A Study in Reason

Part Two

Speed was paramount. She ran, faster than she thought possible, not daring to look back. Not daring to let her mind focus on the sound of pounding feet behind her, the laboured breathing of her pursuer. Taking a sharp left, she leapt a low brick fence and ran behind the large suburban house it belonged to. She didn't get far; a tall wooden fence prevented her from getting into the back garden. Panicking, she whirled around and screamed.

The sirens heralding the arrival of the Met woke most of the quiet neighbourhood. Heads poked out of windows and doors, their faces ghostly pale against the street lamps outside. The reason for the police's arrival was lying slumped and glassy eyed against a tall wooden gate, her blonde hair covered most of her face and the tips were stained red with blood. Nobody knew her name - she wasn't from around here, the neighbours said.
The man who lived in the house where the young girl had died was still wearing his dressing gown and was holding his wife who was staring into space, the shock of the past thirty minutes had proved too much for her. The DI who was interviewing him ran a hand through his silver hair and walked back to his Sergeant.
"Get me to Baker Street."

The sirens didn't wake Sherlock, he was sitting in his favourite chair, eyes closed, palms pressed together as though in prayer. He didn't get up when he heard the knock on the door of 221B, nor when the DI entered his living room.
"Do you ever sleep?" Lestrade asked, eyes taking in Sherlock's appearance: perfectly ironed purple shirt and black pants. He clearly hadn't been to bed tonight.
"I could ask you the same question," Sherlock replied, opening his eyes and leaping up with a grace he had long perfected. "What have you got for me this time?" he asked, bringing his hands together and looking expectantly at the older man.
"Homocide. One victim, seventeen year old female. Murdered an hour ago," the DI ran another hand through his hair. At that moment, a door opened and John appeared, looking disheveled and still in the clutches of sleep. Lestrade eyed the newcomer with surprise.
"John? What are you doing here?" John frowned.
"I live here," he said.
"Do you? But... You got married." John scowled.
"Don't... Just don't..." Sherlock mumbled to Lestrade. The two men shared a knowing look. To John, Sherlock said, "John, get dressed! We have a case!" John groaned but perked up a little.

Lestrade gave Sherlock the address, and agreed to meet him at he crime scene. On the way, Sherlock told the driver to make a detour.