Under the desk, Sherlock does surely indecent things to Jessica's feet, taking scrapings, picking at the skin under her big toe nails. Tattoo ink. That takes time. She wasn't killed her.
Her clothes are dry, all of them, but the blood vessels in her eyes had burst as if she had been strangled. Or suffocated. Sherlock knew it was the latter, drowning in smoke that burned up her lungs. What a way to go.
There's water on the ground and pooled onto the desk. He dabs at it with his handkerchief and brings it to his nose to smell it.
Salt water.
Sherlock scrawled the cipher on a piece of paper with Mycroft's letterhead on it and came up with a T.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
That's pretty adorable. Sherlock would be quite proud that he caused Mycroft to become who he is!
Date: 2011-01-09 05:10 am (UTC)Her clothes are dry, all of them, but the blood vessels in her eyes had burst as if she had been strangled. Or suffocated. Sherlock knew it was the latter, drowning in smoke that burned up her lungs. What a way to go.
There's water on the ground and pooled onto the desk. He dabs at it with his handkerchief and brings it to his nose to smell it.
Salt water.
Sherlock scrawled the cipher on a piece of paper with Mycroft's letterhead on it and came up with a T.
"One more. Y. Oh...brilliant."