jennyhasting221b:

aurora221b:

[Aurora is finishing up with the simple dinner, dashing through the kitchen to set the table as well. Just as she had set the dishes on the table, she heard Jenny at the door, and went to answer it.]

[Jenny walked down the road to the familiar door of Aurora’s appartment, looking forward to the dinner and whatever else Aurora had planned for her. She knocked on the door and waited, unable to stop a smile from growing on her face. No matter how many times she met Aurora, it still made her feel just as happy, just as excited. As Aurora opened the door her smile turned into a grin]

Hello, 

[She said but the real greeting came when she leaned up and kissed Aurora, wrapping her arms around her waist and just appreciating for a second how wonderful she really was.] 

Jenny!

[Aurora loved it when Jenny did that. When she kissed her, holding her around the waist like that. It was such a simple act, and it shouldn’t mean so much. But it never failed to send a chemical cocktail of dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine through her system. And she loved every bit of it.]

Come inside, join me for dinner.

[She said, gesturing to the kitchen table, places set for the two of them.]

[Aurora is finishing up with the simple dinner, dashing through the kitchen to set the table as well. Just as she had set the dishes on the table, she heard Jenny at the door, and went to answer it.]

jennyhasting221b:

aurora221b:

jennyhasting221b:

[Jenny practically ran over to Aurora’s apartment, still not completely certain that she wasn’t in trouble and also eager to find out the surprise she supposedly had in stock for her. All sorts of ideas were reeling through her head but none of them would linger, and she couldn’t focus on any of them. She finally arrived at the door to find a note stuck to it. She took it off and looked at the fancy handwriting that she knew was Aurora’s. It simply said ‘come in’. She hesitated a second before pushing open the door and looking around. The flat seemed completely empty and the worry was starting to creep back. She glanced around all the rooms before turning to the bedroom, the only room she hadn’t checked. She opened the door to a sight that made the bag she was holding fall to the floor in shock.]

[in the time that it had taken Jenny to get to the flat, Aurora had managed to tie herself to the bedposts, and was left in nothing but lacy lingerie. Jenny seemed more worried than Aurora would have thought, and she was hoping this would make up. 

As Jenny dropped her bag, Aurora couldn’t exactly read her emotions, and wasn’t sure what Jenny was thinking.]

Jenny, love?

[Jenny just stared at the marvellous surprise she had infront of her. She was unable to move for a second as she fully took in the beauty before her.]

I love you,

[Jenny breathed, beginning to take slow steps towards the bed. She finally reached in and traced a finger up Aurora’s bare leg, still unbelieving of how lucky she was. Her finger reached the lacy underwear and her brain finally kicked into gear. A smile spread across her face, and she crawled onto the bed above Aurora, shedding her coat in the process. She placed a light kiss on her collar bone and chuckled softly]

All this just for me?

I love you too, Jenny. And of course, I am yours. 

[Aurora was pleased that Jenny was happy, and then continued with her only slightly-thought out plan.]

Now, Jenny, I am at your mercy.

[She said, with her devious grin.]

Do with me what you please.

jennyhasting221b:

[Jenny practically ran over to Aurora’s apartment, still not completely certain that she wasn’t in trouble and also eager to find out the surprise she supposedly had in stock for her. All sorts of ideas were reeling through her head but none of them would linger, and she couldn’t focus on any of them. She finally arrived at the door to find a note stuck to it. She took it off and looked at the fancy handwriting that she knew was Aurora’s. It simply said ‘come in’. She hesitated a second before pushing open the door and looking around. The flat seemed completely empty and the worry was starting to creep back. She glanced around all the rooms before turning to the bedroom, the only room she hadn’t checked. She opened the door to a sight that made the bag she was holding fall to the floor in shock.]

[in the time that it had taken Jenny to get to the flat, Aurora had managed to tie herself to the bedposts, and was left in nothing but lacy lingerie. Jenny seemed more worried than Aurora would have thought, and she was hoping this would make up. 

As Jenny dropped her bag, Aurora couldn’t exactly read her emotions, and wasn’t sure what Jenny was thinking.]

Jenny, love?

