"Oh!" John said as he came outside onto the patio. "Uhh, did you go to sleep last night?" He asked as he sat down in the chair next to me.
"Nope." I said, still looking out to the pond.
"Have you seen Sherlock by any chance?" He asked a bit worried. I glanced over at him, smirking.
"You act like his mother." Ohhh, that earned a nice little glare. No one has any sense of humor any more. "Yeah. He swept off at around two this morning." I sighed, looking back to the pond.
"You wouldn't happen to know where he is… Do you?" He questioned, leaning back as if he already knew the answer.
"Haven't a clue, though he did said something about a freezer and a cadaver. Then as he went by the patio he was mumbling something along the lines of 'No panties' and 'sliced pickles'." I answered, looking over to John. "I decided against asking."
"Good choice." And with that we stayed silent. "I'm really sorry, but what's your name?" He ventured, as if he were scared of the answer. God, these people are a bit out of the loop.
"Cassandra. But you can just call me Cassie." He nodded his head some, leaning back into the seat once more, before popped back up.
"Does it have any special meaning?"
"Not that I know of." I said, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Any other names you go by?"
"Nope." He leaned back in the chair again, face contorted in thought. I, once again, decided not to ask. I've come to the conclusion that anything dealing with Sherlock is something I really, really don't want to know. Not a moment later, Sherlock came running by. We watched him go out of sight, then come back into sight, jumping off the gazebo and diving into the water. John and I sat there a minute, watching the stilling pond. "You think he's dead?" I asked, lighting a cigarette.
"One can only hope." He sighed, sipping his water.
"What do you think he's doing?" I asked, watching as he popped back up for air, then diving back in.
"Looks like he's swimming in the pond." He said, looking at his watch.
"What are you doing?" I yelled as he came back up for air.
"Swimming in the pond!" He yelled back, then went back underwater. John smiled, shaking his head.
"Do you have any idea what you have gotten yourself into?" He asked as we both watched him surface once more, looking all around the rather large area of water in frustration.
"I'm starting to get an idea." I muttered with a smirk.
"Will one of you blundering fools help me!" He shouted at us, going back under water. We stared at the water for a second before looking at each other.
"Rock, paper, scissors?" I asked. With a nod, we both went.
"Damn." I muttered, standing and taking my jacket off. "Well, at least I can cross off 'Swimming in a filthy pond with a raging psychopath' on my list of things I must do before I die."
I was in the shower, letting the hot water run on me as I tried to forget about the nasty pond I just spent an hour in. It would seem he was looking for the knife that killed Colson. Said it was only logical it would be in that pond even though there was one at every complex.
"You know what I don't understand?" At the sudden voice I slipped and fell onto my back, hissing in pain. I opened the curtain only to show my head, staring at Sherlock, who currently sat against the door, legs stretched out. He smiled at me and I groaned, closing the curtain and standing, wincing some as my back was now hurting.
"Privacy?" I spat.
"Hm? What, oh no! I understand that fully. I just choose to ignore it." I hit my forehead against the wall. "What I don't understand is why woman take so long in the bathroom. What could possibly take so long?" I shook my head at his question. This man is absolutely bonkers.
"What are you doing in here?" I tiredly asked.
"Ugh, John is being dull and sightseeing. Refuses to entertain me." He groaned.
"So you bother me in the shower?" I growled, glaring at him as I popped my head out of the shower. He stared at me confused.
"I'm not in the shower." I groaned once more, pulling my head back in. For someone so smart, he was very simple.
"Will you just get out so I can get changed?" I almost pleaded.
"What? Afraid I might see something of the female anatomy I've never seen before?"
"No, Sherlock. It's a matter of your being polite and me having some pride." I shot, only to be further annoyed.
"Polite is boring and you don't have pride." I paused at his response, looking up in thought. I knew I should be angry, but the smug bastard was right. I sighed and turned the shower off, climbing out."Alright then, so what is it?" I asked as I began to dry off.
"This case." I sighed, hitting the back of his head on the door. "Doesn't make sense. There are, of course, the obvious parts." I rolled my eyes as I put on some underwear.
"What's obvious about any of this?" I asked, looking at him as I put a bra on. I found it both amusing and weird as he looked at me, not a single hint of lust, want, or sex in his eyes. He merely seemed… Bored.
"She was stabbed in the back, literality, by a knife, but the murderer shot her to make it seem more brutal then needed be. That leaves us with a love quarrel." I put on pants and a shirt, kicking him so he would move. "What I don't get is why. Why did they do it?" He stood and followed me through the living room and into the patio, me sitting in my normal chair, and him standing in front of the screen, staring at the pond. "You're more muscular then you look." He suddenly said, keeping his back to me.
"Yeah, well, liv-" I cut myself off, only to have him look at me over his shoulder, calculating eyes narrowed. Then they grew wide, a smile growing on his face.
"Ohhh, yes!" He suddenly said, turned and sitting in the chair behind him. He sat there a moment , staring at me, before, smiling once again. "I had it all wrong, at the restaurant the other day!" He shook his head, laughing some. "Why didn't you tell me! Ugh, never mind, don't answer that. Dull question anyway." He shook his hand before his eyes went back to me. "How long then?" He did a once over on me with his eyes. "Hm, yes, now that I know what I'm looking for I can see it." He smiled that sarcastic one of his. "It's not that you were kicked out by your parents at a young age, it's that you've never had parents." I clenched my jaw at this, narrowed my eyes at him.
"Don't." I growled, but he went on anyway.
"You lived in foster care until you were, what? 13? Yeah, sounds about right. Snuck out and have been living on your own. Well, not living. Been sneaking into places like this." He tilted his head a fraction. "Use to be a street rag woman to get a place to stay, money and food. But found that you couldn't live like that anymore and moved here." My hands turned into fists as he went on, body in full rage. "You're smart. Very smart. Too keen for people to handle." He raised an eyebrow now. "You don't like people. They infuriate you. So dull and blissfully unaware of how real life is. You've had sex, but never had any lovers. Emotions scare you. You see what it does to people. So, you created a shell. And now, any kind of human connection you almost cower at it. Kind of pathetic actually." With that I stood and walked out of the door that lead to the walking path around the pond. There was only so much I could take form this man.