Author's Note: Hi again! I'm really pleased with the amount of readers, follows and favourites this story has already! I would really love to hear what you think though; drop me a review please? So still no Sherlock in this chapter, but I'm building up to his return real quick. Promise :) I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to BBC's Sherlock, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original stories.
...
"Fairy tales."
John looks up from his laptop. "What's that?"
I turn away from where we've stuck the crime scene photos to the wall and meet his questioning gaze. "Fairy tales. These women look like they've stepped out of fairy tales."
I beckon to John and he comes over to stand next to me. "Look at them. At first it just seems like the killer fixed them up nice, but look closer."
"I'm still not sure what you mean," John says, inspecting the photographs.
"The details, John!" I exclaim. "Look at the details!"
He glances at me with narrowed eyes. "You sound like Sherlock."
A small smirk quirks up my lips. "Thank you."
Rolling his eyes, John returns his attention to the photos. "I didn't mean it as a compliment," he mutters.
"Well, that's how I'm taking it," I reply with a laugh. "Now seriously, look."
"Yes, yes, I'm looking," John grumbles. I wait impatiently for several minutes as John squints at the photographs before I swat him on the arm.
"Hey!" he shouts, looking offended. "What the bloody hell was that for?"
"You were taking too long."
"You couldn't have just said so?" he grouches, rubbing his arm.
I roll my eyes. "Stop being an infant, I didn't hit you that hard."
He smiles slightly. "I'm still not sure how you figure they're fairy tale characters."
"The first one is Little Red Riding Hood," I say, pointing. "The red jumper with the hood drawn up, the basket left next to her, and," I pause, reaching for the notes Lestrade gave us, "they found canine hairs on her clothes."
"She could have had a pet dog," John says.
"Possibly, except that the hairs were only found on the jumper, not on the rest of her clothing, and they were just on the front. A few dog hairs, on only one article of clothing, in one specific place. No way they came from regular interaction with a dog. They were placed there by her killer."
John nods. "Alright, I'm with you. What about her?"
"The second victim is the princess from Princess and the Pea. She's wearing what looks like an expensive dress, and was found lying on top of three mattresses. Not quite as many as in the story, but enough that I'm sure that's what it's supposed to represent. I should tell Lestrade."
I pluck my mobile from the table and send a text.
Murders are modeled after fairy tales. Red Riding Hood, Princess and the Pea. -AD
With nothing else we can do for now, John and I sit down to catch up and are soon joined by Mrs Hudson. After about an hour my phone rings. The caller ID tells me it's Lestrade.
I answer the call. "Yes?"
"Adrianna, we've found another one."
I nod, grabbing my coat from the sofa. "Text me the address."
...
John and I follow a uniformed officer under the police tape and into a large ballroom, where we find Lestrade standing over the body along with Anderson and Donovan. I sigh deeply; dealing with those two is the last thing I want to do. I stride briskly to Lestrade's side and cross my arms over my chest.
"Get them out of here," I snap, jerking my head towards Donovan and Anderson.
Lestrade heaves a sigh. "Anna..."
"I won't work with them. Either they go, or I do."
"Still hung up on the freak?"
It takes all my willpower to keep from turning and punching Donovan. As it is, I glance over my shoulder and fix her with a piercing glare before turning back to Lestrade.
"Get her out of here before I rearrange her face," I growl.
Lestrade closes his eyes briefly, as if praying for patience, then turns his attention to Anderson and Donovan. "I'm sorry, you two, you need to go so she can have a look."
At once, both Donovan and Anderson start protesting loudly.
"You're kicking us out?"
" - can't believe you're turning back to the freaks - "
" - unfair, it's our job, not hers!"
"You'll regret it when she turns on you too, just like - "
"ENOUGH!"
Lestrade's shout stops their tirade. He points to the door.
"Both of you, clear off now!"
Giving me dirty looks, Anderson and Donovan exit the ballroom, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. Lestrade turns to me with a sigh.
"I wish you wouldn't put me in that position."