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

[The man quickly stepped aside, slurring curses under his breath, not wanting to mess with Holmes.]

I could have handled that, Holmes.

[Aurora said, as she continued on to the actual crime scene. She never did like it when people did things for her, even when their intentions were good. Regardless, she continued on, into the building, up to the loft. There were fine speckles of paint everywhere, in every hue, tint, tone, and shade one could possibly imagine. In one section, there looked to be a potter’s wheel, in another a welding station, perhaps for metal sculpture. 

There, in the centre of the clutter and mess, sat the body. She was carefully sat on her stool, facing her canvas on an easel. The body was placed just so that when one walked into the flat, she looked as if she was working on another piece. Instead of paint dripping down the canvas, though, was her own blood, dripping down from the severed digits, pinned to the canvas, in the form of what her hands used to look like.]

Here you go Holmes. Think it’s up to your standards?

[Holmes moved forward quickly, assessing the scene. An artist forming an artist in their own environment. The blood was aged to brown on the canvas. The severed fingertips were pinned in an almost symmetrical fashion.]

Aurora, tell me what you get from this. 

[He wanted to see what her theories would be.] 

Well, someone was obviously trying to send a message. I think that the killer wanted to cut her where it hurt the most, and what better place to do that than her fingers, for an artist. 

[She continued, slowly circling the scene, trying to get as much as she could, and not disappoint Holmes.]

It was also obviously premeditated, a crime of passion would not be this neat, I don’t think, at least. 

[Aurora stares at the canvas, focusing hard]

The way these fingers are placed, with the blood the way it is, it makes me want to think that it was a fellow artist who did this to her.

[Looking at the body again, a look of confusion starts on her face.]

As for the cause of death, I really don’t have a clue. There are no signs of asphyxiation, I don’t see any signs of blunt force trauma, no bruising.

[She looks back at Holmes, awaiting his take on the matter.]

How poorly have I done?

Don’t predetermine yourself Aurora, it makes Anderson look like even he has confidence.

[Crossing his hands behind his back, he stood next to her and sighed]

You are correct. No bruising, no blunt force trauma, and there isn’t any sign of asphyxiation. At least, not on the physical surface, not on the neck, not anywhere. No ropes were used, if that’s what you were wondering.

[His finger traced in front of Aurora, pointing to the spine]

How can someone position a body to stay upright for so long? Rigor mortis usually lasts for about twelve hours, but this body has been here for longer than that, at least by a few hours more. It should be slumping by now.

[he paused]

Oh, you are absolutely correct in the murder being premeditated, they knew most certainly what they were doing…

[Sherlock’s eyes glittered, almost in admiration]

…they wanted to make a point with this particular individual…

[Stepping between the canvas and the body, he pointed at the face]

No bruising. No visible marks. BUT—

[The way he talked, he could have licked the neck of the body]

—The clear sheen on the face? Pores barely visible? But the body is erect, unmoving? Paralytics. Whoever did this wanted the person to suffer. What better way to do that, then to administer a neuromuscular-blocking drug without anesthesia? It’s almost perfect! 

[He then turned to the canvas]

This person watched the entire time, for two hours, before they died. Not only did they watch, but they felt, as the tips of their fingers were removed in small, delicate splices and placed up here. Whoever did this timed it very well, and obviously knew the priorities of the individual. Using your vision is a part of being an artist, or am I wrong?

[She followed his every word, taking careful note of everything. She felt a little ashamed for not have recognising the rigor mortis, but still listened in utter admiration of Holmes.]

I’ll text Greg, have him tell the lab to look for traces of the paralytic. That sort of thing must be relatively simple to trace back to a buyer.

You say ‘almost perfect’. Why? What was the killer’s big mistake?

And how exactly did this girl die?

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

[The man quickly stepped aside, slurring curses under his breath, not wanting to mess with Holmes.]

I could have handled that, Holmes.

[Aurora said, as she continued on to the actual crime scene. She never did like it when people did things for her, even when their intentions were good. Regardless, she continued on, into the building, up to the loft. There were fine speckles of paint everywhere, in every hue, tint, tone, and shade one could possibly imagine. In one section, there looked to be a potter’s wheel, in another a welding station, perhaps for metal sculpture. 

