Chapter Five

As the cab pulled up, the pair of them getting out, Aven saw all the police activity in the street; flashing lights, police tape, people in uniforms as well as fewer people in regular clothes, but with an air of importance about them. Sherlock seemed quite used to the activity however and just walked confidently towards what appeared to be the source.

"Hello Freak" Came a female voice. Snapping one visible eye to the woman, she saw a mousy looking woman with rather frizzy hair standing behind the tape.

Sherlock just ignored the opening comment. "I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade."

The woman just turned to him. "Why?"

"I was invited." Sherlock threw back at her, sounding tired of the interaction already.

"Why?" Was the childish reply.

"I think he wants me to take a look." Well if she wants to act like a child, he thought.

The woman just sneered at him. "Well, you know what I think don't you?"

"Always Sally." Countered Sherlock, pulling the tape over his head, holding it up for Aven. He hadn't noticed any familiarity when they arrived, but was still keeping a close eye on her. Breathing in through his nose however, he caught something else. "I even know you didn't make it home last night…"

"I don't -" She started, but noticed Aven about to move under the tape. "Wait, who's this?"

"Colleague of mine; Aven Ash." He explained, Aven just looking to Sally, waiting to be let in. "Aven Ash, meet Sgt Sally Donovan; old friend."

Sally didn't seem to believe him though. "A colleague? How do you get a colleague?"

Aven just smiled at the woman, ducking under the tape. "Very good luck."

Sally just sighed, going ahead. "Freak's here, bringing him in."

Aven just carried on looking around, though not as physically as Sherlock was doing, examining the stone floor they walked on, spinning in quick circles, checking out the entire space they wee in. On turning back to face they way they were heading however, he found a bird featured man in a blue suit, greasy hair falling past his ears. "Ahh, Anderson." He started, knowing what was to come. "Here we are again…"

The man just drew himself up, chin in the air, trying to compete with Sherlock's height. "This is a crime, I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

"Quite clear." He replied, ignoring the mans offensive posture. "And is your wife away for long?"

"Oh don't pretend you worked that out, someone told you that." Anderson shot back.

Sherlock just looked bored. "Your deodorant told me that."

Frowning slightly, Aven gave Sherlock a strange look. Apparently she wasn't the only one confused. "My deodorant told you that?"

"It's for men!" Sherlock replied animatedly.

This only confused them more however. "Well of course its for men; I'm wearing it!"

Sherlock just looked him in the eye. "So's Sgt Donavan."

Aven just raised an eyebrow, chuckling to herself; certainly more entertaining than the village!

Anderson however just looked to Sally, both shocked. Before he had a chance to defend himself however, Sherlock did a very dramatic sniff. "And I think its just vaporised." He joked. "May we go in?"

"Now whatever your implying here…" The forensic started, but Sherlock beat him to the punch.

"I'm not implying anything!" The man defended, tone saying something entirely different. "I'm sure Sally just popped round for a nice chat and just happened to stay over." Aven just smirked and followed after the observant man, smirk growing with every new deduction about the pair, implications clear as day. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors going by the state of her knees…"

Still chucking quietly to herself, the two of them went through to the main room where they were set up, Sherlock handing her a blue suit the same as Anderson's. "You'll need to put this on."

"Not really my colour, but alright." She replied, taking the suit off him and starting to step into it, doing so easily with the fitted clothes she was wearing.

Lestrade seemed to have other ideas though. "Who's this?"

"She's with me." Was the only answer the DI got from the man.

"Yes, but who is she?" He persisted.

Sherlock just looked him in the eye. "I said, she's with me."

The DI sighed and looked to the unusual looking young woman. He was slightly distracted by her in that moment, the young woman having taken off her coat and put it to the side, pulling most of her hair back into a bobble to keep it out of her way; leaving her in the blue suit, done up to just below her bust, her corset clad figure showing clearly, choker and her dark make up, thick fringe still covering half her face.

Seeing his lingering gaze, Aven just smirked, finding that she rather liked the men of the city, not so quick to judge a darker woman. Letting her hands fall to her side again, she flashed him a crooked smirk and flicked her fringe back slightly so that her other eye could see, winking at the man before following after Sherlock.

