Sherlock arrived expecting a fairly simple case. In a way, he was disappointed. Though it seemed pretty strait forward at first, little did he know that this would be the case to change his life forever. He stood in the kitchen as Lestrade filled him in on the details. Male, late-stixties, lived alone, the woman who came in to clean had found him that morning and the police came soon after. The body was in the sitting room, adjacent to the kitchen. Sherlock took it all in at a glance. He had been hung, supposedly by his own doing, from the ceiling fan with a noose made from a bed sheet. There was a note on the coffee table. Sherlock moved about the room ignoring everyone. All the officers and forensic specialists watched him in silent wonder and even a few with distaste. When he finished, he approached Lestrade.
"And this is exactly as you found it?" He asked.
"We haven't touched a thing except to dust for prints."
"Hmm, well, you were right about one thing. Not a suicide."
"So, murder?"
"Yes, that's what I mean by 'not suicide.'"
"How can you be sure?"
Sherlock smiled at this question. It was always asked and he always loved giving the answer.
"First, this man has apparently hung himself in his living room. That in itself is unusual. Why the living room? It's simple, really, the perpetrator killed the victim here and didn't want to drag the body to another location. Say, the bedroom, for example."
"But, there's no sign of a struggle. Or anything to suggest someone forced their way in." Lestrade pointed out.
"Ah, yes, our killer was very carful about that. They didn't break in, which suggests they were either let in by the victim himself or had a key. As for the struggle, I can't imagine this old man putting up much of a fight. Even so, if you look closely, you can see some evidence."
Sherlock moved swiftly across the room. Crouching down, he pointed at the rug. It was an old grey thing. The pattern on it was so faded one could hardly tell what it used to be.
"Here. If you look closely, you'll notice these wrinkles in the rug. These were caused by someone bumping into this chair here."
He stood and patted the back of said old-fashioned seat. The chair was positioned on the rug so if moved it would indeed cause it to wrinkle. Lestrade was still far from convinced, so Sherlock continued.
"On the wooden floor here, see, there are scuff marks. Now, this floor would not easily be marked so, unless sufficient pressure was put upon it. So, during the struggle, the victim attempted to use their weight to lean back against the attacker and get away. Obviously that didn't work."
Sherlock began to walk backwards, looking at the ground the whole while.
"If you follow the pattern of the marks, you begin to see the general direction of the struggle."
Bumping into a small, decorative table by the wall, Sherlock paused. He picked up a fat, clay pot that sat there, probably hand made, and examined it.
"See this large crack here, running through it. I would say they hit the stand here, knocking this pot onto the floor. It wasn't enough to break it, but plenty enough do this damage. After everything was over, the killer replaced it."
"Or, the man just isn't very good at pottery." Lestrade interjected.
Sherlock put the pot back, ignoring him.
"Check the body for more indications of a struggle. Also, be sure to examine the area around the victim's neck. I doubt the killer used that sheet to strangle him."
He moved as if to leave, but Lestrade stopped him. The Detective Inspector pulled him aside to have a private word.
(John POV)
When Sherlock arrived, John couldn't believe it. It was him, though. His old friend, Sherlock Holmes. That much was obvious to John the moment he caught a glimpse of him. It had been a long time, but John would recognize that face and voice anywhere, anytime. Then, he began sweeping around as though he owned the place, making observations and showing up the police officers who stood by at a respectful, yet cold, distance. John was in awe of his apparent abilities. The boy had always been talented, but that was over twenty years ago. Now, he was brilliant. At least, in John's eyes, he sure seemed that way.
The others present on the scene, however, would hardly have expressed this sentiment.
To John's surprise, they seemed less than impressed. Or, if they were, they didn't show it. Indeed, the one bean (Lestrade, was his name?) seemed more inclined to doubt him. When Sherlock was finished, the Lestrade fellow brought him into the kitchen, to talk, Watson supposed.
After waving to the other people to continue working, the detective inspector began to speak. John heard every word as they were now uncomfortably close to his hiding place.
"Sherlock, you are right about this, yes?"
"When have you ever known me to be wrong, Detective?" The way he said detective rang as an insult to John's ears. He wondered at the apparent dislike Sherlock had for the man.
Lestrade sighed in frustration. "It just seems a bit… Like a bit of a stretch. Even for you."
"Don't worry about it. Just let me know when you've confirmed foul play and have a suspect." His voice was so cold. John shuddered, wondering what might have happened to make him sound like that.
A sudden wave of guilt crashed over John. Regret threatened to drown him. What if he had made the wrong decision? What if it would have been better if he'd stayed? No. He had put family first and there was nothing wrong with that. Whatever happened to Sherlock happened. And probably happened a long time ago. It wasn't John's fault. He had been through his own fare share of hardships and had ended up alone.
Yet still, he felt guilty.
"You mean you don't already have a suspect?" John snapped back to reality at Lestrade's half-amused comment.
"I never said that, detective." With a smirk and a nod, he was gone.
John caught Lestrade rolling his eyes before the place was filled with activity again. A few hours later and people began to empty out. All pictures taken, all evidence bagged, the body taken away to be examined, there was no reason to stay. Only one officer remained outside to keep curious pedestrians out. Once again, John was completely alone.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Relaxing for a moment in the darkness of the tea box. Finally, after checking one more time that the coast was clear, he climbed out. It was strange being out in the open again. He stretched out his sore muscles and took in his surroundings. Everything was just like it was. It was almost like no one had been there at all. It had all been so surreal, John felt as though a hundred years had passed him in the blink of an eye. He felt old and world-weary.
John realized he probably shouldn't be standing out in the open and began to make his way back home. His mind was blank and refused to work properly. He wondered briefly if the shock had given him brain damage. Then, because he wasn't paying attention, John slipped on a puddle of water. He didn't fall, but it took a moment of flailing to regain his balance. The rush of adrenaline seemed to jump start his mind and he realized that he was completely parched. Eyeing the faucet, he wondered if he could make a quick refill.
Making his way carefully along the side of the sink, John reached the handle. A quick twist and small stream of water trickled out of the faucet. Now was the hard part. There was a thin ledge that divided the sink into two halves. John would have to walk down this in order to get to the water. It was tricky business trying to keep his balance on the slick divider. But John had done it plenty of times and hadn't fallen in yet. With that in mind, he made his way across.
When he came to the water, John took his fill. Cupping his hands under the stream, he drank deeply. He splashed the cool water over his face, letting it soothe his troubled mind. John pulled out his canteen next and began to fill it.
Then the sense hit him like a kick in the gut.
Someone was about to see him.
AN: man, this one took so long! But, I'm back now and I hope you've enjoyed this latest installment! (I know it was an absolute /pain/ to write) XD. And yes, I realize that I am evil. plz forgive me for this cliffhanger! I'm going to try to get the next part up this weekend to make it up to you all. As always, thanks for reading and have an awesome day!