John had just knocked on the door of 221B when the Holmeses got out of their cab. He turned when he heard a slightly familiar voice greet him and immediately caught sight of Sherlock and the girl who had been with him at Bart's. The girl eyed him with interest until she noticed him staring at her. She gave him a smile then but didn't walk over until Sherlock had finished paying the cabbie and was approaching John. Since John didn't know the girl yet he decided to greet Sherlock first. "Ah, Mister Holmes." He said, offering his hand.

"Sherlock, please." Sherlock replied, taking the doctor's hand and shaking it. John nodded once as he pulled his hand back, glancing over at the girl as he did. Sherlock noticed and immediately introduced her. "Doctor Watson, this is my daughter Jacqueline." He said politely, gesturing somewhat to his daughter who gave a pleasant smile to Doctor Watson.

John was surprised to say the least. He had thought that maybe she was Sherlock's sister since Sherlock couldn't possibly be out of his early thirties but apparently he was wrong. John guessed the girl's age and did the math quickly in his head. He realized Sherlock must have had her when he was still a teen. "Nice to meet you Miss Holmes." John said a few seconds later, deciding not to judge Sherlock and simply be polite.

"Please to meet you as well Doctor Watson. You may call me Jacqueline if you like." Jacqueline said politely.

John nodded and looked up at 221B. "Well this is a prime spot." He commented. He looked down the street at the people walking around. "Must be expensive." He tried not to sound too put off as he said that. His army pension would just barely cover his half of the rent; he wouldn't have enough money for anything else.

"Oh Missus Hudson, the landlady, she's giving me a special deal." Sherlock said, deftly assuring the soldier that he would be able to afford more than just the rent. John nodded, relieved. "Owes me a favor. A few years back her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help her out." He said, his eyes drifting to look down the street as he spoke. Jacqueline entertained herself while he spoke by watching John, judging his reactions to her dad's words and smiling when she realized he was at least mildly intrigued.

"Sorry, you stopped her husband from being executed?" John asked curiously.

"Oh no I ensured it." Sherlock said, giving John a small fake smile.

Jacqueline had to keep herself from laughing at the surprise and slight confusion that appeared on John's face. Especially when he glanced over at her. She distracted herself from him by looking towards Missus Hudson who had just opened up the door. "Sherlock." Missus Hudson said, smiling. She opened her arms and Sherlock instantly hugged her. Jacqueline smiled at the affectionate exchange; it was an extraordinary thing when her dad had formed a caring relationship with the sweet older woman. It wasn't much of a surprise though, she was the only person who didn't seem to mind Sherlock's experiments or his personality or his attitude. "Jacqueline, you sweet thing." Missus Hudson said once she was done hugging Sherlock and had caught sight of his daughter. Jacqueline grinned at her and instantly walked over to receive a hug from their landlady.

"Missus Hudson, Doctor John Watson." Sherlock said once his daughter and Missus Hudson had broken apart.

John and Missus Hudson exchanged quick pleasantries before all of them walked inside. Sherlock and Jacqueline hurried up the stairs with ease, both of them able to take two stairs at a time if they wanted but choosing not to for once. John was slower than the rest of them with his cane and Jacqueline took advantage of his slowed pace by running upstairs to her room to get changed. She undressed, leaving a pile of clothes on the ground, and redressed in record time, pulling on an outfit much better suited for her. Jeans that fit perfectly, a blue button up top, and a pair of flats she'd discovered were both comfortable and easy to run in. Jacqueline kept her hair down but slipped a scrunchie into her pocket in case she wanted to pull it back later. Once she looked more like her normal self she grabbed her coat and scarf and hurried back downstairs, catching the tail end of a conversation she wished she hadn't missed.

"There's another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing another bedroom." Missus Hudson said. Jacqueline tried her hardest not to laugh as she walked into the room.

"Of course we'll be needing it." John said, sounding mildly offended but also a tad confused.

Jacqueline smiled as she hung up her coat and scarf by the door, knowing Missus Hudson was simply too sweet to guess that she had completely misinterpreted John and her dad's relationship. "Oh don't worry, there's all sorts around here. Missus Turner next door's got married ones." Missus Hudson said, obviously thinking she was assuring the doctor.

John looked towards Sherlock, obviously expecting him to correct Missus Hudson, but he didn't seem to notice seeing as he was still trying to straighten things up a little. Jacqueline thought it was funny so she didn't say anything, simply started helping her dad organize things a bit though she didn't know why he was. She figured though that John had said something or other, more than likely by accident, on how messy the flat was. Missus Hudson headed into the kitchen without another word to John. The only thing she said was "Oh you two! Look at the mess you've made already!" Jacqueline and Sherlock exchanged briefs small smiles at her words. They'd been doing an experiment just the day before involving chemistry and had yet to clean up.

A few seconds later John sat down in one of their chairs, groaning slightly as he did. Jacqueline glanced at him briefly before sorting away a few of their books onto the already fairly crowded bookshelf. "I looked you up on the internet last night." John said, his words obviously directed at Sherlock.

Sherlock turned to give John his attention and Jacqueline listened in as she continued to pick things up. "Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked. There was the distinct sound of Missus Hudson cleaning up in the kitchen. Jacqueline worried that she'd get hurt trying to clean up the chemicals they had in there but remembered quickly that Missus Hudson knew better than to mess with one of their experiments without proper instruction.

"I found your website. The Science of Deduction." John said.

Jacqueline smiled, remembering her dad telling her what he had decided to call his website. "What did you think?" Sherlock asked.