Snapping out of his daze by the sound of her heels, Lestrade shook his head, not knowing what even come over him then. Clearing his throat, he followed after them, catching them up on the situation.

"We're on the top floor." The DI started. "Call came in a few hours ago. Name's Jenifer Wilson. We're checking her credit cards and everything now. Some kids found her…"

At this new information, Aven thought of those kids and what they must be going through. "Poor kids…"

When they reached the top floor, Lestrade went in first, stepping aside for the others, Sherlock looking around instantly, analyzing every speck. Aven hung back by the doorway, seeing the blond woman face down in an empty, dusty room. What a way to go.

Suddenly Sherlock looked up. "Shut up." He told Lestrade.

Lestrade however was brought out of his thoughts. "I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking." The man replied. "It's annoying."

It seemed Lestrade was about to argue back but then thought better of it, sighing quietly to himself.

Having what he thought would be appropriate silence, Sherlock started to see everything he could about the corpse clad in pink in front of him; the scratches in the floor, her fingernails, wedding ring, necklace, bracelet, umbrella, coat, the collar of the coat, the back of her calf. It all ran through his mind, almost as if it were written in little notes before his very eyes.

Serial adulteress.

Standing straight again after less than a minutes, he removed the gloves he'd put on, taking out his phone.

"Got anything?" Asked Lestrade, knowing the man worked fast.

"Not much," He replied.

An annoying voice chipped in then. "She's German."

Aven raised an eyebrow and Anderson. "Oh, really…?" She didn't know much at the moment, but she did know the woman wasn't German.

"Rache." Anderson said, talking slowing, as if to a slow child. "It's German for revenge. I think she was trying to tell us something."

Aven really didn't like the man now; she wasn't stupid by any means. "Or she was writing something in English and didn't get round to finishing it." She countered, throwing him a challenging look.

"No, no, you see-" he started to argue back, still in the most condescending voice she had ever heard. However he was quickly shut out, literally, by Sherlock closing the door on him.

"Yes, thank you for your input." Sherlock said, more out of standardisation than anything else.

Lestrade spoke up then, wanting to check the word of one of his men over Aven's, much to her distaste. "Hold up now, Sherlock. She could be German."

"Of course she's not." Dismissed the man. "She's from out of town though. Intended to stay one night before returning home for Cardiff. So far so obvious."

Aven though was having trouble keeping up; she wasn't used to physical evidence to work with. "Sorry, obvious?"

Lestrade appeared to be having the same problem. "But what about the message?" Aven just shot him a look.

"Miss Ash, what do you think?" Sherlock asked. Eyes are different again, he noted, the colour becoming more of a dark but clear blue colour, like a deep sea.

She frowned slightly, thinking before she spoke. "Well, if it's a message, and she knew she were dying, it wouldn't be long. Might even say no more than the single word."

"So…?" The man encouraged.

"So, the only thing I can see it being would be Rachel." She answered, knowing as soon as the name passed her lips it was the right answer.

A ghost of a smile flickered across his features, intelligence. It was gone by the time he turned to Lestrade though. "Did Anderson manage to get a cause of death or not?"

Lestrade hesitated for a second, knowing the consultant wouldn't like the answer. "Not yet." Sherlock sighed loudly. "But there was talk that it looked the same as the others."

"Good enough for now then I guess." Replied Sherlock, unhappy that a team of people couldn't figure out how one woman died. I bet I could bring in a random doctor and it would take them two minutes, he thought irritably.

"Well?" Asked Lestrade, getting impatient.

"Victim's in in her later 30's, professional person; judging by her clothes, I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff intending to stay for one day, judging by the size of her suitcase."

"Suitcase?" Asked Lestrade.

"Yes. She's married, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers, but none of them knew she was married." He continued.

Lestrade just looked in disbelief. "Are you making this stuff up?"

"Her wedding ring." Sherlock pointed out. "Ten years old at least. The rest of the jewellery as been regularly cleaned, cared for. Not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside, which means its regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. Its not for work, look at her nails, she doesn't work with her hands much. So it must be for something else, so what does she remove her rings for, or rather who? Clearly not one lover, she'd never sustain the illusion of being single that amount of time, so most likely a string of them. Simple."

