John stands in front of the isolated building to which Wilson has led him. It's a run-down looking place, not somewhere that John would usually go.
He inspects it from a distance, trying to figure out what makes it a good place to hide a murder. Nothing seems out of the ordinary except for the unusual silence in this part of the city. Maybe that's what makes it a good place to hide a crime. He shrugs slightly, unable to recognize any other distinguishing features about the place.
John quickly glances at Wilson. He's standing at the edge of the road, and he looks extremely worried. John can't deduce anything from his demeanor.
He wishes that Sherlock were here. If he were here, Sherlock would have probably already found the clue that would solve the whole murder and identify the murderer. He was always strange that way. Always getting down on his hands and knees, inspecting the ground. He would have found every footprint leading up to the alley and analyzed them to find out exactly what type of shoe by which it was made, and then he would have used all of this information to figure out the height and demeanor of both the killer and the victim.
John looks around, trying to find any footprints, but he can't. He doesn't understand how Sherlock used to do this. He tries to push this thinking out of his head as soon as it arrives. He only partially succeeds in this.
To John's relief, Wilson walks up beside him, distracting him from his own painful thoughts.
"Sir," he begins. "I… I saw the body behind this building." John still cannot figure out why any criminal might have chosen this building to murder someone behind. Maybe it wasn't planned.
So far, all John can determine is that the building is a restaurant. Suddenly, John realizes something: the restaurant is currently not open. The building looks run-down, and its windows are boarded up, so John guesses that it might be out of business.
"That could be why it is an opportune place to hide a body," whispers John to himself. That's definitely a likely explanation for the choice of building. John suddenly feels embarrassed. He can't believe that it took him this long to figure out. If Sherlock were here, that wouldn't have been a problem. John shakes his head, and he turns to Wilson. He shrugs and tries to brush off the embarrassment he's feeling.
"Lead the way!" he announces with a sigh.
Wilson nods somewhat nervously and turns toward the building. He walks past the restaurant into the alley on the side of the building. He turns back around to John, looking extremely nervous. Wilson obviously doesn't want to go back to the scene. This makes John curious. How bad is it? Did Wilson actually have something to do with the murder? Maybe he actually was the murderer. These considerations make John extremely suspicious. He wonders if he should have agreed to come with Wilson alone.
John pauses for a moment, unsure whether or not he should continue.
Wilson notices his uneasiness. "I'm sorry… I realize how bad you must be feeling 'bout this. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I can call the police if you'd like that. I just… wanted to avoid that if I could. You know, I don't have a particularly good history with the police. We can go back…"
"No," John quickly responds. He's obviously made Wilson feel embarrassed, and now John's feeling guilty for it. "I don't… we don't need to go back. I'm fine. I apologize for my hesitation, I've just had a rough couple of days."
Wilson nods gratefully. "I'm sorry if this is inconveniencing you at all, I just… it seemed like something that I should tell someone about pretty quick, and you were the first person I thought to call. Your colleague, Sherlock Holmes, helped one of my friends a little while ago. My friend said that he solved his case easily, so I thought maybe you two would be the best people to call. You know, apart from the police."
Wilson says all of this with a curious look. John guesses it's because of the fact that Sherlock hadn't come. Wilson probably hadn't heard of the death yet.
"I saw it…the body… behind here," Wilson adds weakly. He is definitely hesitant to return to the area, but John realizes that this is pretty normal. The man had just seen a murder scene. Of course he's not enthusiastic about going back to see it, especially since there's a high chance that he'll be considered a suspect in the murder.
Again, John feels stupid for not realizing such a simple fact as this.
He follows Wilson, keeping his grip steady and firm on the revolver he is carrying. As curious as John is, the unshakeable feeling that Sherlock should be here dulls his excitement. It just feels completely unnatural to be at any crime scene without Sherlock. He tries to shake off the feeling. Sherlock would want me to keep going, he thinks to himself. But it just feels… different.
Wilson begins talking. "Sir, it's… right there. Right over there."
John immediately becomes more alert. He draws the revolver out of his coat and holds it tightly. It just now occurs to him that this could be a trap. He shakes his head, trying to ignore the doubts that are creeping into his mind. He walks in the direction that Wilson is pointing.
John can see the shape of the body. The alley is engulfed in shadows, so he can't see much. John's fairly sure that it's a man, and a tall one. But apart from this, he can tell little about the murder.
He slowly and cautiously walks up beside the corpse.
Suddenly, the revolver tumbles to the ground.
John starts to hyperventilate. Shaking, he turns back around to Wilson.
"What…" he can't finish his sentence.
John drops down to his knees next to the body, completely bewildered. He stares at it for a second longer, eyes wide, then buries his head in his hands.
"What… what is going on?" he mumbles. John peers through his hands at the body once again, it is clear what he is seeing isn't a hallucination.
John plainly sees the corpse of Sherlock Holmes with a bullet wound in the head.