((This can be read as a sequel to What have we become, but can also stand on its own. We hope you enjoy it.))

Chapter 1

Sherlock walked the perimeter of the crime scene, searching for any kind of clues that the local law-enforcement had not yet trampled into the dirt or in any other way ruined through incompetence or sheer stupidity. When he was satisfied that there was nothing more to learn, he strode over to John, who was kneeling by the body. "Okay," he said. "What have we got?"

John frowned. Since he had met Sherlock, he had seen many a strange crime scene, but nothing ever matched this. There was a body, yes. So far so good. What was missing, was its head.

The body was found near a narrow path of trampled dirt in the woods, very close to where they gave out on the university campus. There was no blood, not even a wound. The young woman's head had just been cleanly amputated. Apart from that, she would have been perfectly healthy.

"Right, yes," John said, shaking himself so he didn't keep staring at the place where her head had been. "Uhm, female, early twenties. Possibly a student here. Someone made the effort of cutting or chopping her head off, rather forcefully if you look at how little the skin is frayed and how smooth the skin could be stretched over her neck. Yet they made sure that there was enough skin left on one side to do this. It's exactly like an amputation. Jesus. They stitched the wound professionally. Okay, and then they cleaned up all the blood, even though there must have been a lot and I don't get how they got the earth clean. There are no signs of digging the top layer off or anything, so it's practically impossible. Even the leaves don't seem to show a trace of it. So probably they moved the body after the… decapitation. And then they left her here." He took a deep breath and looked up at Sherlock.

Sherlock glanced at the body and raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," he said. Then he turned and circled the body, studying the ground. "Yes, it was definitely moved here after the amputation." He looked around and spotted the roof of one of the old university buildings through the trees. "From over there..." He looked down at John. "Are you done here?"

John nodded. "Absolutely. It's the most unnerving corpse I've ever seen."

"Good. Then let them at it." Sherlock indicated the waiting forensics team. "And let's go have a look at the facilities." He strode off towards campus.

John followed. "Any ideas?"

Sherlock nodded. "Too many."

"I actually have no idea at all who would do something like that, and why," John admitted.

"Someone with the skills and knowledge to perform that kind of surgery, obviously."

"Yes, but why? It's... absurd." John shook his head.

Sherlock nodded as he exited the woods and strode over the lawn to the main building. "We need a list of all students and professors who have the required skill set, and of course we'll need to look at operating theatres and any other locations where the amputation itself could have been performed." He suddenly stopped and looked at John. "I never thought I should say this," he admitted with a crooked smile. "But you know a lot more about these kind of things than I do."

John chuckled, despite the uncomfortable feeling the corpse had brought to his stomach. Somehow Sherlock always managed to do this, and however inappropriate, giggling on a crime scene with his boyfriend didn't cease to make him feel good. "I do," he smirked.

Sherlock reached for his hand and gave it a small squeeze. "By all means," he said nodding towards the front doors. "Do your thing."

…

With some friendly words to the small university's reception staff, John easily acquired the list of medical students and professors competent in the right subjects - or at least those who were officially expected to be so. They showed them around in the operating theatres used for training, but clean and disinfected as they were, any of them could have been the place of the murder.

Sherlock merely glanced sceptically around the last room they were led into. "No," he stated. "None of these were the scene."
He withdrew to think for a moment, but was startled, and more than a little annoyed, when John's mobile rang.

John gave him an apologetic look as he picked it up, but soon his expression changed as it turned out he could give Sherlock more data. "They have identified the corpse, even though the head is still missing. Her name was Chiara Stevenson," he said quietly, so that only Sherlock could hear the new information.

Sherlock perked up immediately. "And?" he said, smiling eagerly at John.

"She is indeed a student here. Medicine, fourth year. She lived in one of the dorms, in block E1," John answered, repeating everything they had told him on the phone.

"Let's go then," Sherlock said, turning and heading for the door.

...

The dorm corridors smelled a little and looked very unhygienic after the sparkling cleanness of the rooms they came from. A girl was sitting at the kitchen table with a book, and she frowned as she looked up and saw the two men come in, but immediately seemed to give a mental shrug. "It's the lamp over there," she pointed, before looking back at the book.

Sherlock strode over and looked down at her. "What can you tell me about Chiara Stevenson?" he demanded.

"Chiara? She lives in room 23, but I think she's not there. Haven't heard her since the day before yesterday. Probably gone home. She'll be back tomorrow if you need her. Why?" the girl asked.

John opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by Sherlock.

"Thank you," he snapped and whirled around heading down the hall, scanning the numbers on the doors. He stopped in front of 23, tried opening it and then, smiling, got out his lock-pick.

John stood a little closer to cover what Sherlock was doing, so students coming down the hall wouldn't be alarmed by seeing him pick the lock. He fondly watched him smile. "This case really is a dream for you, hmm? A body without head or clues, now the chance to pick a lock..."

"And the chance to see you in action too." Sherlock grinned as the lock clicked. He opened the door and looked around. The room was messy, but no more than could be expected. "Look for a journal," he said. "Phone, tablet, laptop. Anything that can give insight into how and with whom she was spending her time."

John opened a desk drawer. It just contained some papers and a stapler. Fortunately, the next one was a hit. "Found her tablet."

"Perfect." Sherlock snatched it out of John's hand and turned it on. "Locked..." He went over to the window and held it up so the light reflected off the surface. "Remember this," he said. "2, 6, 8 and 9."

"Two six eight nine, got it," John nodded. "Actually..." He opened the first drawer again and looked into it. "It think it's eighty-two sixty-nine."

Sherlock frowned at him. "Why?"

"Because there's a sticker inside this drawer with those numbers on. Didn't pay attention to it at first."

Sherlock beamed at him. "I love you," he said before focusing on the tablet.

John grinned and kissed his cheek before looking for other useful objects.

Sherlock checked the calendar and notes. "A few names here we should check," he said. "And why she didn't show for pharmacology on Tuesday. It was a couple of hours before she died."

"How do you know she skipped pharmacology?" John asked.

"No notes," he said. "Otherwise they're very consistent. Not very good though," he added as he flicked through the documents.

"Quite probably she was with the killer then," John mused. "Or perhaps the lesson had been cancelled, making her be in the wrong place at the wrong moment, where some psychopath was looking for a victim."

Sherlock nodded. "Find out if it was cancelled," he ordered. Then he looked up and smiled. "Please."

John chuckled. "Aye, sir." He left the room and walked back to the reception.

...

When Sherlock was done with the room, he tucked the tablet under his coat and went down to the lobby.

A few minutes later, John returned. "They did have the lesson on Tuesday," he said immediately when he was close enough to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded. "So we need to know why she didn't show and if she was with anyone. We need to talk to some of the other students."

"Where do we start?" John asked.

"She was in a study group." He retrieved the tablet and checked. "Let's begin with Sophie Carter... E2."

A tall, blonde girl opened the door. "Uhm, hi, how can I help you?" she asked, a little shy.

"Are you Sophie Carter?" John asked friendly.

She nodded.

Sherlock strode past her into the room and sat down on the only chair. "How well do you know Chiara Stevenson?" he asked.

She stared at him. "Uhm, who are you and why are you sitting in my room without invitation?"

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson," John said quickly. "We're helping the police with an investigation."

She frowned. "What did Chiara do?"

"Die," Sherlock said. "Were you friends?"

Sophie stared at him. "Die? Chiara's dead?" she asked, sounding hysterical.

John sighed but didn't even bother to give Sherlock a look. "I'm sorry, Sophie," he said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"How did it happen?"

"She was killed," John answered vaguely. "Listen, we really need to know more about her. To help us find who did it."

"Yes, yes, of course," she said shakily. "I, uhm, we weren't really friends. It's just such a shock. She always came to me for help, when there were things she didn't understand. And if you needed gossip, she was the one to turn to," she added after a little hesitation.

"Well, we can't do that now, can we?" Sherlock commented dryly. "Who were her friends?"

"Kelly Roberts," Sophie answered immediately. "And she was also often around Nathan Saw and his friends. Oh, and the last few days there was that new girl, what's-her-name."

John gave her an encouraging nod, but after a moment of thinking she shrugged. "I don't remember her name."

Sherlock nodded and got to his feet. "I'll talk to Kelly Roberts," he said to John, as he walked from the room. "You can find out about the new girl."

"Okay. Excuse me for a second, Sophie," John quickly said to the girl. He followed Sherlock and closed the door behind him, before running after him. "Sherlock! A moment." He took his arm and turned him to face him. "Try to use alittle more tact on Kelly, if she was Chiara's best friend?"

"Of course," Sherlock frowned at him. "I know how to be tactful when I need to."

"I know, just remember that you need to, now," John said, giving Sherlock a small smile to show that he wasn't angry. "Good luck." He turned around and went back to Sophie for more information on the new student.