NUMBER ONE
Chapter 1: Elementary and boring
"We have a case! Come on, John, hurry up, for God's sake, hurry up!", Sherlock was almost screaming at John. "I assume Lestrade needs help again?", John asked calmly, while putting on his coat. "When doesn't he need help?", Sherlock replied sarcastically.
They soon arrived at the crime scene. It was, well, bloody. And messy. Body parts all over freshly painted room. Sherlock was completely focused on the dead body on the floor - he hardly noticed Lestrade, Anderson, a couple of other policemen and basically, he saw nothing but the corpse. For the next couple of minutes, he was frantically running around the room, gathering clues, with his mind running into overdrive. Lestrade and John just looked at each other in silent powerlessness. Finally, Sherlock said: "It was the wife." "Oh, come on, Sherlock, you honestly expect us to believe that you just solved this case in 5 minutes?" "4 minutes and 13 seconds, to be precise", Sherlock replied, after he glanced at his watch. Lestrade opened his mouth in a poor attempt to say something, but he changed his mind and just shut them tight. "Any explanation for us, mere mortals, please?", John asked. "Mark of a wedding ring on his finger is only partially visible - he is married, but he occasionally takes the ring off- probably because he cheats on his wife. Evidence of cheating - a light pink lipstick mark on his collar - according to that picture on the fireplace, his wife is a brunette, there is no way she would wear this particular shade of pink - this is clearly a color for blondes. Blonde hair on his shoulder is confirming this theory." Sherlock was talking faster and faster: "Take a closer look at that picture of him and his wife - they are smiling, but their body language suggests otherwise - their marriage is falling apart. Footprints on the floor suggest that the murderer is female, approximately 132 pounds, with a slight limp on the right leg, probably as a result of a recent injury. And his 132 pounds weight wife has been seeing a doctor because of broken joint, which was a result of a game of tennis gone bad - all of this can be seen from her doctor's prescription that is left on the cupboard. His wife got sick and tired of his lies, she stabbed him in the chest with the kitchen knife, dismembered his body out of pure rage and then left the place in a hurry." Sherlock took a deep breath after finishing his monologue. "Amazing", Lestrade and John shouted simultaneously. "Elementary. And boring", Sherlock answered.
"Well, that was...quite an unusual approach. You are a cop?", a female voice suddenly broke the silence. John and Sherlock both looked at the women that asked the question, but their first impressions of her were completely different.
Sherlock thought: "Hmmm, let's see. Late twenties, attractive, single, American (obviously, she used the word "cop"), recently came to London, nicely tanned, probably lived in Florida or California, doesn't seem like one of Lestrade's puppets - a journalist perhaps (she's holding a voice recorder in her left hand), expensive coat, Prada boots - she is wealthy, apparently having another source of income besides journalist salary..."
At the exact same time all John could think about was: "Dear God, this is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Be calm John, you are a soldier, you should be able to calm yourself - oh, God, she is looking at me, she has amazing eyes, and hair, and, ok, let's face it, she is waaaaay out of my league. Still, a guy can hope, right?"
Lestrade introduced the women to John and Sherlock. "Oh, guys, this is Dianne Swey, she is a journalist from "UK daily" and she will be working with Scotland Yard for a while. Our management had this brilliant idea that public should get to know police detectives through series of newspaper articles, apparently they think that would be good PR for the department. So, Dianne is here to cover our cases and write about our work." Lestrade obviously wasn't very pleased with the idea of having a journalist sniffing around his crime scenes. He had enough of civilians - first Sherlock, and now this journalist. He turned to Dianne: "Meet Sherlock Holmes, our very own consulting detective and his trusty sidekick, dr John Watson".
"So you are the famous Sherlock Holmes. Pleased to meet you. You too, dr Watson. I will just call you Sherlock and John, if that's ok with you? It's much less formal, and since we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the future, it just makes things easier, right?". Dianne looked at the detective and doctor with a big smile on her face. "Of, of, of course, no problem, erm, Dianne", John replied. "Whatever", Holmes said. "Next time, call me when you actually have a case", Sherlock said to Lestrade. "Come on, John, let's go home". Sherlock turned and walked out of the room without saying goodbye to anyone. Sensing how rude his friend was (or maybe for some other reason), John shook Dianne's hand: "It was nice meeting you. See ya all!". As he was walking through that door, John thought to himself: "See ya all? Really, John? You've never said something like that in your life, why now?" But he already knew the answer...
Dianne lost her interest in the murder. After Sherlock's explanation, all that was left for Lestrade and his detectives to do was to catch the homicidal wife. How hard can that be? She was intrigued with the two men she just met. She took her phone and texted: "I just met that detective Sherlock Holmes and his blogger, John Watson, how weird is that? D." Reply came right away: "What do you think of them? M." "Sherlock is interesting, cold and mysterious. John seems nice, he is like a cute little puppy left alone in the rain. D." "And you don't like puppies? M." "I am more into pit bulls. D." Dianne smiled to herself - puppies were definitely not her style.