You Are My Mystery {Sherlock Holmes}

Chapter 5*

The strikingly tall man and John walk over to the body that's laying on the ground. The tall man squats down on one side of it and John painfully lowers himself to one knee on the other side, leaning heavily on his cane to support himself. Clearly, his knee is bothersome suggesting he should get surgery. 

"Well?" The tall man asks.

"What am I doing here?" John questions softly, confused by the tall man's antics.

"Helping me make a point," the tall man replies bluntly. 

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent," John replies, slightly annoyed with the tall man. 

Roommates?

Lovers- No. Not lovers.

"Yeah, well, this is more fun," the tall man mutters under his breath. I quizzically stare at him, wondering what's going on in his head that makes him think the same way as I do.

"Fun? There's a woman lying dead," John announces quite loudly. Then I start walking towards the door, feeling awkward from John's impulse to start an argument. I can't blame him, however, as average people may find these things disturbing. 

"Well, I'm going to leave-" I start but get cut off.

"No, stay. We have some talking to do," the tall man demands and I am taken back by his sudden tone. His abruptness was quite unnecessary and slightly off-putting, making me slightly uneasy. 

"Nobody tells me what to do," I snap. He slowly turns his head my way, squinting his eyes. "But okay. I'll stay," I grudgingly oblige. 

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper." The tall man wishes that John would have done a better job at analyzing the body. Lestrade comes back into the room and stands just inside the doorway. John drags his other leg down into a kneeling position and then leans forward to look more closely at the woman's body. He puts his head close to hers and sniffs, then straightens a little before lifting her right hand and looking at the skin. He kneels up and looks across to the tall man."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," John concludes.

 "You know what it was. You've read the papers," the tall mans informs.

"What, she's one of the suicides? The fourth ...?" John wonders aloud.

"Sherlock – two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got," Lestrade pipes up in an attempt to rush us.

Sherlock? The tall man's name is Sherlock? Interesting name.

Sherlock briskly stands up, while John struggles to get to his feet. "Victim is in her late thirties," Sherlock starts.

"Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink," I spit out, cutting Sherlock off. He gives me a side-eye before continuing to speak once more. 

"Traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase," Sherlock finishes for me.

"Suitcase?" Lestrade inquires. John looks around the room but can't see a suitcase anywhere.

 "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," I continue.

"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up..." Lestrade says looking towards me and Sherlock. I roll my eyes knowing there would be no reason to make such a thing up.