Sherlock swept the light downward, the beam finding another envelope near the edge of the still wet paint trails.
Picking it up quickly between two fingers, Sherlock handed the bright light and the envelope to Celestia, motioning for her to brighten his search. The young woman was then illuminated, her figure able to be studied more closely in the constant light.
"She's dead," Sherlock announced after a moment. "But not long, her skin's still warm and the paint's still wet."
Celestia jerked her head over her shoulder instinctively. "So-so we just missed it then? We could have saved her life, if only for a few minutes?" she exclaimed, beginning to get mad at herself.
Sherlock looked at her blankly for a moment, then turned to face the corpse in the blackness. "She's about 22 I'd say, and not from this part of London. The style of her clothing and the precise makeup suggest she was going to meet someone for a something, most likely a date. Yes, definitely a date, there's an extremely faint smudge of black in the corner of her eye, she redid her eyeliner; OCD or just attentive to detail. She's well off but not wealthy; this and her more laid back outfit seem to explain the absence of any purse or bag. And of course she had an unhealthy obsession with the color blue." Sherlock was right. The multiple shades of this color and the almost exclusive frequency in which it was used should have made her look strange, tacky for sure. But it didn't. Her pale hair hung loosely over her blue ruffled top, brushing the jean jacket loosely. Her features could have made anyone turn and stare, admiring the perfect set of her mouth. Even the rainbow of azure couldn't make this beauty lose her shine, not even death could do that.
"I can see the cruel irony in that," Celestia stated, remembering the original case that had been characterized by an overabundance of pink.
Sherlock stood up quickly and strode up to her, burying his hands deep within his pockets. "Out, now," he commanded. Celestia hesitated, the torch wavering in her hand as she looked down at the envelope in her other hand before reluctantly agreeing.
"Fine," she breathed, lighting their way out of the building. She shivered as the crisp air hit her face. She had been in too much of a hurry to find a coat as they'd rushed out of Baker Street and her sweater did little to ward off the plummeting nighttime temperatures. A moment later she felt a lump of wool thrust forcefully in her direction. A hard glare that refused to meet her eye radiated from Sherlock's darkened face. Celestia was touched by the obviously reluctant gesture, but pushed the coat back at him with one hand as she turned to face him.
"I couldn't take your coat, Sherlock. I'll be fine; now let's just get a cab!" She leaned up and kissed his cheek lightly, her face red under the cover of darkness. "Thank you though," she whispered against his ear.
•••••••••••••••
Celestia expected something more to be in the envelope. A threat, another riddle, a clue of some kind, not just.... this. The stationary was clean and free of marks and alterations, excluding a few simple words.
Beat you, idiot :)
Sherlock plucked the paper out of her hands, turning it over before returning it to her open fingers. There was something on the back she had missed, apparently.
Stay tuned - JW
"So we just wait?" Celestia asked in disbelief. "That's it, we sit here and wait for him to kill someone else?"
"That's all we can do," Sherlock insisted, just as frustrated as his companion. "Just try and get some sleep, he won't wait long, but you'll have to be at your best when he's ready." They each had a cup of tea, pondering silently as they sipped the steaming liquid.
When Celestia plopped into her bed with a thump she fell asleep in a matter of minutes, her eyelids unusually heavy. Even the consulting detective, who normally avoided sleep, slipped easily into slumber quite against his own will.
When the morning dawned and Sherlock realized his mistake, he spotted an envelope laying on top of his television.
Stay tuned.
Ha. ha. ha...
As he rushed down the stairs he was met by Celestia, an identical letter clutched within her grasp. Quickly they read their's aloud.
Sherlock went first.
A blaze so high, a sky so dark
Will you make the mark?
Better hurry, better hurry
And Celestia read hers next.
A life on the line
A companion who's not who she first appeared
Would you want him to be seared?
"Neither of them sound complete," Celeste finally concluded after a moment of silence.
"No... No they fit together," Sherlock stated slowly, pulling the two papers together to compare and combine them.
A blaze so high, a sky so dark
A life on the line
Will you make the mark?
A companion who's not who she first appeared
Better hurry, better hurry
Would you want him to be seared?
"Great, another one," Celestia stated sarcastically. Sherlock simply smiled slightly to himself.
YOU ARE READING
No Vacancy at 221c: A BBC Sherlock Fanfic
Fanfiction*As featured on the official Sherlock reading list* The daughter of a wealthy Australian diplomat, Celestia Firethorne has fled to London to avoid her family's high expectations and a client turned stalker. When she comes across the long empty 221c...