There, in the centre of the clutter and mess, sat the body. She was carefully sat on her stool, facing her canvas on an easel. The body was placed just so that when one walked into the flat, she looked as if she was working on another piece. Instead of paint dripping down the canvas, though, was her own blood, dripping down from the severed digits, pinned to the canvas, in the form of what her hands used to look like.]

Here you go Holmes. Think it’s up to your standards?

[Holmes moved forward quickly, assessing the scene. An artist forming an artist in their own environment. The blood was aged to brown on the canvas. The severed fingertips were pinned in an almost symmetrical fashion.]

Aurora, tell me what you get from this. 

[He wanted to see what her theories would be.] 

Well, someone was obviously trying to send a message. I think that the killer wanted to cut her where it hurt the most, and what better place to do that than her fingers, for an artist. 

[She continued, slowly circling the scene, trying to get as much as she could, and not disappoint Holmes.]

It was also obviously premeditated, a crime of passion would not be this neat, I don’t think, at least. 

[Aurora stares at the canvas, focusing hard]

The way these fingers are placed, with the blood the way it is, it makes me want to think that it was a fellow artist who did this to her.

[Looking at the body again, a look of confusion starts on her face.]

As for the cause of death, I really don’t have a clue. There are no signs of asphyxiation, I don’t see any signs of blunt force trauma, no bruising.

[She looks back at Holmes, awaiting his take on the matter.]

How poorly have I done?

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

[Aurora walked down the streets of London in her trainers, on her way to Baker Street, keeping the case file under her arm. She hadn’t actually been to Holmes’s flat in a while, so she hurried. Upon reaching the door, she knocked quietly.]

Holmes? 

[She said, waiting to be let in.]

[Mrs. Hudston answered the door, ushering Aurora in. The stairs to the living area, familiar as ever, slightly creaked as she stepped up. She walked in on Holmes standing perpendicular to the window, gazing out. The room was a cluttered mess, papers stuck under table legs, a petri-dish with the ashes of burned up hair, and darts stuck to the threshold of the door she was entering through.]

You realize you can open the front door with your weaker hand? It would be preferable if you kept cases in your stronger grip. No matter. Sit down.

[He gestured to John’s chair, closing the curtains slightly behind him]

Yes, Holmes, my mistake, won’t happen again. Though I am perfectly capable of keeping hold of a case file, thank you.

[She sat down in Doctor Watson’s chair, and cleared a space for the case file on the table in front of her, being careful not to disturb any of Holmes’s experiments, whether they seemed important or not.]

So this is what they found at the crime scene. A girl, about 16 years of age. Her hands were precisely cut, at each digit of her fingers precisely cut antemortem. She was an artist, or a self proclaimed one, as it says in her records, so I presume this was a murder specifically designed to torture the girl. The cuts were all very clean, to the point that they even look like they’d been bandaged. The actual cause of death has not been determined, yet.

[She held out the photos in Holmes’s direction, and when he didn’t move from his spot at the window, Aurora got up and handed them to him.]

Any thoughts?

[He examined the files, and flicked his gaze back to Aurora.]

Lestrade doesn’t approve of the bite marks on your neck. At least hide them so we can have more information.

[Scanning the pages, he asked,]

How deep were the cuts? Can we still go see the body?

[She tugs at her collar in an effort to cover the marks up. She’s never wanted to cover them up, but if it would get her further in a case, she followed Holmes’s direction.]

The cuts went straight through. The fingers were slowly amputated, and the killer was careful to bandage the victim up before the next. If I were to guess, I’d say she pissed off someone who knew how to get her where it hurt. And I believe the body to still be at the crime scene, even. Only got the case a few hours ago.

[Holmes sat down across from Aurora, fingers at attention to his chin, and he smiled.]

The fingers being severed slowly from the furthest joint to the closest is most interesting, of course. But what I find more intriguing is how she was kept still the entire time. We need to check her wrists for any signs of chafing. Check her ankles. 

[He tapped his forefingers a few times, eyes glittering.]

We will need to do a salivary and blood check. 

[Leaping from his chair, he looped his scarf around his neck, then sidled his coat on]

Lead me there. This murderer is an artist, in of himself.

