The taxi pulled up outside of flat. The only signs of life where the flashing blue lights from the police cars and the police wondering around for any signs that it could have been a murder. Once again Sergeant Donovan was on crowd control and she didn't look very pleased to see Sherlock.

"Goodie. The freak and his companion. Oh, look a teenager, isn't she a bit young for you." Donovan said sarcastically. "Who is she anyway?"

"She is a…friend. That is staying with us for a while. Lestrade has allowed her to come, so if you don't mind." Sherlock pushed straight past her with John and Rosie following. "Out of my Anderson."

Anderson grabbed hold of Rosie's arm and span her around. "A bit of advice kid, stay away from Sherlock Holmes. The sort of psycho that you don't want to be getting involved because one day those days a body in there will be because of him."

"Yeah, I guess you're right I suppose. You've known for a while so I better take what you said into account for my safety…but I think I'll get to know him a bit more before I start making judgements such as yours and basing them off rude opinions. Now if you don't mind would you please let go of my arm." Anderson did as she asking and Rosie started to walk off and called back. "It's highly-functioning sociopath. He's not a psycho."

"Good to see she's inherited your charm." John said to Sherlock as Rosie caught them up.

Once they reached the flat it was a large flat that was about the same size as a floor at 221B. Sherlock introduced Rosie to Lestrade and got straight to work. He examined the room whilst Greg, John and Rosie watched him at work. He reached the body again in the middle of the room. Once again it was a middle-aged business woman with cuts on legs, arms and neck. No previous suggestion that she had self-harmed before. Sherlock again found a note in her hand.

I really do think that you are going to enjoy this game, Sherlock

Sherlock smiled the killer was making it easy for him. He didn't like easy. He pocketed the note without the others realising. He then studied the room around him, everything was neat and tidy. Perfectly aligned, facing the way and nothing out of place. Mugs facing the same direction and all unused plugs turned off. Thoroughly cleaned, no sign of dust or dirt anywhere. This suggested to Sherlock, OCD.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked.

"Yep." The consultant stood. "This quite obviously; a woman, who had recently returned from a business meeting from the way that she is dressed and her make up. She clearly has some form of OCD because nothing is out of place, all equally aligned, mugs facing the same direction and all unused plugs off. On medication but rarely uses it because of the several unopened packets from about a year ago, despite what you believe, Graham…"

"It's Greg," The DI cut off Sherlock.

"Yes sorry, this is not a suicide once again it is a murder scene." Sherlock finished.

Rosie looked both confused and amazed at how he knew all of that. "That was so cool."

"Deductions are all well and good Sherlock. But can you prove its murder, otherwise it looks like another suicide that I the same as the last. We found another knife in the victim's hand."

"Two suicides, potential more, committed in the exact way." The detective said in a patronising way.

"Do you have proof?" The DI asked.

"I know it wasn't suicide."

"That's not enough, Sherlock. You it isn't." Lestrade said getting annoyed.

"It wasn't suicide." Rosie piped up.

"What?" Lestrade and Sherlock said together.

"It's not suicide." Rosie suddenly felt all eyes on her. "I know, I'm 15 but I can tell you that it's not a murder."

"Go on." Sherlock said in his deep voice.

Rosie her hands out of her pockets of her jacket. "The murder is clever, to make it look suicide because the cuts are all in places that a self-harmer would go for. But there's one thing, the cuts aren't self-inflicted."

"How the bloody hell can you tell that?" Lestrade asked shocked that a 15-year-old could tell that.

"May I?" Lestrade nodded and Rosie approached the body with gloves on her hands. She indicated the cuts. "If they were self-inflicted they should be clean, straight cuts. Nice and simple. But these are different, their jagged. A struggled before she became too weak and by the way its shaped it suggests that someone else did it. People who are cutting because they want to kill themselves don't do it in the middle of their living room floor, they do it in a bath tub full of water."

"How do you know all of that?" John asked obviously concerned.

"My friend, Oliver. He self-harmed." Rosie showed her arms. "Look I don't cut. Just so we are clear. Oh…oh…their jagged."

"Don't get carried away." Sherlock said trying to get his daughter to stop before she made a fool of herself.

"What sort of knife did you say you found on the victims?" Rosie asked.

"Kitchen knives, covered in blood. The first had the victim's fingerprints on and I'm sure this one will as well." Lestrade explained.

"Oh" Sherlock said in disbelief.

"Do you want to explain for the less informed?" John asked.

"You can tell that they aren't self-inflicted not only because of the way they are shaped but because they are jagged. A kitchen knife would leave a cut that has a straight edge meaning that the only sort of knife that can leave cuts like that are serrated. Are me and Rosie the only smarts ones in the room." Sherlock said with excitement as both John and Greg nodded in realisation.

"Well it looks like we have a murder case on our hands." Lestrade sighed heavily.

The trio returned and Rosie went into her bedroom and laid back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling. She had found after 10 years and helped prove a murder case. As days go for the past few months, this isn't too bad. Rosie up a picture of her and her mum, she looked at the picture and a tear fell down her face. There was a knock at her door. Rosie wiped her face.

"Yeah." Rosie called out.

Sherlock walked into the room and sat next to Rosie on her bed.

"Thank you earlier for what you said to Anderson and Donovan. It's good to see them be shut up by someone that isn't me for once." Sherlock said with a small smile on his face.

"That's ok. You didn't tell them were related though." Rosie wondered.

"They're not the sort of people that I wanting out I have a child and for you to have to endure their abuse about me being your father. They really aren't my greatest fans and the will assume the same about you as they do about me. The freak's daughter. I couldn't have them do that to you." Sherlock put his arm around Rosie and pulled her into a hug.

"Thanks dad."