A Hint Of Femlock - A Study In Pink

The Cat And The Mouse

What stood in front of Joan Watson was a taped off section of a dark road, five police cars, several officers and a couple of forensic specialists in plastic body suits. What Sherlock Holmes saw was far more immense. Other than the obvious crime scene, there was firstly the people: two cheaters, eight parents, three alcoholics, two depression sufferers and an abusive husband.  Then there was the skid marks by a tree symbolising a car accident, estimated at about a two weeks ago; theparents of the victim don’t seem to care as much as people assume. Of course, all these things and everything else she couldn’t bother to notice would only matter of Sherlock wasn’t so distracted by the murder itself.

Behind the tape stood an officer, who, at the sight of the Sherlock, let out a long sigh.

“Hello, freak.” The woman announced as Sherlock approached the tape. “What do you want?”

The officer had black curly hair that blended in with the night and dark glossy skin, but not even the prettiest of faces could disguise  the look of disgust she portrayed.

“I’m here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Sherlock said plainly.

“Why?”

“I was invited.”

“Why?”

“I think he wants me to look around.” Joan was stunned at the behaviour shown toward Sherlock and thought about how she had treated her when they first met. How fast Sherlock switched from straight forward and plain to sarcastic made Dr. Watson wonder how many people have treated her in this extremity. In her thoughts though, she didn’t notice the officer furrowing her brows and looking at her.

“Err, who’s this?”

“Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson…Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old Friend.” Sherlock screwed up her face at the remark and pulled up the tape to get past, holding it up for Joan.

“She can’t come through.” Hissed Donovan.

“She’s with me.” Sherlock Holmes replied, and the two advanced through.

“Freak’s here. Bringing her in.” Joan heard Donovan say into a walkie talkie behind them.

At the entrance of the house in which the murder took place, a man wearing a forensics body suit paused to greet them.

“This is a crime scene. I do not want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?” The man said threateningly.

“Quite clear, Anderson.” Sherlock smiled, suddenly sniffing strangely. “Your wife away long?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you worked that out! Someone told you.” Joan stayed silent, guilt and déjà vu burning her up.

“Your deodorant told me.”

“My deodorant?”

“Yes, it’s for men.”

“What are you trying to say, Holmes? Of course it’s for men. I’m a man and I’m wearing it!”

“And so’s Sergeant Donovan.” Anderson’s eyes widen immediately as Sherlock walks straight past him. “Ooh, and I think it just vaporised”

“Now, Sherlock, whatever you’re trying to...” But neither of them hear the end of the sentence because Sherlock disappears into the house, Joan in pursuit, failing to hide a smile.

[Okay guys, I know this part was very similar to the BBC version but there's an idea I've got planned for the next part that really seperates it from the BBC adaptation]

~ WithoutTime