Authoress Note: Welcome to Chapter 3 of Detective Buchanan. I want to thank those who have left reviews for this story. It truly does mean a lot to me that you guys are enjoying this story. I am trying my best to keep up with the updates and making sure that this story is good. I've tried my best to add new sections into each chapter to make them longer so hopefully I've succeeded with that. I can't help but wonder who you guys think that Iseabail should be with. I haven't quite decided on the pairing yet so it could be either way. Without further ado Chapter 3. ENJOY!

Chapter 3

Iseabail reached for her phone sleepily that was going off. She groaned as she got her phone. "Hello?" She said as she stretched out some. She wished she would have gotten more sleep, but having the phone going off made it much harder to sleep.

"There's been another murder." Greg explained to her over the phone.

"Another one? So quickly?" She slowly got up to her feet stretching out some more.

"I need you to come with me."

Iseabail blinked a few times. "Where?"

"Sherlock…"

"Of course. I'll meet you there." She told her partner.

"Thank you."

"Bye." She said softly as she hung up her phone letting out a soft breath. She knew that Sherlock wouldn't be too happy to see her twice in one evening. She knew that this was going to be one long night and she wasn't going to enjoy it too much.

SHSHSH

Sherlock turned around as Greg and Iseabail came up the stairs and into the living room. "Where?" He questioned as he looked at the two of them.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." Greg confirmed that there had indeed been another murder that had happened.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different."

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah." Sherlock said with a nod of his head.

"This one did. Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?"

"It's Anderson." Iseabail said as she crossed her arms looking at Sherlock. She knew that he wouldn't work well with Anderson because he was always somehow sticking his foot in his mouth when he said things. She didn't even understand how Anderson even got the job with the Yard when he did so many flub ups when it came to working. Perhaps they needed their quota of incompetent people working for the yard as well as those who were competent.

Sherlock grimaced as he thought about working with Anderson. "Anderson won't work with me."

"Well, he won't be your assistant." Greg pointed out looking at Sherlock.

"I need an assistant."

"Will you come?"

"Not in a police car. I'll be right behind."

"Thank you." He then looked around at John and Mrs. Hudson for a moment before he turned and hurried down the stairs.

"See you soon." Iseabail said as she quickly followed Greg down the stairs. "Well that was simpler than what I thought it would go." She knew that Sherlock was going because there was a note left this time by the one that had died so that was pointing into a new direction which made her blood pump through her veins. This was now becoming exciting even for her.

Greg looked over at Iseabail and led her outside of the flat building.

SHSHSH

Iseabail fixed the gear that she had to wear. She took a breath as she went over to where Sergeant Donovan was to talk to her but Sergeant Donovan moved to stop Sherlock and John causing her to turn her head to look at Sherlock and the man she saw twice already that day.

"Hello, freak." Sergeant Donovan said as she looked at Sherlock in distaste.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock said proudly.

"Why?"

"I was invited."

"Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look." Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?"

"Come on Sherlock." Iseabail said moving the tape some to allow him in.

"Always, Sally." He said as he went under the tape. He breathed in through his nose. "I even know you didn't make it home last night."

"I don't …" Sergeant Donovan looked at John. "Er, who's this?"

"Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson." He turned to John. "Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend."

"A colleague? How do you get a colleague?!" She turned to John. "What, did he follow you home?"

"Sergeant Donovan, stop it." Iseabail said, shaking her head. "We're wasting time because you have to be so sarcastic and rude."

"Would it be better if I just waited and …" John said, looking at Sherlock.

"No." Sherlock said as he lifted the tape for John.

John walked under the tape.

"Follow me." Iseabail said as she led Sherlock and John inside.

Sherlock looked all around the area and the ground as they approached the building.

A man dressed in a coverall came out of the house.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again."

Anderson looked at him with distaste. "It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

Sherlock took a deep breath through his nose. "Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?"

"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that."

"Your deodorant told me that."

"My deodorant?"

"It's for men."

"Well, of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!"

"So's Sergeant Donovan."

Anderson looked around in shock at Donovan.

Sherlock sniffed pointedly. "Ooh, and I think it just vaporised. May I go in?"

Anderson turned to Sherlock angrily. "Now look: whatever you're trying to imply …"

"I'm not implying anything."

Anderson headed past Donovan and to the front door.

