Thank you A-D-E-E-E-R for the lovely review!
"I can give you two minutes." Lestrade tells us as he leads us into the room with the body is.
"May need longer." I scoff.
"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her."
And then we are in the room, it's pretty empty, apart from the dead woman dressed head to toe in pink face down on the ground. I've barley seen her when I have the thought, the same one I have when I see all of them, god I wish I was you.
Dad and I step forward to inspect the body. The first thing I notice is that the word " Rache" has been carved into the ground, scratched in by her fingernails.
She's left handed.
Has recently been in the rain.
Unhappily married.
"Got anything?"
"Not much."
"She's German. 'Rache': it's German for 'revenge'. She could be trying to tell us something …"
"God your an idiot Anderson" dad seems to think the same thing since he slams the door in Andersons face.
"So she's German?"
"Of course she's not. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night ...before returning home to"
"Cardiff." I finish his sentience for him.
"So far, so obvious."
"Sorry – obvious?" Oh John not you to.
"What about the message, though?"
"Doctor Watson, what do you think?"
"Of the message?"
Of the body. You're a medical man."
"Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside."
"They won't work with me."
"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here and I don't even want to mention how many health and safety rules I'm breaking by letting Alice in here!"
"Yes ... because you need me."
"God help me." Lastrade says before leaving.
"Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes!"
"Doctor Watson."
"Hm?"
John leans down to inspect the body for himself. He's barley done anything before Lestrade comes back in.
"Well?"
"Yeah ... Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs."
"You know what it was. You've read the papers."
"What, she's one of the suicides? The fourth ...?"
" Sherlock – two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got."
"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase."
Dam I didn't even think about the suitcase.
"Suitcase?"
"Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married."
"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up ..." Dad explains the rest to Lastrade and John as I look around the room.
"Wait dad." I say, but he's monologuing and there's no distracting him now.
"Now, where is it? What have you done with it?"
"Dad there is no case, there never was, not once she got here."
"Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?" Dad calls to the police officers.
"Sherlock, there was no case!"
"But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them."
"Right, yeah, thanks, And ...?"
"It's murder, isn't it? all of them." I say looking at dad for approval
"I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings – serial killings."
"We need to find that case." I say and I start to walk briskly, now this is my idea of fun.