Himself? How can you be sure the murderer is a man?

[Aurora asked, as she gathered the files, threw her coat on, and began on her way out of the flat. She walked down the streets, taking Holmes’s other suggestions into mind, leading him to the crime scene, the tape still blocking it off.]

I’m not sure if it’s a man or not. I do not have all of the information. I only say it as a replacement, and because it is statistically more likely. And I hear your bias

[he eyed her neck critically again]

in respect to your situation. However, I am glad you pointed the possibility out, however personal it may be.

[Rolling the thoughts in his head, he wanted to know if there was sedative involved. If so, the victim would not have been fully aware of the pain that was being inflicted upon her. He could double-check by drawing blood, by taking saliva, maybe even a hair sample. He wanted to know if there was rope or perhaps handcuffs, if sedative wasn’t the case. He needed to know what the cuts specifically looked like. Small incisions? Done in chunks? The types of bandages used, what the position of the body looked like, and the surroundings. It was always about the details, right down to whether or not the girl was able to drop blood on her pant leg or not.]

I sincerely hope that Lestrade has not moved anything. Messing up data, much like the people he leads in his division…

[He eyed a group of police nearby. As they arrived on the scene, a flint of a smile twitched his lips, his eyes already scavenging.]

[She ignored the police tape, walking underneath of it, leading Holmes to the scene, until one of the police from nearby came over, confused look on the older officer’s face.]

“Excuse me, miss, this is a crime scene, you are not allowed past that tape, see? Plus, it wouldn’t do for a little lady like yourself to see such a gruesome sight.” [he said, as he approached Aurora. She was almost furious with this ignorant little man and his wrongful, sexist assumptions.]

Excuse me? I am no “little lady”. I am working in correspondence with Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. I have been given access to the case files, see? [She briefly waves the files in front of the officer’s face.] Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go and look at the actual crime scene, so that I can help you and your little team find this killer.

[She went to continue walking past the man when he stopped her, once again.]

“Now, miss, you can’t just go walking into our crime scene—”

-and you shouldn’t be on the job, four hours after drinking. Your performance as a nuisance to society will only increase with your pathetic intoxication. 

[Sherlock’s tall frame half-hid Aurora from the view of the cop. The man was not one to be trusted in this state of mind. He had more than likely let off a few attractive women earlier from paying their speeding tickets. Narrowing his eyes, he continued,]

Your wife wouldn’t approve either, I’m sure. Wouldn’t matter to your son, since he’s abusing the same substance.

[Towering over,]

Given the nature of our affiliation to her relation to the case, and your drunken nature, it would be best off to let us through.

[The man quickly stepped aside, slurring curses under his breath, not wanting to mess with Holmes.]

I could have handled that, Holmes.

[Aurora said, as she continued on to the actual crime scene. She never did like it when people did things for her, even when their intentions were good. Regardless, she continued on, into the building, up to the loft. There were fine speckles of paint everywhere, in every hue, tint, tone, and shade one could possibly imagine. In one section, there looked to be a potter’s wheel, in another a welding station, perhaps for metal sculpture. 

There, in the centre of the clutter and mess, sat the body. She was carefully sat on her stool, facing her canvas on an easel. The body was placed just so that when one walked into the flat, she looked as if she was working on another piece. Instead of paint dripping down the canvas, though, was her own blood, dripping down from the severed digits, pinned to the canvas, in the form of what her hands used to look like.]

Here you go Holmes. Think it’s up to your standards?

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

thesherlockholmes221b:

aurora221b:

[Aurora walked down the streets of London in her trainers, on her way to Baker Street, keeping the case file under her arm. She hadn’t actually been to Holmes’s flat in a while, so she hurried. Upon reaching the door, she knocked quietly.]

Holmes? 

[She said, waiting to be let in.]

[Mrs. Hudston answered the door, ushering Aurora in. The stairs to the living area, familiar as ever, slightly creaked as she stepped up. She walked in on Holmes standing perpendicular to the window, gazing out. The room was a cluttered mess, papers stuck under table legs, a petri-dish with the ashes of burned up hair, and darts stuck to the threshold of the door she was entering through.]

