The feeling of disappointment was still felt in John's eyes when he woke up. He sat on the edge of his bed and looked outside. The snow had stopped falling, but the sky was still grey and the ground perfectly covered in white.

''Already up Sherlock? Don't tell me you've been working all night!'' said Mr. Hudson, a cup of tea in her hand coming in the room.

'' When these graven lines you see,
Traveller, do not pity me;
though I be among the dead,
let no mournful word be said.''Recited Sherlock with a slow and tired voice. He was lying down on the couch, both his hand under his chin in his usual thinking position.

''Well well! What is that poem ?''

''Edwin Arlington Robinson : A happy man. The poem was found in the right pocket of Mrs Combri.''

''We think that she was killed by an animal, seeing her injuries on her body.'' In fact, she had multiple bites on her body. 4 in total: on her left arm; her right leg; in her neck and on her left hip. But of course, Sherlock already knew it was there to make them believe it was an animal that had caused her death. She had clearly been beaten to death with an object on her forehead. If it had been an animal, it would have eaten her entirely seeing the size of his mouth.

After reading the poem that was placed inside the women's pocket, everything was pointing straight at the husband. It was too obvious of course.

''morning.'' Said John, already dressed heading towards the kitchen to make himself a tea. Sherlock responded in a small noise which vaguely resembled a ''yes''.

''What are you waiting for Sherlock?''

''10am.''

''Where are you going?''

''to visit the husband of the... nice try John but I won't tell you more.''

John sighted.

''I wasn't trying to-...''

Sherlock stood up so quickly that it nearly scared John.

''Then why were you asking?''

Even he couldn't answer. It just felt natural to ask, but natural in what way?

''I was just... wondering.''

Sherlock came near him with an intrigued look.

''That was clearly an excuse to hide the truth that you don't want to accept John.''

Yes, he was right, but Watson thought he could avoid the subject longer than that.

''Don't worry I forgive you about the jumper incident.''

''You know what I'm talking about.''

He couldn't look at him in the eye. He knew that if he would, Sherlock would understand immediately. Actually, the chances of him already knowing were around 89% anyway. The conversation was interrupted by a ringing sound.

''John do you mind getting my phone?'' John looked behind him and saw the small phone on the table in the kitchen. He grabbed it without thinking and handed it rashly to Sherlock who snapped it out quickly from his hand before opening it.

''Time for me to go. Do you want to come? I'll explain everything on the way.''

When he turned back to his flatmate, he already had his jacket in his hand and a positive look on his face. Sherlock did I tiny smile before grabbing his coat and scarf and walking out of the apartment with his companion.

''I'm surprised you haven't solved this case already.''

Said John in the cab.

''I told you before, I don't want to resolve this case without you.''

''Actually no, you said you couldn't. So you just want me to work with you is that it?''

''You really are stupid. We have arrived.''

He didn't have time to ask why that Sherlock was already out of the cab. The black car left leaving both men knocking at the entrance door. A 50 year old man opened the door.

''Sorry for disturbing you in the middle of a nice moment with you new girlfriend but we would like to ask you questions about your wife's death.'' Said Sherlock with a cold face.

''Who are...? How did you...?

''The time you took to open the door, the top button of your shirt has been rashly closed, you have no shoes or socks, the blond hair on your right shoulder and your face expresses the non_wanting of our presents. I could continue even longer but I think this shall do.''

He presented his hand.

''Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Watson from the police. Hello Mr. Combri. ''