Sherlock: His Enigma Called A

Catching Cats {Adelaide}

"Come along, Adelaide," Sherlock calls as I climb out of the taxi, careful not to squish my ankle again. He waits until I'm out of the vehicle at least before turning and starting to walk towards the crime scene, "This should be a fairly simple case. Stay close and ignore Donovan."

"Alright."

He abruptly turns to face me, still walking backwards, "I suppose I should give you the details of the case."

"It might be nice since I'm your assistant."

He turns back around and I power walk to catch up as we near the police tape, "A thirty eight year old man was discovered murdered in his flat this morning. It appears he was strangled but of course since I haven't seen him yet, I cannot allow the Yard to mistakenly classify it as such. There has been a string of murders this week where the victim was asphyxiated. I think there is a connection."

"So a serial killer, then?"

He nods his head, "Yes." He lifts up the police tape for me- high enough to where I barely need to duck under it.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," He follows and nudges me forward, "The victim also has several abrasions and lesions, according to Garrett. They seem to be animal-inflicted, possibly by his cat. Since you are a cat owner and have the most experience handling animals, I will need you to catch the feline. It has been outmaneuvering the Yard since they arrived."

"Glad to help!" I say perhaps too eagerly. It's exciting to have been asked by Sherlock to assist him on a case. Even if it's as simple as catching a cat for him. The actual catching process may not be easy, but it's a small way to help him.

He leads the way up a flight of stairs and into one of the flats, where I gravitate towards him to keep from bumping into the other officers. We enter the bedroom and find DI Lestrade, Sergeant Donovan and another guy in a forensics jumpsuit, "Lestrade."

"Oh, hey, Sherlock. Er, where's John?"

Sherlock steps to the side and reveals me, "Unavailable. I brought Adelaide instead. She will catch the victim's feline."

The three others look at me with varied expressions. Lestrade eyes me and Sherlock but smiles and puts his hand forward. We shake hands and he speaks, "I didn't think I'd be seeing you around again, Adelaide."

I then hear Donovan grunt, "Sherlock Holmes. Bringing his girlfriend to a crime scene again."

Ignore her. I try to act like I didn't hear her and respond to Lestrade, "I'm happy to come along and help. Where was the last you saw the cat?"

"In the other bedroom under the bed. It's name is Harvey. A bit of a brute- scratched up a couple officers," Donovan replies, "Are you sure she should be the one to catch him, sir?"

"I've got two cats at home-"

"And she is a professional animal handler. She's qualified," Sherlock butts in and then gestures with a nod towards the door, "I'll be in here. Go on."

I nod and step out, heading to the other bedroom. The officers closed the door to contain Harvey so I slowly open the door and quietly enter, "Harvey?" I put my purse down and get down on the floor to check under the bed. Sure enough there's a set of green eyes staring at me. I glance around and see the kitty carrier sitting at the ready, "Let's get you in there then."

In two minutes, Harvey is curled up in the carrier with a savagely pissed off expression and I have a few good scratches on my hands. I pick the plastic crate up and retrieve my purse, dusting myself off as I exit the room. I find Donovan outside and when she sees me her jaw drops for a moment, "How-?"

I just shrug and step into the main bedroom again. Sherlock is bent over the victim with a magnifying glass so I walk to Lestrade, "Where would you like him?"

He blanches, "That fast? You got him in there that quickly?"

"Yes. Harvey here isn't happy about it."

"Here," Sherlock says suddenly and I look over at him, "The cat. Here."

"Okay..." I bring the carrier over and set it down on the bed, finally looking at the victim. There seem to be many scratches on his face and upper body.

Sherlock opens the carrier and reaches for one of Harvey's paws, "Whomever killed him used the cat as a frontal shield during a physical confrontation. Thus the killer knew the victim and vice versa."

"No wonder he's not wanting to be touched. He was picked up and thrown at his owner and got caught up in the fight," I comment mostly to myself, "Then wouldn't the mass of cat hair and scratched up carpet outside be where they fought..?"

Sherlock fixes on me, "Come again?"

I slowly repeat, "There's a spot on the carpet in the living room where the carpet is pulled up and there's tufts of fur matching Harvey's coat all around. Near the coffee table, I think?"

Sherlock bounces off the mattress and cups my head, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead, "Brilliant, Adelaide!" Then he bolts out of the room, leaving me bright red and too surprised to move. Again!?!?

Thank you for reading!! Cheers!