Without hesitating, I pull out my scarf out of my bag and try it around my neck and pull it has tight has a can. I cough, Lestrade takes steps towards me to stop me from choking myself but I step back, glaring at him. He puts his hands up in defeat and steps back. I pull off the scarf after a few minutes. "Look at my neck Sherlock, do you see the same marks on my neck as hers?" I question, pointing to the corpse. Sherlock comes towards me, towering over me. He holds my head in his hands and maneuvers it to get a good look. He lets go and walks over to the victim, I hear him mumble something that makes me smile.
"Well, is she right?" Lestrade asked, almost begging. Sherlock looks up and scowls at me.
"Yes, she is right, it wasn't a scarf, the likelihood of stockings being used strangle the victim is more likely." He says. The annoyance in his voice pleasing me. I give him a smile. All I get is a black look. He storms out of the room, Lestrade following closely behind. I quickly jot down all that I saw in the notebook Molly had given me and run after them, almost tripping down the stairs. Sherlock is waiting at the front door for me
"Come on. We have to go to St Bart's." He says, grabbing my forearm and leading me in the direction of the hospital.
"Why?" I ask.
"The body is being moved there, I will get Molly to examine it and I will as well. Now stop asking questions and lets go." Sherlock says.
We walk down the street and towards the swarm of people. We merge in among the people and head in the direction of the hospital. Why does he have to be so rude? He picks up speed and I start to walk faster than my usual pace to keep up. Suddenly, Sherlock breaks into a run.
"Sherlock!" I scream. Drawing attention to myself. Suddenly I realize why he is running. Bright flashes begin surrounding me. Questions are thrown left, right and centre. I run after him, seeing his coat flap behind him. I start sprinting after him, my feet pounding on the pavement. I scream at people to move out of the way, people begin to part like the Red Sea. I run faster and faster, trying to escape the flashes of cameras and voices of journalists. I see Sherlock; he is now only jogging now.
"Sherlock keep running!" I scream, still sprinting towards him. I fly past him, spotting the hospital. "Hurry up!" I yell back to him, looking back to see him pick up his pace. I run through the gates of the hospital and through the doors, Sherlock just behind me. I collapse on the floor and breathe heavily, tumbling through my bag for my drink bottle. I take a swig and offer it to Sherlock, who was leaning against the wall, he takes it takes a sip.
"Knew you could run." He said in between breaths, smirking after his comment and handing me back my bottle.