I pounded on the door of 221B Baker Street. When the door finally opened, it was Mrs. Hudson.
"Hello, Dr. Watson, how can I help you?" she said sweetly.
"Good afternoon, is Scarlett here? This is kind of emergency," I said quickly.
"She's just up the stairs, dear."
"Thank-you," I said brushing past her and darting up the stairs. The door was open so I walked inside. The main room was cluttered with books and papers. Two small armchairs sat in front of a warm fireplace which acted as the only light in the room. I noticed a new violin sitting in one chair and an old, dusty violin on top of a bookshelf. A target was hung on the wall with arrows sticking out from in. Then, out of nowhere, an arrow comes straight at my head. I ducked and hit the floor, looking back up I saw the arrow had entered the wood of the door frame about an inch away from where my head was.
"What the hell are you doing here, Watson? Actually, I know why you're here, there's been another murder. but that still doesn't act as an excuse," said Scarlett. I struggled up and saw her across the room coming out of the shadows. She had a quiver belted across her back and bow in her hand. This was actually the first time I had seen her without her coat and scarf. Scarlett kept her dark jeans, black riding boots, and a black form-fitting tank top.
"How did you hear about the murder? The woman was killed only 45 minutes ago," I said.
"Hey, idiot, my eyes are up here," she said, and I snapped my eyes up. Scarlett unbuckled the quiver strap and laid it, along with the bow, on the small couch against the wall. "And way else would you come here if it weren't for another murder?"
"Look, let's me just get it out, I know who your dad was," I started.
"And I know who your dad is," said Scarlett getting in my face. "Also, don't you dare talk about my father like he's gone." She turned and went into the kitchen. I followed her.
"My point is, people are dying very bloody and I think you are the only one in this whole city who can help them, Scarlett."
"People die every day, it's the natural order of things," she said.
"It's natural for a woman to enter a hair salon to get her hair trimmed and end with her throat slashed?" I took out my phone and held up the picture of the dead woman. Scarlett stared at the screen with her eyebrows pushed together.
"If you are anything like your father you will help me track this killer down," I said.
Scarlett turned her back to me. "And who said I'm anything like my dad? Who says I even want ,?"
"I think you do, Scarlett," I almost whispered. "That's his scarf that you wear isn't it? You've kept it all these years to stay close to him. You love him and he loved you."
"He never loved me! He made me into a freak that can see every little detail in a person by just getting a single glance! He left me, James!" Scarlett shouted. I saw a tear in her eye but she held it back.
"You and I both know that that's not true," I said. I needed to talk to her; I needed her to know that she's just as much as freak as I am.
"Then tell me where my father is," she spat.
I stood there awkwardly. "I get it, you feel lonely and lost and confused; I may never know what it's like to lose someone like that. But you have to understand that you're not alone. I'm here aren't I? If I was at all like normal people, do you think I would still be here after you shot at my head with a real arrow?"
"I didn't shoot at it, I shot near it." She smiled and I laughed.
"That's the first time I've actually seen you smile," I said.
"Well, we have only met two times and one out of the two you ran me over."
"Hey, I said I was sorry about that," I said. We stood alone in silence. "Scarlett, innocent women are being killed and unless we work together, they will continue to die. Please, Holmes, I'm begging you."
Scarlett looked at me. "The murders are based on children's stories. So far, Cinderella and Rapunzel have already been done."
"The quotes?" I pondered.
"The quotes are lines, fragments, from each story. 'Five minutes until midnight,' that's when Cinderella had to leave the ball before she turned back into a maid in rags. 'Let your hair down,' is what the witch said when she wanted Rapunzel to let down her hair so that she could climb up into the tower."
"Alright, that makes sense," I said leaning against the counter. "But are there any clues that could tell us what insane person could have done this?"
"Not person, James, persons. There are two involved," said Scarlett putting a kettle on the stove.
"What?"
"I didn't see it until you showed me the picture of the newest homicide. The window was wide open with people always walking past it, they would have had to kill her, cut her hair, and write the message in a least under a minute. One person cut her hair, while the other slit her neck and wrote the message in her blood. So, if I were you, I would prepare for trouble."
"And make it double." We laughed for a few solid minutes before we could pull ourselves together. "Alright, murder isn't funny," I said wiping my eye.
Scarlett poured herself a cup of tea. "Do you want one?"
"I'll have to skip it, I got to get home," I said.
"You're in your twenties and you're still living with your parents?"
"I'm only 24 and I never said anything about my parents."
"That's sad."
"Oh, shut up," I snapped.
"See you tomorrow," Scarlett said sipping her tea.
"Wait, so does this mean that we are working together?" I asked hopefully.
"Just go home, Mama's boy." I'll take that as a yes. I grabbed my jacket and my bag and left out the door. Old Mrs. Hudson met me at the bottom of the stairs.
"Thank-you, James. She needs someone to talk to," she said sweetly and handed me a jar.
"Is this jam?" I asked.
"Tell your father that I miss him," she said. I tucked the jam safely in bag and pulled up my collar to face the rain.
"I will," I said and headed out the door. I called a cab and the entire ride home I kept thinking to myself; what the hell have I gotten myself into?