Courtney Moriarty always stood apart from the crowd. She had grown up on the streets of London with her younger brothers. Their was only one thing holding her onto sanity... her best friend Sherlock Holmes.
Disclaimer: I unfortunately do not own the...
Beep. Beep. Beep. BANG! Great, that's the third alarm clock I've accidentally shot in the past month. I think part of me wants to forget about work because I keep deleting the fact I have an alarm clock from my mind palace.
You must be wondering why on Earth I sleep with a gun underneath my pillow. You probably also are wondering whether I'm completely sane. Well, when your brother is a psychopath, you learn to keep a gun by you at all times.
And as for completely sane, I'm having this conversation in my mind. So your answer is most likely no. Sorry to disappoint.
"Gods of Gallifrey! Can't you go one month without shooting something Quartz?'' My flatmate, Julia, complains.
Did I forget to mention my flatmate's an alien? Don't ask how I got the nickname Quartz, I don't remember. But I have a gut feeling that Jim gave me that nickname.
Honestly, when Julia told me she was an alien, I thought she was in desperate need for mental help. Mostly because it was obvious she wasn't lying. It wasn't till I saw her regenerate did I believe her.
Julia's current form had strawberry blonde hair and the prettiest eyes I have ever seen. They are a dark indigo with streaks of dark blue in them.
"If I went a month without shooting something, I give you permission to enter me in a mental hospital. '' I answer while rolling my eyes. And with that, I was on my way to work. I tended to skateboard to work except for when it is raining.
I work as a sketch artist and detective for Scotland Yard. Unlike Sherlock, I like to get payed for being a genius. I'm not even sure how Sherlock gets his money. My bet is he gets it from Mycroft.
My phone starts to ring and I immediately answer. "Why hello, Gregster. What you got for me?"
" It's Greg. There's been another suicide." Greg exclaims in an annoyed tone.
------------------------------------time skip brought by the art of deduction -----------------------------------
"Ah, you must be Sherlock's new flat mate. Good luck with that." I say as I stand up. "I'm Courtney."
"I'm John." He says.
"Any ideas?'' Lestrange asks.
"You know it. I have a theory. I don't think these were suicides. These were murders. Where's the luggage?" I ask.
"What luggage?" Greg questions.
"She obviously had a luggage. Can't you tell by the splashes on her stockings? " I say.
"So she's german?" Lestrange asks.
"Of course she's not. She's new to this town.'' Sherlock starts.
"But she intended to stay here for the night. Never made it to the hotel."I continue.
"Doctor Watson, what do you think?" Sherlock asks.
"He means of the body. " I start. "I believe she was trying to write 'Rachel' but never got to finish."
"Well? " Sherlock asks John. While John and Sherlock argue silently I start to think aloud.
"But who is Rachel? Maybe it is a password of some sort. Anderson, find out who Rachel is. " I demand.
"Why do I have to do it?'' He complains.
"Because I'm busy.'' I remark.
" Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I'm guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase. " Sherlock rants.
"Wasn't this women investigating the murders?'' I ask. Before anyone can answer,I continue. "The murder probably went after her because she was the smartest reporter. She's been unhappily married for ten years, and has many affairs.''
''If you two are making it up..." Greg trails off.
"Her wedding ring is obviously at least ten years old. The rest of her jewelry is fairly clean." Sherlock exclaims.
"Except the wedding ring, which sums up how she feels about the marriage. " I suply.
"The inside of the ring is cleaner than the outside, suggesting she constantly takes it off." Sherlock announces.
"Correct, my dear Shirley. (a/n: I gave up fighting autocorrect.) She never stays single for long, overwise both sides of the ring would be in equal condition." I announce.
"You're brilliant!"John exclaims. I turn to look at John in surprize. Usually I get 'Your crazy' and 'Freak.'
"You. I like you, Johnny boy. I think I'll keep you. Get used to the nickname, I will probably be using it for a while." I say, lightly poking John's chest to make sure he's human.
"Cardif?" Greg asks.
"It's obvious." Sherlock and I exclaim together.
'' Not to me." John replies.
"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring. " Sherlock ponders.
"Maybe I'll teach you some time. I know she came from Cardiff because it hasn't rained in London in the last couple of days. She turned her color up to protect herself from the wind. In fact, It was so windy that she couldn't use an umbrella. Take it from here, Sherly?" I rant.
"Ah, yes. And as always, dear Quartz, you are correct. I know from her suitcase that she was intending on staying the night. She can't have traveled more than three hours because her coat is still soaked. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardif." Sherlock finches.
"That's fantastic!" John exclaims.
"I'm definitely keeping you. At least someone appreciates me. " I mutter. "Wait what did you say about the suitcase?"
"There is no suitcase." Greg says but I'm already running down the stairs.
