Born Mad

Chapter Three: Elementary, My Dear Holmes

I picked the lock to the old flat using a few bobby pins I had found and slowly entered. I was silent as I crept up those seventeen steps, easing my way into the drawing room without taking a breath. No one home? Perfect.

I was seated in a push armchair and playing with a skull when they returned, and I must say I rather enjoyed the look of shock that flickered across the consulting detective's face while the doctor nearly keeled over in faint. "Sherlock Holmes and John Hamish Watson, I presume?"

"Oh, don't bother going for the revolver," I chuckled as Watson's hand reached for the pistol resting on the end kitchen table. "You wouldn't shoot even if you held it in your hands. The good doctor's too much of a nurturer for that."

"I've killed people," he stated firmly, and I grinned.

"Well, so have I!" I exclaimed, throwing the skull into the air with a laugh and catching it again. "Join the club, Doctor. Now, Mister Holmes, can you tell me where you got this piece from? I daresay, I think I know this fellow. He was a good friend of mine from the asylum. They called him Psycho Steve. Say, did you know it was possible to murder seven people with a plastic fork? I learned a lot from Steve..."

"The things you learn," Watson remarked dryly, catching the skull as I tossed it to him and turned my attention to the detective glaring daggers at me.

I leaned forward in my seat, clasping my hands together as I asked eagerly, "Now, would you like to go first, or should I?"

"Ladies first..." he murmured thoughtfully, circling me like a vulture around its prey. I paid it no mind.

"Well, your clothes are wet, but only the elbow, meaning you were leaning on something with your arm propped up. Now I would think outside, but no. There's a faint smell of bourbon about you, so I would say you were at a bar. Now you aren't one to drink by what I've heard so you must have been on a case."

I grinned as I was given an even more threatening glare. "So I was right! Splendid! Now let's continue; shall we? Doctor Watson came with you as a back-up, yet he left his revolver here. Why? If he was working on a case with you, of course he would bring his military issued pistol! It's a common defense. Well, obviously he hadn't planned on helping you. He was going on a date, and you tagged along again!"

"How do you know so much about us?" His voice was cold and calculating, yet there was curious tone beneath it.

"Elementary, my dear Holmes! It was really a rather simple deduction," I stated simply, loving how irked the two men were becoming. "Now would you care to hear about the doctor's date? Oh, of course you would."

"Long, shoulder length brown hair. Crimson lipstick. About five foot six. Another teacher? Really, Doctor, pick something more exciting for a change."

"Is that it?"

"No, not at all, my dear Holmes! She wore a fine red evening gown with sequins and a white jacket along with a fake pearls. How's that?"

"You're quite the intelligent one," he remarked simply before nearly snarling, "My turn."

He gave me a quick look-over. "You've been on the run."

"Told by my shoes and probably the near broken jawbone along with the bruise forming beneath my eye."

"Correct. You've been firing a gun recently."

"Gun residue on my hands. Next?"

"You were locked away for quite some time."

"My pale complexion and the bruising on my wrists. Give me something more complicated."

"You've been strangled."