BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Sherlock: Despicable Kiss

Request for Imightbeaddicted

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"Well this isn't a good sight to see," said John. "No pun intended." The detective and the doctor stood side by side around the three bodies, making sure they didn't step on the eyeballs that had been scooped out from their sockets and laid carelessly around them. "I mean who would do something like that?" asked John, making a disgusted face.

"Someone who is very emotionally disturbed and likes attention," said a female voice from behind them. They turned around to look at her - (y/h/c) hair, (height), and undeniably pretty. "Or who just hates the human race, which I mean, I don't blame them."

"Who are you?" asked Sherlock. His voice was gruff and impatient, but his eyes betrayed him with a marveled gleam.

"Does it matter? This is the only time I'll be here, and names are such a waste of breath if there won't be any use for them in the future," she answered, barely flicking her eyes over him.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in curiosity, remembering how he used to think the same thing. He wanted to know her name though, for some weird, unknown reason that he would have to dissect and find out later. "Well my name is-"

"I really don't care," she interrupted, smiling politely at him before kneeling down and beginning to inspect the one of the dead bodies.

Sherlock watched her, his facial expression changing from disdain, to wonder, to admiration, and back again. After looking into the victim's mouths and inspecting different parts of their body, the woman leaned back, ready to say something. "The victims all seem to be-"

"Dead. Obviously," interrupted Sherlock. He knelt down next to her. "Even John here could've guessed that right." The woman glared at him with (y/e/c) eyes, annoyed with his know-it-all attitude.

"Excuse me but-" John stepped forward, ready to defend himself, but Sherlock interrupted again.

"All victims have the same pattern of dots poked into the skin of their wrist, which means the killer leaves a signature behind. And-"

"And all the bodies are left lying in the same position: heads facing to the right, left arm placed over the body and the right arm stiff at the side, right foot placed so it's touching the left knee, left leg straight. So the serial killer does this for a reason, or-"

"Or because he has really bad OCD," finished off Sherlock. The lady watched him approvingly as he took out his magnifying glass and held it to the red dots on the victims hands. "Both conclusions lead to dead ends though, so you really did all that hard work observing for nothing."

"Oh really? And you know I'm wrong because?" She crossed her arms in adorable defiance which made Sherlock smirk; he also loved the look of pure irritation and jealousy plastered on her face. In the background John groaned and muttered "Here we go again."

"Well, considering there is a constant pattern of dots, and there are obvious spaces in between each pattern, the dots then correspond to letters to make a name, the serial killer's name. But these aren't just random dots put together, no these dots make up different numbers in the braille language. The numbers, then, correspond to the 26 letters of the alphabet. So the guys' name is-"

"John," stated the woman proudly, her eyes scanning quickly over the dots.

"Yes?" asked John, stepping closer.

"No sorry, that's the killers name," she chuckled, standing straight and sending a smug look towards Sherlock who was visibly fuming from having his thunder taken away from him. Then Sherlock cocked his head, and his eyes slid toward John. He looked skeptically at the doctor as he slowly reached for the gun hidden in his coat.