"I know. Sorry," I reply. "But they were difficult even before, and I just can't handle them now."
Lestrade places a hand on my shoulder. "I probably shouldn't have had them in here."
"Don't worry about it. Let's just get on with it, shall we?" I motion to John; we both put on gloves and kneel down to inspect the body.
"Looks like she was killed same way as the others," John says. "Toxicology will probably show a morphine overdose."
"No defensive wounds, just like the first two," I add. "They either knew their attacker or he's someone who doesn't seem like a threat. A stranger they'd trust. Then he incapacitates them before they have a chance to fight back."
Lestrade pipes up. "He must be taking them somewhere isolated, because no one's reported seeing anything suspicious."
John gently lifts the dead woman's head and looks at the back of her neck. "Look here. A needle mark on her neck as well as one on her arm. He's drugging them to knock them out, then a second time to kill them."
"Probably taking them to a second location to kill them," I say. "Has there been evidence of sexual assault?"
"No," Lestrade answers. "No evidence of assault of any kind. Aside from murder, of course."
There is a long pause while I continue to examine the scene. "She certainly wasn't killed here. So we have an abduction site, a kill site and a dump site. And a killer who managed to get in here undetected, with a body." I look at Lestrade. "Isn't there any security in this place?"
He flips through his notes. "The whole building has been closed for renovations for the past month. They're also updating the surveillance system, so everything's offline. The contractors discovered the body when they showed up for work this morning."
I go back to inspecting the body. "Cinderella," I mutter after a moment.
Lestrade looks up from his notes. "What?"
"Cinderella," I repeat. "Don't you see it? The ballroom, the gown, and she's only wearing one shoe. You didn't notice that?"
"We did notice the missing shoe, but couldn't it have just fallen off? He did transport the body from elsewhere," Lestrade says.
I shake my head. "No. Really look at her. Everything is meticulous, every detail. Her hair is perfectly styled, her dress unwrinkled, her nails clean and manicured. The only reason she'd be missing a shoe is because the killer wanted her to be missing a shoe."
"Because she's Cinderella."
"Exactly. We need to find that shoe."
Lestrade and John look at me. "You think it's here?" John asks.
"Of course it's here! He's evolving. The first two murders were fairly subtle in mimicking their stories, but this one is unmistakable. That shoe has to be here somewhere."
I glance around; it's obvious that the stray shoe isn't in this room, there's nowhere for it to go unnoticed. But I have a hunch where I'll find it. Turning on my heel I stride briskly from the ballroom back into the cavernous entryway of the building. Ignoring the dirty looks from Anderson and Donovan, I hurry over to the wide, sweeping staircase that leads to the upper floor and bound up it, two stairs at a time. At the top I stop with a grin.
"Up here!" I call down to Lestrade and John, who followed me into the entryway. "One no-longer-missing shoe."
I know I should wait for the police to photograph the shoe, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I reach out with a gloved hand to pick it up. I frown; it's strangely heavy. As John and Lestrade reach the top of the stairs I turn the shoe upside down and a small ceramic apple falls into my outstretched palm.
"What's that?"
I hand the tiny apple to Lestrade.
He raises an eyebrow. "What does an apple have to do with Cinderella?"
"Nothing at all," I answer. "It's a clue. He's leading us to his next murder." I pause, looking back at the shoe. "There's something else in here."
I poke a finger into the shoe and fish around for a moment, pulling out a folded piece of paper. Passing the shoe to John I unfold the paper and read it out loud:
"Deep into the woods I go,
My lips blood red, skin white as snow.
Find me there where I now dwell,
Before I say my last farewell."
Lestrade frowns. "What is this? Is he taunting us?"
I stare off into space, my mind racing. "He's playing a game," I reply slowly. "He knows we've connected all the murders, and now he's playing with us. It increases the satisfaction he gets from killing. Trying to outsmart us."
"So, he sees the next victim as Snow White," says John.
I nod, snapping from my trance and standing up. "We need to get to Bart's. See what else we can get from the items he left us. A woman's life could depend on it."
