Story Night 150322

W: Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed. S: Yes. Yes, I think so, my thoughts precisely. So I went straight ahead and moved in. W: Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned up… Oh. So this is all… S: Well, obviously I can straighten things up a bit. W: That's a skull. S: Friend of mine. When I say friend… H: What do you think, then, Dr Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms. W: Of course we'll be needing two. H: Oh, don't worry, there's all sorts round here. Mrs Turner next door's got married ones. Oh...Sherlock! The mess you've made. W: I looked you up on the internet last night. S: Anything interesting? W: Found your website. The Science of Deduction. S: What did you think? W: You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb? S: Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone. W: How? H: What about these suicides, then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same. S: Four. There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time. H: A fourth? S: Where? L: Brixton, Lauriston Gardens. S: What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to me otherwise there was something different. L: You know how they never leave notes? S: Yeah. L: This one did. Will you come? S: Who's on forensics? L: Anderson. S: He doesn't work well with me. L: Well, he won't be your assistant. S: I need an assistant. L: Will you come? S: Not in a police car, I'll be right behind. L: Thank you. S: Brilliant! Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas. Mrs Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food. L: I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper. S: Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up! H: Look at him, dashing about... My husband was just the same. But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell. I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg. W: Damn my leg! Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing... H: I understand, dear, I've got a hip. W: Cup of tea'd be lovely. Thank you. H: Just this once, dear, I'm not your housekeeper. W: Couple of biscuits too, if you've got 'em. H: Not your housekeeper! W: What am I doing here? S: Helping me make a point. W: I'm supposed to help you pay the rent. S: This is more fun. Ｗ: Fun? There's a woman lying dead. S: Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you'd go deeper. W: Yeah... Asphyxiation... probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure. Possibly drugs. S: You know what it was, you've read the papers. W: Well, she's one of the suicides. The fourth...? L: Sherlock, two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got. S: Victim is in her late 30s. Professional person, going by her clothes. I'm guessing the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night from the size of her suitcase. L: Suitcase? S: Suitcase, yes. She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers, but none of them knew she was married. L: Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up... S: Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside is shinier than the outside, so it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or who does she remove her rings for? Not one lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single for that long, so more likely a string of them. Simple. W: That's brilliant. Sorry. L: Cardiff? S: It's obvious, isn't it? W: It's not obvious to me. S: Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring. Her coat it's slightly damp, she's been in heavy rain in the last few hours no rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her pocket, but it's dry and unused. Not just wind, strong wind too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours, because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff. W: That's fantastic. S: Do you know you do that out loud? W: Sorry, I'll shut up. S: No, it's...fine. L: Why do you keep saying suitcase? S:Yes, where is it?　She must have had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is. L: She was writing Rachel? S: No, she was leaving an angry note in German! Of course she was writing Rachel, no other word it can be. But why did she wait until she was dying to write it? L: How do you know she had a suitcase? S: Tiny splash marks on her right heel and calf not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying one night. Where is it? What have you done with it? L: There wasn't a case. S: Say that again. L: There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase. S: Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house? L: Sherlock, there was no case! S: But they take the poison themselves, they swallow the pills. There are clear signs, even you lot couldn't miss them. L: Right, yeah, thanks. And…? S: It's murder, all of them. I don't know how. But they're not suicides, they're serial killings. We've got a serial killer. I love it. There's always something to look forward to. L: Why are you saying that? Sorry，字数限制