"That's brilliant" Aven praised, truly seeing the man in his element here. Sherlock just looked at her though, not used to such descriptions of himself. Thinking she may have interrupted his line of though, she held up her hands slightly. "Sorry."

Lestrade broke the silence then. "Cardiff?"

Sherlock frowned slightly. "Its obvious isn't it?"

Aven shook he head though. "Not obvious to me."

This only made him frown more. "Dear god. What must it be like in your funny little heads? It must be so boring."

Aven started chuckling slightly thinking that if he were in her head, he wouldn't be bored ever again. However after another funny look from him, she cleared her throat and tried to keep quiet.

He explained. "Her coat. It's slightly damp; she's been in heavy rain in the last few hours, no rain in London in that time. The underside of her collar is damp too, she had it turned up against the wind, but her umbrella was dry. So strong wind. Too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was only intending to stay the one night so she's come a fair distance, but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still isn't dry. So, where has there been strong wind and rain within that travel time?" He got out his phone, showing them the weather report on the screen. "Cardiff."

Aven could honestly say she was very impressed. "That's fantastic!"

Sherlock seemed to find it very unlikely she'd praise him so much in such a short space of time though. "Do you know you do that out loud?"

"Sorry." She repeated, still shocked at the genius of it all. "I'll shut up now."

"No." He countered, making her look up. "It's fine."

She just smirked slightly at him. "But good as you are, there's something you've missed." She told him, smirk growing as his face dropped.

"What?"

She let a chuckle slip through, eyes twinkling, green seeping through again. "There's something you've missed." She said again slowly.

Having had enough of her crypticness, Lestrade spoke up. "Why do you keep going on about a case?"

Sherlock just looked her deep in the eyes, thinking about everything; then it clicked. Spinning around in a circle, he searched the bare room. Finding nothing, he turned to Lestrade. "Where is the suitcase?"

"That's what I'm saying Sherlock." The DI explained. "There was no case."

Sherlock bolted out of the room then, shouting through the building. "Has anyone seen a suitcase? Did anyone find a case in this house at all?"

They followed after him quickly, Lestrade repeating himself. "Sherlock, there was no case!"

Leaning over the balcony, they saw he'd stopped halfway down the stairs. "They take the poison themselves. Chew, swallow the poison themselves. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them."

"Yeah right, thanks." Lestrade muttered, but seeing Sherlock was on his way out, he tried to stop the man first. "And?"

"Its murder." He replied, looking up to them. "I don't know how, but its murder. All of them. They're not suicides. They're killings, serial killings. Got ourselves a serial killer, love those!" He exclaimed, taking off towards the exit again. "Always something to look forward to."

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade questioned, though not sure if it was for information or his own sanity.

"Her case." Sherlock replied. "Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Someone else was here and took the case with them when they left. So the killer probably drove here." Se started, thinking aloud again. "Forgot the case was in the car. And it wouldn't be at the hotel, look at her hair! She colour co-ordinates her lipstick and her shoes, she'd never leave the hotel with her hair looking like…" But he stopped then, an idea coming to him.

Aven smiled slightly, knowing the genius was on the right track, just needing a prompt to get him to explain it. "You okay, Sherlock?"

The madman just grinned. "Serial killers, always hard. Gotta wait for them to make a mistake."

Lestrade didn't like this answer though. "We don't have time to wait!"

"No, look at her, really look!" Sherlock countered. "Houston we have the mistake! Get onto Cardiff!" He ordered, running off again. "Find out who Jenifer Wilson's family and friends were! Find Rachel!"

"Of course, yeh." Lestrade started but seeing the man had just gone out of sight he shouted down, "But what mistake?!"

"Pink!" Was the only reply they got before Sherlock ran out the front door.

Aven just looked after him, even though he was gone already. Giving out a short hmm, she turn around, going back to the body in the room. Lestrade folwed her, part curiosity, partly to make she she didn't disturb anything.

Lestrade heard her muttering to herself, trying to catch up with the madman's thinking. "There must have been something he saw." Thinking about what would happen if you had a suitcase with you, she talked it out. "Pull it behind you... But there was rain… so… " She looked to the backs of the woman's ankles, grinning when she found it. Looking up to Lestrade, she pointed. "Mud splatter."