John

I slept solidly for about four hours that night and then lay in bed watching patterns of light and shadow on the ceiling, listening to the silence and waiting for dawn. It reminded me of Afghanistan; waiting for something you're excited about but don't really want to do, waiting for the waiting to be over, knowing the event will be worse than the waiting ever cracked it up to be but wanting it to come just to release you from the sickening swirl of your imagination.

When morning came I pulled on the first clothes I found in the wardrobe and went to wrestle with the coffee machine Mrs Hudson had recently bought to be more 'with it' apparently. I made a passable latte and then woke Sherlock with a questionable looking espresso in the hope that he'd be even more wired than usual so he'd want to go and look at CCTV and when he did his mind would be ready to work it over using every millimetre of his brain we mere mortals can't process. I sat in the living room, stared without seeing at the news on the TV, waiting for Sherlock. Waiting.

He eventually emerged from his room wearing his usual coat and scarf; he scrutinized me from across the room with his knife eyes.

"What took you so long?" I asked.

"I was just updating The Science of Deduction." He replied with airy indifference and a sweet smile.

I took a deep breath to stop myself from being unnecessarily cruel, "Right. Do you think we might be able to get going now to find out who killed my sister?"

Sherlock looked at me almost reproachfully, "As you so wish."

Sherlock

We took a cab to Wimbledon Park first, swinging by Scotland Yard on the way to pick up Lestrade who was as keen to solve the case as we were. Unsurprisingly the fingerprints I collected from Harry's Shirt were of no use to the police. Apparently they had been sent off to forensics but didn't belong to anyone with a criminal record.

"John," Lestrade said, leaning across me as he sat in the car, "I'm sorry for your loss."

John stretched his face into a tight and somewhat painful looking smile, "It's alright. It's not your fault."

Lestrade nodded and smiled and sat back against the leather of his seat.

We were all three of us squeezed in the back of the cab, John on the side next to the road, forehead resting against the window, eyes glassy and moist, breathing laboured. Trying not to cry again; I was in the middle and Lestrade was on my other side, texting his wife to apologise for how much work he'd been doing lately, he hadn't shaved for three days or slept in his own bed for two. John's thigh was against mine, sending fissions of excitement up my own every time the taxi jolted. I took John's trembling hand from his upper lip and squeezed it still.

I had already made an appointment with the gamekeeper at Wimbledon Park so he was waiting for us the gates when we arrived. On the surface he looked very smart and trim but there was a thin line of shaving foam just under the shadow of his jaw, there were crumbs of toast on one of shirt cuffs and his hair had only been combed using water; it was obvious he normally used gel by the bulge of his wallet in his pocket. Drawing all these things together it was fair to assume he'd left his house in hurry. I didn't know if this fact was significant but it only took me four seconds to work that out. That might very well be a record.

The gamekeeper shook my hand limply and said "Sherlock Holmes, I assume?" As if he were under the delusion that he lived in a spy movie.

"Yes. This is Doctor John Watson and DCI Greg Lestrade." It struck me that I was the only one out of the three of us with no official qualifications but I was the only one who had a vague clue of how to use their mind properly.

"Bob Keogh." Said the gamekeeper.

"Brilliant." John cut in, "Shall we get going, then?"

"Of course. The security control hub is on the other side of the park, I'm afraid, you will notice as we walk through how well maintained our grounds are. You know, we hire certain sections of this park out to some extremely illustrious people-"

"That's great," John interrupted, "But it's not why we're here today."

I put my hand on John's arm and felt the blood racing through tense arteries, "Just try to calm down," I whispered to him, "I realise you're frustrated but you just need to be patient, okay? I can promise you that I will do everything within my power to solve this case."