"Jensen what do you think?" Sherlock asks me after he has spent a few minutes examining the body on the table in front of me.
"About the body or the inspector?" I ask back and he stares at me for a moment,
"The body of course what would possible interest you about the Inspector?" He says looking nonplussed.
"I see now where you and I differ then," I shrug as I step forward and examine the body myself before glancing up at the two men who are staring at me still.
"I find the living infinitely more interesting than the dead," I offer before moving on, "Whoever did this is clever, they have been able to keep the victim alive for I would say, six days, whilst torturing them and yet has finished them off quickly, execution style. I would say you're looking for a trained assassin Inspector one who is also well versed in information extraction and by the looks of these marks on the ankles and the shoulders… help me turn him… yes you're looking for someone with a military background in the Ukraine," I finish and they both look stunned, although I get the feeling that Sherlock is stunned for a different reason entirely as I know full well he would have deduced all of that in seconds.
"What do you mean the living are more interesting than the dead?" he asks eventually,
"Just what I said they are,"
"But if you paid less attention to the trivial matters in living, boring peoples minds you may have picked up on the fingers, he has been stripped of his identity on purpose, whoever did this did not want us finding out who it is," he exclaims somewhat triumphantly.
"Ah yes but if you paid more attention to the living you may have picked up on the fact that his clothing style is clearly new and uncomfortable to him, his hair despite being messed from days of being held hostage and tortured still holds traces of gel and his underwear is new, this man was trying to impress someone. He was out on a date the night he went missing and either was kidnapped on the way to or from said date or more likely, as a date would probably have reported something, he was lured by his date so either our killer is a woman or he has a partner," I say and smirk as the Inspector laughs out loud.
"Oh I like her," he chuckles slapping Sherlock on the back and striding out to make some calls leaving us alone.
"Right well," Sherlock says before turning and following Lestrade out of the door leaving me to hurry after him.
By the time I reach the street Sherlock is long gone and I feel a smirk spread across my face slightly at the same time as a tiny bit of guilt shoots through me as I realise I have just shown him up in front of his friend… colleague… acquaintance? I get the impression that Sherlock is not the kind of man to surround himself in friends although I'm hardly one to talk am I? I have no-one maybe that is another area in which we differ from one another. He does have people, he has spoken about them and that is more than me. Slowly I make my way back to Baker Street and am no nearer working him out by the time I get home and by the sound of the violin drifting down the stairway as I enter the building he is also deep in thought about something.
"So when will the next one be?" he asks as soon as I walk through the door and after a seconds pause I work out what he is asking me.
"I don't know, it depends in the cooling off period and the motive, it could be a one off couldn't it?"
"You know as well as I do that someone who kills with that precision will kill again and keep killing until they are caught," he says dropping his arm and letting the violin hang in one hand as he points the bow towards me. "Your room is up the stairs there," he adds and nodding I leave him and quickly ascend to my room to get my thoughts together.
Long into he night I hear him moving around the rooms downstairs and I am beginning to think he doesn't sleep either when it eventually goes silent. I wait for an hour or so, listening for any movement and when I don't I turn over in my bed and attempt to sleep myself. It must be three in the morning when I give up and sighing I eventually give up trying and pulling on my clothes, shoes and coat decide to go out for a walk instead.
"Where are you going?" he asks as I creep downstairs very nearly making me jump and let out a shriek of fright. Luckily for me though very few things in my life these days frightens me and so I just turn to the figure sitting in the dark.
"Going for a walk to clear my head," I answer quietly not sure why I am whispering but the silence of the night always made me feel like I should be as quiet as possible so as not to wake the world.
"So you don't sleep on a case either?" he asks, although it is more of a statement so assured is he in his ability to read anyone he meets.
"I am not so sure there is a case, the person who committed that murder is a professional we both know that, he may well… probably does commit murder for hire he may well have moved on by now," I reply and he shakes his head.
"I don't think you should be going out alone," he says now changing tact slightly and I grin at him a little.
"I think I can handle myself Mr Holmes," I smirk and he raises an eyebrow at me before nodding slightly as if to say don't say I didn't warn you and turns away from me again as I exit silently through the door and out onto the street.
An hour later and I pull my coat more tightly around me as I wander aimlessly through the streets not paying any attention to where I am going when I hear a shout and looking up feel my heart plummet a little. The alleyway I have found myself in is small and closed off from the streets and the only building around look to be either business places or completely derelict. The thing that worried me though were the eight men that were quickly surrounding me.
"Look what we have here," one of them growls and I gulp inwardly before steeling myself and my resolve I was trained for this. Granted I had never taken on so many opponents alone before but I am sure… almost sure I can take them.
"You're making a mistake guys, I'm not the girl you want to be picking on," I warn but they just laugh stepping ever closer, so close that a second later I can feel the breath of one of them on the back of my neck and I have to fight the urge to shiver.
"Not sure you're in any position to be the one dishing out warnings luv," another snarls and instead of responding I glance around, my brain working frantically to come up with a plan. Unfortunately before I can come up with one with a chance of escape they attack. Punch to my gut winds me instantly and I lash out knowing that I needed to try and stay upright if I wanted to stay alive and hope to gain the upper hand. There are shouts and grunts as my hits and kicks hit their marks and the men quickly realise that they have bitten off more than they can chew with me and several of them seem to abandon their plan and run off. The would be leader though, he was another story, by this time I was feeling distinctly woozy which is probably due to the number of blows I have taken to my face and head and the loss of blood. I could already see it pooling on the floor around me and the man in front of seemed to getting angrier,
"Ready to give up yet luv?" He spits at me after I attempt another punch which is deflected,
"Never," I wheeze realising as I do so that I have at least two cracked ribs, he launches at me again and I do my best I know that I manage to break his jaw as I hear his muffled cry and feel the bone breaking as my punch connects but thats the last thing I do hear or feel as my head collides with the wall and blackness quickly descends over me.
The fog of darkness is slow to lift its veil and even after I have opened my eyes dark spots dance across my vision for a long time. The cold feels as though it has seeped into my bones and pain is radiating through me so sharply I can barely breathe every movement dragging a harsh gasp of agony from me. The sky is still dark so I know I can only have been unconscious for an hour or so at maximum and so with one last moment to get myself together I drag myself to my feet unable to stop the whimper that escapes me as I lean against the wall my breathing harsh and laboured even to my own ears. I knew I had to get back to Baker street and quickly but I also felt the humiliation of knowing he had been right, the anger at being beaten and it made tears sting in my eyes which just made me more angry so blinking them away I move.
It takes me almost an hour to stumble slowly back to my new home and by the time I reach the door I can barely breath at all for the pain that pulsed through me and pushing through the door it is all I can do to fall to my knees swaying on the spot for a second those black spots dancing across my vision again as I look up into the startled eyes of Sherlock Holmes, I think that I spend perhaps a second or two thinking about the fact that I should save that image away as I am not sure it is too often that he looks startled before unconsciousness washes over me once more.