You realize you can open the front door with your weaker hand? It would be preferable if you kept cases in your stronger grip. No matter. Sit down.

[He gestured to John’s chair, closing the curtains slightly behind him]

Yes, Holmes, my mistake, won’t happen again. Though I am perfectly capable of keeping hold of a case file, thank you.

[She sat down in Doctor Watson’s chair, and cleared a space for the case file on the table in front of her, being careful not to disturb any of Holmes’s experiments, whether they seemed important or not.]

So this is what they found at the crime scene. A girl, about 16 years of age. Her hands were precisely cut, at each digit of her fingers precisely cut antemortem. She was an artist, or a self proclaimed one, as it says in her records, so I presume this was a murder specifically designed to torture the girl. The cuts were all very clean, to the point that they even look like they’d been bandaged. The actual cause of death has not been determined, yet.

[She held out the photos in Holmes’s direction, and when he didn’t move from his spot at the window, Aurora got up and handed them to him.]

Any thoughts?

[He examined the files, and flicked his gaze back to Aurora.]

Lestrade doesn’t approve of the bite marks on your neck. At least hide them so we can have more information.

[Scanning the pages, he asked,]

How deep were the cuts? Can we still go see the body?

[She tugs at her collar in an effort to cover the marks up. She’s never wanted to cover them up, but if it would get her further in a case, she followed Holmes’s direction.]

The cuts went straight through. The fingers were slowly amputated, and the killer was careful to bandage the victim up before the next. If I were to guess, I’d say she pissed off someone who knew how to get her where it hurt. And I believe the body to still be at the crime scene, even. Only got the case a few hours ago.

[Holmes sat down across from Aurora, fingers at attention to his chin, and he smiled.]

The fingers being severed slowly from the furthest joint to the closest is most interesting, of course. But what I find more intriguing is how she was kept still the entire time. We need to check her wrists for any signs of chafing. Check her ankles. 

[He tapped his forefingers a few times, eyes glittering.]

We will need to do a salivary and blood check. 

[Leaping from his chair, he looped his scarf around his neck, then sidled his coat on]

Lead me there. This murderer is an artist, in of himself.

Himself? How can you be sure the murderer is a man?

[Aurora asked, as she gathered the files, threw her coat on, and began on her way out of the flat. She walked down the streets, taking Holmes’s other suggestions into mind, leading him to the crime scene, the tape still blocking it off.]

I’m not sure if it’s a man or not. I do not have all of the information. I only say it as a replacement, and because it is statistically more likely. And I hear your bias

[he eyed her neck critically again]

in respect to your situation. However, I am glad you pointed the possibility out, however personal it may be.

[Rolling the thoughts in his head, he wanted to know if there was sedative involved. If so, the victim would not have been fully aware of the pain that was being inflicted upon her. He could double-check by drawing blood, by taking saliva, maybe even a hair sample. He wanted to know if there was rope or perhaps handcuffs, if sedative wasn’t the case. He needed to know what the cuts specifically looked like. Small incisions? Done in chunks? The types of bandages used, what the position of the body looked like, and the surroundings. It was always about the details, right down to whether or not the girl was able to drop blood on her pant leg or not.]

I sincerely hope that Lestrade has not moved anything. Messing up data, much like the people he leads in his division…

[He eyed a group of police nearby. As they arrived on the scene, a flint of a smile twitched his lips, his eyes already scavenging.]

[She ignored the police tape, walking underneath of it, leading Holmes to the scene, until one of the police from nearby came over, confused look on the older officer’s face.]

“Excuse me, miss, this is a crime scene, you are not allowed past that tape, see? Plus, it wouldn’t do for a little lady like yourself to see such a gruesome sight.” [he said, as he approached Aurora. She was almost furious with this ignorant little man and his wrongful, sexist assumptions.]

Excuse me? I am no “little lady”. I am working in correspondence with Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade. I have been given access to the case files, see? [She briefly waves the files in front of the officer’s face.] Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go and look at the actual crime scene, so that I can help you and your little team find this killer.

[She went to continue walking past the man when he stopped her, once again.]

“Now, miss, you can’t just go walking into our crime scene—”