"Ms. Mertz, please try to calm down." John pleaded. She sobbed into her handkerchief.
"Oh my, Mr. Watson-" She sobbed.
"Please, call me John." He said, trying to put an arm around the ancient lady. John was nervous she was going to just fall on the floor, dead, from shaking and crying so much. As he tried to comfort her, her smell (of cats) made John want to put his shirt over his nose to get the smell out of his nostrils.
"Well, John, I just…" She blew her nose. "I just miss him so much!" She bawled. She put her head into her hands as John patted her back.
"There, there. Don't cry. I know losing someone dear is…" He looked up at Sherlock. "Hard. Painful, like a stab into the heart."
"Exactly!" She threw her arms up into the air. She walked over to a soft, green chair and sat down. Sherlock turned away from his investigating (which consisted of looking at a drawer and a clock). He nodded his head and sat down on the couch, across from her.
"Ms. Mertz, did your husband have anything to do with… criminals?" He asked. Ms. Mertz shook her head a little too soon.
Sherlock looked at John, who shrugged.
"Did he ever have people over for big parties?" Sherlock asked suddenly.
"Oh, well yes! He had many men over. Never much women except for this one lady who would always come. She would always give him something, I never saw what though." Ms. Mertz sighed as a cat jumped onto her lap.
"Did this woman look old?" Sherlock did the thing with his fingers again. John rolled his eyes as Sherlock stared at the woman intently.
"Uh, no. Frankly, she was quite young. Don't know what she was doing hanging around a bunch of old men." Ms. Mertz sighed. Sherlock all of a sudden had a slow, wicked grin stretch across his face.
"Did this woman have brown hair and red lipstick on?" He asked. contemplated about this and then nodded. She stroked the cat's back.
"Ah, but the poor dear. Stopped coming after my husband slowly began to change. you see, he went through a phase where he talked very little and stay up in his room. Sometimes I would peek in and see so many beakers full of… concoctions he's created or got from someone." She shook her head.
"Do you know her name?" Sherlock asked. John knew by the look on Sherlock's face, he already did.
"No, no dear. I don't remember." Ms. Mertz sighed and scratched behind the cat's ears. The cat purred and nuzzled up to her.
"May I take a look at your husband's room?" John asked. Ms. Mertz gestured to the stairs.
"Please."
John walked up the stairs and realized Sherlock was not far behind. They walked to Mr. Mertz's room. John pushed open the door slightly, afraid to make too much noise. He saw a huge table with different beakers of all shapes and sizes. Some were still being boiled, others were dripping into other liquids. Sherlock sniffed the air.
"What in God's name are you doing?" John asked. Sherlock pulled him back and slammed the door. John tried to get to the door again but Sherlock stood in between him and the door.
"C'mon, me through-"
"No. John, that room is full of extremely toxic chemicals. No wonder that man died. He was hanging around that smell everyday." Sherlock stared at John for a moment. John shrugged and Sherlock shook his head.
"This man was a chemist. Not a regular one who just makes concoctions and mixtures for science." Sherlock shook his head. "No, this man made unnatural things."
After some more peeking around, Sherlock and John said goodbye to Ms. Mertz. She hugged them and thanked them. She hoped they would help her with her husband's case.
"The man was in the drug business?" John asked as they walked away from the house. Sherlock nodded. "Then, what about the woman?"
"Oh, Sherlock!" They heard Ms. Mertz call. Sherlock grinned and spun around.
"Yes?"
"I realized her name! It was Irene! Irene Adler!" Sherlock nodded his head.
"Ah, thank you, Ms. Mertz!" Sherlock yelled. He turned back around and John looked at him in confusion.
"Bingo," Sherlock muttered under his breath.