Iseabail shook her head lightly.

"I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over."

Anderson turned back.

"And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

Anderson and Donovan stared at him in horror.

Sherlock smiled smugly before turning and following Iseabail inside of the building.

"Did you have to do that, Sherly?" She questioned as she led both Sherlock and John to the room where Greg was putting on a coverall.

Sherlock pointed to a pile of similar items. "You need to wear one of these." He told John.

Greg looked over at John and then Sherlock. "Who's this?"

Sherlock took off his gloves. "He's with me."

"But who is he?"

"I said he's with me."

Iseabail shook her head lightly. "His help Greg." She said softly, letting out a breath.

John took off his jacket and picked up his coverall. He looked over at Sherlock who had picked up a pair of latex gloves. "Aren't you gonna put one on?"

Sherlock just looked at him sternly.

"He's not going to do that. He never does." Iseabail said, shaking her head.

John looked over at the young woman. "He doesn't?"

"In all my years of knowing him he has his own way of doing things."

"So where are we?" Sherlock questioned.

Greg picked up a pair of latex gloves. "Upstairs." Greg said before leading the boys up the circular staircase with Iseabail right behind him.

Sherlock put his gloves on as he walked up the stairs.

"I can give you two minutes."

"May need longer."

"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." He said he led them into a room two stories above the ground floor.

The room was empty of furniture except for a rocking horse that was in the far corner. Energy portable lighting had been set up by the police. Scaffolding poles held up part of the ceiling near where a couple of large holes had been knocked through one of the walls.

A woman's body was laying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the room. She was wearing a bright pink overcoat and pink high-heeled shoes. Her hands were flat on the floor on either side of her head.

Sherlock walked a few steps into the room and then stopped, holding one hand out in front of himself as he focused on the corpse. Sherlock looked across to Greg. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Greg said, startled.

"You were thinking. It's annoying."

Iseabail shook her head lightly as Sherlock stepped slowly forward until he reached to the side of the corpse. Iseabail watched him carefully as he looked at the body. She knew that he didn't need too long with the body. A small smile came to her lips as she watched him work. She hoped when she had looked at the body that some of the things that he would be getting from his deductions would match up with hers and if it did then things would be interesting for this case.

Sherlock smiled slightly in satisfaction with everything that he was able to deduce.

"Got anything?" Greg questioned his brows raising, hoping that Sherlock was able to come up with something.

"Not much." Sherlock said, looking over before standing up and taking his gloves off. He then grabbed his mobile phone from his pocket and began to type on it.

Anderson leaned against the doorway casually. "She's German. 'Rache': it's German for 'revenge'. She could be trying to tell us something …"

Sherlock walked quickly towards the door and began to close the door. "Yes, thank you for your input." He said as he slammed the door shut. He turned and walked back into the room.

"So she's German?" Greg questioned.

"I don't think so." Iseabail said, shaking her head.

"Of course she's not. She's from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night …" Sherlock smiled smugly. "... before returning home to Cardiff." He pocketed his phone. "So far, so obvious."

"Sorry – obvious?" John questioned.

"What about the message, though?" Greg questioned his brows furrowed together.

"Doctor Watson, what do you think?" Sherlock questioned, ignoring Greg's questions.

"Of the message?"

"Of the body. You're a medical man."

"Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside." Greg said, protesting.

Iseabail shook her head.

"They won't work with me."

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here."

"Yes ... because you need me."

Greg stared at him for a moment, before lowering his eyes helplessly. "Yes, I do. God help me."

"Doctor Watson." Sherlock said, looking over at John.

"Hm?" John looked up from the body to Sherlock and then turned his head towards Greg, silently seeking permission.

"Oh, do as he says. Help yourself." Greg said as he turned and opened the door, going outside. "Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes."

Sherlock and John walked over to the body.

Sherlock squatted down on one side of it and John painfully lowered himself to one knee on the other side, leaning heavily on his cane to support himself.

"Well?"

"What am I doing here?"

"Helping me make a point."

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent."

"Yeah, well, this is more fun."

"Fun? There's a woman lying dead."

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper."

Iseabail watched Sherlock and John carefully with her arms crossed. She wondered exactly what John could do. She also wondered how John had gotten mixed up into what Sherlock was doing.

Greg came back into the room and stood just inside the doorway.

