Sorry, sorry it's been a long time since my last update. I just hit a major writer's block and couldn't fond the right way to go on with the story (which is made since I already know where I want to take it but it was difficult to see what the two next chapters would be about). Anyway, here is the next chapter. Hope you'll like it.

When Sherlock arrived at the morgue, Molly was nowhere to be seen. He had gone looking at the lab and then at the morgue but she wasn't there. He was surprised and not happy. Yes, the body of the young prostitute wasn't there yet. However, he would have liked the opportunity to check on a few experiments and maybe have her make him coffee - hers was much better than the one of the canteen. So, here he was with John, pacing in front of the changing room, waiting for the pathologist. John, used to Sherlock's theatrics in the middle of a case wasn't put off and used the time to answer Mary's text about the choice of baby phones and review some of his notes about the case. A few minutes later, they heard some steps making their way to them, accompanied by two voices discussing things that elicited some laughter at one time or another.

Sherlock turned and saw Molly coming to the lab with her lover in toe. They were talking to one another and sharing smiles as they arrived in front of them. Sherlock, already irritated, felt his mood darken even more. Molly, spotting him, hurried her pace:

"Sherlock, John! You're already here? The body isn't there yet." She started, a little nervous. Then she quickly composed herself, remembering she was in presence of friends "Oh and hello." She finished brightly.

"The body should arrive in less than 10 minutes, so maybe we should cut to the chase and go straight to the morgue." Replied Sherlock

"Just a minute, I'm leaving my bag and grabbing my coat and we can go. Sorry if I'm late, we were with Nick out on lunch." Said Molly brightly.

John seeing the look in Sherlock's eyes and knowing that he wasn't a man that allowed for small talk during a case – which meant that a scathing remark would be uttered soon, turned to Molly and her doctor and interrupted:

"Hi, Dr Case. Glad meeting you again. So, you two had lunch? Did you go to the French café two streets down?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but seemed focused on the progress Molly was making in getting ready to go to the morgue. He did shoot one or two irritated looks at his friend but didn't comment otherwise.

"Yes, we did. It was very good. Thanks again to your wife for recommending it. It was the perfect place to get Molly for lunch. I can't let her forget about her lunch break and survive on crisps, can I?" replied the diagnostician good-humorously, his broad smile on the face, seemingly not paying attention to the detective on his side.

Nonetheless, at the mention of crisps, Sherlock jerked a little. He turned quickly to glance at the G.P. and make sense of the last sentence, but the man just smiled, even if for just a second, it seemed a little colder. However, except for that fleeting instant, nothing in his demeanour betrayed any ill-humour. Sherlock wasn't convinced that the remark had been stated quite innocently but there was a case to solve and he didn't have time to think on it.

John and Molly said goodbye to Nick and followed Sherlock has he made his way to the morgue. Just as they arrived, two paramedics came with the body bag and exposed the corpse on the slab. A few minutes later, Lestrade made his own entrance.

Molly immediately went into medical examiner mode. She was entirely focused on what she was doing, following the protocol that had been etched on her mind since the beginning of her post-mortems. She even clapped quickly Sherlock's hand away when he made to try and touch a part of the body. This was her domain and she ruled over it. Of course, she would let him do what he needed afterwards, but the first half-hour was hers – and then, the three to four hours after, if she had to be truthful. She would compile every little nugget of information in her head, following the same routine that would allow her instinct to find the omitted clue. She was good at it. She knew it. Even Sherlock knew it.

"Female – 18 to 25 – natural blonde – 5'3. Bruises on arms, legs, thighs. I'll check the back later, but probably there too. Bruises caused sometime before death, not the same age though and they were mending. No defensive wounds - no sign of blunt force trauma, no strangulation marks except for old traces. OK, so now back to the main piece. Opened torso, incision in Y, cracking of the ribs. Major blood loss. Possible cause of death. Heart removed - and burned to ashes? I'll test it later to see if I can find what might have been the accelerant. No other organ missing. Apparent skill for the procedure but nowhere close to medical or professional. Some signs of hesitation in the cuts and inconsistent force when using the blade – a scalpel perhaps or very sharp razor…" observed Molly as the three men around her kept silent and let her work.

Once she finished her first appraisal of the body, she turned to the three men that waited for her.

"OK, that was my first observations of the body. Not much, I know, but when I go into the proper autopsy, I'll know more. Any questions until then?" she asked, completely confident in her skills.

"See, I told you that she died when they cut her open." Asserted Sherlock. "Molly, please send me the tox report as soon as you can. Want to know what kept her passive during her execution. Might be key." Demanded then Sherlock.

Molly rolled her eyes. As if she needed that fact pointed to her. What a show-off. But she refrained to say anything. Instead she asked:

"Anything else you want to share?"

"Not yet, I'd rather have you keep your mind open. But, if I could get a sample of the ashes, I'd like that." Said Sherlock, his eyes distant as when he was already compiling facts in his mind palace.

"No problem. I'll get you some."

At this, Sherlock, John and Lestrade started toward the door of the morgue, leaving the pathologist to her autopsy. Sherlock remained silent, as was John. Greg, a little put out at the lack of information, felt necessary to remark:

"Sherlock, I don't have you on my investigations for fun, you know? So, if you could have anything that could start jump the investigation, that'll be the moment."

Sherlock stopped, crunched his eyes as in effort and after a few seconds started:

"Well, you already have everything that Molly told, if you took time to work it. You're really getting lazy with time. Anyway… We can assume that the killer has a firm grip on his control. Everything has been carefully planned, from the victim – a junkie prostitute, easy prey – to the disposal site, everything was bleached and cleaned to erase any sign of the murderer presence. He spent some time rehearsing this. There might be previous attempts…. You should look into that."

Lestrade nodded at that, all the time making some notes on his pad and thanked Sherlock before leaving. John, however, saw there was something that bothered Sherlock and waited for him to tell more. Normally, Sherlock despised serial killers. The cases were lurid, yes but no real mystery nor cleverness in the detective's opinion.

"Come on, John, we have to look for the primary location."

"What? But, don't you want to wait for feedback on the first attempts?"

"Oh, no. That was to distract Lestrade. Don't want to have him in my legs as I take it in the first time."

"What do you mean?"

"The man is obviously a beginner. Remember what Molly said. Hesitation marks. And he chose a high risk victim. It was his first." Simply stated Sherlock.

"But you said that he prepared and planned everything. Doesn't it indicate some experience?"

"Yes, I know. That's the conundrum. Ahhh, this case is good. At first, I thought it would be a 4 or 5, but it is a 7 maybe an 8." With those words, Sherlock's face relaxed and his eyes started gleaming. "John…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, the game is on." Cut the blogger but he couldn't hide the little smile at the corner of his mouth.