The Crimson Queen (A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 3 The Dead Woman

Evanna's POV

There she was. Just, lying there. She had never looked so peaceful in all the time I had spent with her. I kept telling myself that she was in a better place, a place where she didn't need to hide anymore, but that was only to try and choke back the tears that were welling up inside of me.

Sherlock suddenly sniffed loudly, interrupting my thoughts. "That smell," he said "Flowers. Roses I'd say. Where is it coming fr-". He stopped, clocking a vase of red roses on the windowsill. "Relatively fresh. Tell me, where are they from?" he asked me.

"I don't-" I started, my voice shaky. I cleared my throat and started again. "I don't know, I've never seen them before today. But they were definitely here this morning."

My eyes flickered around the room, taking in every detail, every viewpoint, every entrance, trying to spot any differences from the norm- something Sherlock admittedly could never do. Everything seemed to be in order and I told him so.

"Sherlock you forgot your magnifying gl-" John walked in and then stopped. "Is that blood?"

We looked at my mother's corpse and at the red writing that covered most of her body.

"John as a doctor, and a good one at that, I would have expected you to know that dried blood does not look like that" said Sherlock, kneeling down to examine her body.

Sherlock's POV

When Evanna had first told me my sister had been murdered I imagined a messy mutilated body- one that would render the murder weapon obvious. But this, this was far from it. The only physical difference she had from a person who had died of natural causes was red cryptic-like writing inscribed on the majority of her body. I wiped her ice cold arm with my gloved fingertips and the writing faded slightly.

Not a tattoo, I would expect that anyway. Possibly ink. More probably plant dye.

"This isn't-"

"No this is new" replied Evanna immediately.

John crouched down next to me. "The only obvious incision I can see is this one" he said, pointing to a paper-thin cut on her neck, near her vein. The skin looked slightly ragged on the site but otherwise there was no real damage. "Well it wan't blood loss that's for sure" he muttered.

"Evanna does this look like a needle or a knife to you?" I asked.

I heard no reply. I whipped around and saw her standing by the window with a blank expression, staring at her mother.

"Evanna?" I repeated, slightly louder this time.

Suddenly her eyes snapped back into focus and she shook her head.

"No it's different," she said, her voice surprisingly confident. "No grievous bodily harm, no mutilations, only the red ink-like substance on her skin. Actually not ink, plant dye. You could argue that the jugular incision could have been from a knife but you'd be very wrong, its not nearly deep enough and the cut is too clean. I'd be tempted to say a needle but who inserts a needle parallel to the skin? I'd definitely rule out drug abuse, I know my mother well enough she wouldn't go near the stuff with a barge pole no way and to be honest where in this god-forsaken place would you find drugs you tell me that? Judging by her lack of serious wounds I'd say poison transmitted into her system through the neck incision. How? I'm afraid I don't know yet but I'd suggest a post-mortem to confirm the nature of the poison and we should definitely study the possible coded mesage she was trying to leave us."

We stared at one another for a few seconds.

"How?!" exclaimed John, breaking our gaze.

"Us Holmes' have a way of seeing things that average minds like yours can't John," I replied. "And that was a perfectly sound deduction."

I stood up, stretching my legs, smiling at Evanna, my heart proud.

"You heard her John" I said.

"What?" he gaped.

"Its time to give Molly a little visit," I bounded out of the room and turned to face Evanna. "You'll like her."