The Swan Queen | Sherlock

It Was Murder

 The trouble with life is that it has a nasty habit of sending something bad your way after everything has been so perfect. It was during rehearsal one morning that Detective Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan arrived. They had come to question all of us, myself included. Mark gave them the use of his office.

Lestrade saw me and asked to interview me first. I sat down on the sofa while he leaned against the desk, Donovan was standing by the closed door. "What's this about?" I asked.

"We're looking into your friend Clara's death," he replied.

"I didn't think it would be a police matter. She fell, it was an accident."

"It was made to look like an accident."

"I don't... I don't understand."

"The autopsy revealed a large quantity of drugs in her system-"

"No. No way! Clara would never willingly take drugs."

"But she didn't take them willingly, Miss Holmes," Donovan said. "At least, we're pretty certain she didn't."

I didn't understand at first. Then I realised. "You think someone else was behind it?"

"We found traces of sleeping pills in her water bottle, strong ones. We think someone put them in it to make her drowsy during her performance," said Lestrade.

"She was practising the cliff scene," I mumbled, "they did it knowing she would stumble. Someone wanted her to fall."

"They might not have intended for her to die, perhaps they thought she would break her leg."

Manslaughter, not murder. But malicious nonetheless. "She hit her head when she fell, they said she was already dead when they made it to the hospital."

"With the amount of sleeping pills they gave her I don't think whoever did it intended for her to live."

That was a troubling thought indeed, that one of my fellow dancers could be capable of that. People I have worked with and trained with for years. Was I a target now as the new swan queen? Because that's what this was all about, obviously. Someone wanted to be the swan queen. Bad enough to kill for it.

"Sam..." Lestrade was choosing his next words carefully. I could see the troubled expression in his eyes. "I hate to ask, but you know I have to."

"I know, and I understand. But it wasn't me."

"You had the most to gain over everyone else," replied Donovan. "As Clara's understudy, when she died the role fell to you."

"That doesn't mean I did it."

"I know, and I believe you." Lestrade smiled reassuringly at me. I half smiled back. I was allowed to leave after that if I had nothing else to say. Which I didn't.

Something must have happened during the interviews. None of us were allowed to leave while it happened so we practised. Next thing we knew, a team of forensics were drafted in to search the locker room.

"I hope they don't find my weed," Anne-Marie whispered.

"Of course they will, you idiot. They find everything," Amanda replied. That sent a mass panic through everyone, worrying about what the team might find. No one was practising anymore.

The interviews continued all afternoon and the forensics were going through each locker carefully. By 3 pm we were all getting restless. I was sat on the edge of the stage, staring out at the empty rows. My gaze drifted up to the different boxes situated high up above everyone else. I imagined myself dressed up in the finest attire, attending the theatre instead of performing for once. I could sit up there feeling ever so grand, like a Lady or a Queen.