John dragged his other leg down into a kneeling position and then leaned forward to look more closely at the woman's body. He put his head close to hers and sniffed, then straightened a little before lifting her right hand looking at her skin. He kneels up and looks across to Sherlock. "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." Greg said, crossing his arms as he looked at Sherlock.

Sherlock got up to his feet while John struggled to get to his own. "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. Traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase."

"Suitcase?" Greg questioned, looking at his brows a bit furrowed.

John looked around the room but didn't see a suitcase anywhere in the room.

"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 …"

"He's not. You just didn't notice the splash marks on the back of her legs on her hosiery." Iseabail said, shaking her head.

"Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple." Sherlock said pointing at her left hand.

"That's brilliant." John said softly.

Sherlock looked at him.

"Sorry."

"Cardiff?" Greg questioned as he shifted some looking at Sherlock.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"It's not obvious to me." John said, shaking his head.

Sherlock paused looking at the two of them before looking at Iseabail who at least could keep up with what he was thinking due to their many years of former friendship. "Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." He turned back to the body. "Her coat: it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" He got his phone from his pocket and show John and the webpage he had been looking at earlier. "Cardiff."

"That's fantastic!" John said in awe.

Iseabail let out a soft laugh.

Sherlock turned to John. "D'you know you do that out loud?"

"Sorry. I'll shut up."

Sherlock breathed through his nose. "No, it's ... fine."

"Why d'you keep saying suitcase?" Greg questioned.

Sherlock spun around in a circle to look around the room. "Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is."

"She was writing 'Rachel'?"

"No, she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be. Question is: why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"How d'you know she had a suitcase?"

Sherlock pointed down to the body, where her tights had small black splotches on the lower part of her right leg that Iseabail had pointed out prior. "Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night." He squatted down by the woman's body and examined the back of her legs more closely. "Now, where is it? What have you done with it?"

"There wasn't a case." Greg pointed out to Sherlock.

Sherlock slowly raised his head and frowned at Lestrade. "Say that again."

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase."

Sherlock straightened up, getting to his feet and headed towards the door, calling out to all of the officers in the house as he hurried down the stairs. "Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

The three of them followed him and stopped at the landing.

"Sherlock, there was no case!" Greg called out.

Sherlock slowed down but still made his way down the stairs. "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, all of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings – serial killings." He held his hands in front of him in delight. "We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to."

"Why are you saying that?"

Sherlock stopped looking up at them. "Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Someone else was here, and they took her case. So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car."

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there." John pointed out.

Sherlock looked back up at them. "No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She color-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking …" He stopped talking and made a realization. "Oh." His face lit up in awe. "Oh!" He clapped his hands together in delight.

"Sherlock?" John called.

"What is it, what?" Greg questioned leaning over to look at Sherlock.

"Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake."

"We can't just wait!"

"Oh, we're done waiting!" Sherlock said as he hurried down the stairs. "Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" He reached the bottom of the stairs and disappeared from view.

"Of course, yeah – but what mistake?!"

Sherlock came back into view and ran up a couple of stairs so he could be seen before he stopped. "PINK!" He said before hurrying off again.

Greg stood there baffled, and turned to go back into the room while Anderson and his team, who had been waiting on the next landing down, hurried up the stairs following him and Iseabail into the room.

"Let's get on with it." Anderson said as he went to get to work.

Iseabail looked over at Greg. "He gave us the information we needed. He's done his job, now we need to do ours."

Greg looked over at her. "You know Sherlock better than anyone."

Iseabail let out a soft scoff crossing her arms. "More than I care to admit."

Greg nodded his head. "Follow him."

Iseabail looked over at Greg, her amber eyes widening. "What?"

"I want you to follow him."

Iseabail let out a huff. "You want me to spy on him. That's not what a friend does to another."

"We need to find out if he's telling the truth."

Iseabail let out a breath. "Fine." She said as she turned on her heels walking out of the room and towards the stairs. She hated the fact that Greg wanted her to spy on Sherlock. But she knew that she wouldn't hear the end of it if she didn't do it.

XXXXXXXXXX

This is the end of Chapter 3. I hope that you enjoyed it. I tried my best to fit in with this episode. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I hope that you guys enjoy Iseabail as much as I enjoy writing to her. There will be more Iseabail in the future. Reviews keep me going. Until next time.