A Study in Reason

Sunday, November 9th, 2014

I was woken up at four in the morning by an almighty banging. Realising it was my door, I got up and opened it, ready to give whoever it was an earful they would remember for a lifetime. Instead, I found Sherlock Holmes and John Watson waiting for me.

"Guys, it's four am. Please, can this wait till morning?" I groaned.

"It is morning. And now that you're awake, your not going to go back to sleep anyway, it's always been a problem. Lestrade needs our help." I perked up a little at Sherlock's words but was still thinking longingly of my warm bed.

"I thought you only worked with John," I questioned.

"I do," said Sherlock, not getting where I was going with this.

"So why do you want me to come along?"

"Because you're not a goldfish," he replied.

"A what?"
Sherlock shrugged. "You're interesting. I can't read you as well as other people," he continued.

"And look how well that turned out last time," John mumbled.

"What happened last time?" I asked, my curiosity winning over my futile desire for sleep.

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock said dismissively. "Are you coming?" I didn't really need to think about it.

"What took you so long?" Lestrade called when we arrived on the scene.

"Took a detour!" John replied.

"Where's the body?" Sherlock asked, straight to the point.

"Over here," Lestrade ushered us over, not noticing me yet. We were lead down the the street between two large houses. A teenage girl was slumped against the wooden fence, grey eyes staring into nothingness. There was a lot of blood on her chest. Sherlock bent down and started examining the victim.

"Like you said, Lestrade, seventeen year old, left handed, was running from something. There's a stab wound to the chest. You're looking for a wide blade: it sliced the heart but mostly got the left lung. She would have died within two and a half minutes." He looked up at the three of us watching him work. "Do you have an ID yet?" Lestrade shook his head.

"Hopefully we'll know more when we get her to St Bart's," he sighed.

"What was she doing out here?" I asked. "She must have run an awful long way." Lestrade spun around.

"Who- oh. Clara, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "I was the detour by the way."

"I knew it," the DI sighed. "You're just like him."

"Excuse me? He turned up at my hotel room banging on the door loud enough to wake everyone on the second floor, telling me to come with him to a crime scene!"

"And you agreed, didn't you," the DI pointed out.

"Yeah," I laughed.

"Why?"

"Why not? Today was going to be boring if I didn't." John and Lestrade shared a terrified look. I ignored them and stepped closer to the corpse.

"So where did she run from?" I asked Sherlock. "And why?"

"Well the answer to the second question is pretty obvious," Sherlock said.

"Granted, but why was she killed? Date rape gone wrong? Look at her clothes - she was obviously out partying or meeting someone." I indicated the short silver sequinned dress she was wearing and the matching heels.