Jacqueline turned in time to see John give her dad a look that quite obviously said "you've got to be kidding me." She glanced over at her dad and saw him frown with disappointment and possible hurt. She knew he was proud of his website and didn't like something he was proud of being insulted. Jacqueline almost smirked, she knew that from experience. A teacher had once called Jacqueline a brat in front of Sherlock and he'd been absolutely furious. "You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb." John said, clearly disbelieving her dad.

"Yes and I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone." Sherlock replied immediately.

"How?" John asked. Jacqueline thought she heard a note of curiosity in his voice.

Sherlock didn't reply, just smiled ever so slightly. He turned towards his laptop, which he had opened and turned on at one point or another, as Missus Hudson walked into the room, a newspaper in her hands. "What about these serial suicides then Sherlock? I thought that would be right up your street." As Missus Hudson spoke there was a sound outside that made the Holmeses look towards the window. They both started walking towards the same one. "Three exactly the same." Missus Hudson commented.

"Four." Sherlock said when he got a clear view of the street outside. Jacqueline was closer to the window than him so she didn't just see the police car, she saw Detective Inspector Lestrade get out and come towards the door. "There's been a forth. And there's something different this time." As Missus Hudson expressed her surprise Sherlock and Jacqueline turned to face the stairs. Lestrade came hurrying up them, taking two steps at a time in his urgency. "Where?" Sherlock asked, needing no explanation for why a breathless Lestrade was in the flat.

"Brixton. Lauriston Gardens." Lestrade answered immediately, walking deeper into the flat as he did. Jacqueline pulled up the mental map of London she had tucked carefully into her head and located Brixton. It wasn't horribly far, a quick cab ride away really.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get us if there wasn't something different." Sherlock asked, pressing for as much information as possible before they got to the crime scene.

"You know how they never leave notes?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock and Jacqueline replied at the same time with simple yeahs. "This one did." Jacqueline bit her lip, excitement coursing through her. She'd been monitoring the suicides with her dad and now they were finally being called in! Jacqueline felt like a kid on Christmas. "Will you come?" Lestrade asked. Jacqueline nearly rolled her eyes at him, of course they would come.

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked. A very important question seeing as most of Scotland Yard hated them.

"Anderson." Lestrade answered.

Jacqueline immediately let out a groan of distaste. She couldn't stand that insufferable man. He thought he was better than her dad, which he most certainly wasn't, and he constantly insulted both her dad and her. Sherlock had come close to punching the man more than once because of that. "Anderson won't work with me." Sherlock pointed out.

"Well he won't be your assistant." Lestrade said, already sounding tired of the conversation.

"I need an assistant." Sherlock said firmly.

"You've got Jacqueline!" Lestrade pointed out, gesturing to the girl genius beside her dad.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes and so did Sherlock. "Lestrade, how many times must we remind your own rule?" She asked in exasperation. Lestrade sighed, a bit annoyed by her. "You have stated that, legally, I am not allowed to touch the bodies so I cannot properly assist my dad. And, as you have pointed out, the only reason I'm allowed to be at crime scenes is because I am a prodigy, a student in training for a job." Jacqueline pointed out.

Lestrade stared at her for a moment, probably trying to think up a rebuttal. When he couldn't think of one he looked back at Sherlock. "Will you come?" The Detective Inspector asked again.

"Not in the police car. We'll be right behind." Sherlock answered.

"Thank you." Lestrade said. He glanced over at Missus Hudson and John before hurrying out of the flat.

Sherlock and Jacqueline waited till Lestrade was outside once more before reacting properly. Sherlock jumped, spinning in midair with his fists raised, and shouted "Brilliant!" Jacqueline let out a much simpler "Yes!" as she jumped into the air, punching the air in front of her excitedly and almost hitting her dad by accident. Jacqueline leapt up onto the sofa, grinning like mad, and jumped over the coffee table as her dad continued exclaiming in his excitement. She laughed in anticipation as she grabbed her coat and scarf. "Four serial suicides and now a note! Oh it's Christmas!" Sherlock said as he spun towards his coat and scarf.

"Oh so much better!" Jacqueline said as she pulled on her coat.

Sherlock sent his daughter a grin before turning to their landlady. "Missus Hudson, we'll be late. Might need some food. Today's Jacqueline's eating day." He told the woman as he walked past her into the kitchen, pulling on his coat as he did.

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." Missus Hudson said, not even a little bit surprised by how excited they were. Jacqueline laughed as she tied her scarf around her neck.

"Something cold will do." Sherlock said, ignoring her. He knew she'd prepare them something despite what she said. "John, have a cup of tea. Make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" He said as he put on his scarf and grabbed a pair of his gloves lying on the table. He exited through the kitchen door just as Jacqueline hurried out the main entrance to their flat.

Jacqueline and Sherlock were halfway down the steps when they heard a loud angry exclamation of "damn my leg" from Doctor Watson. They both froze, their minds whirring. It didn't take long for them to reach the same thoughts. John was, obviously, missing the war. Sherlock was in need of an assistant. John would fill that position perfectly. They exchanged looks, knowing the other's thoughts. They didn't have to say a word to each other before they simultaneously turned and walked back up the stairs. John had just picked up a newspaper when they peeked back into their flat.

"You're a doctor." Sherlock said, starling John who instantly looked over at them. "In fact, you're an army doctor." Sherlock said as he pulled on one of his gloves. Jacqueline, as she watched John, searched her pocket for a pair of gloves. She found them and started to put them on.

"Yes." John replied as he got up. Jacqueline noted the use of his cane and wondered if they would somehow be able to fix the doctor's imaginary leg pain.

"Any good?" Sherlock asked as Jacqueline pulled on her other glove.

"Very good." John said. He didn't sound proud exactly but there was a bit of a defensive tone to his voice that suggested that he was proud of his abilities.

"Seen a lot of injuries then? Violent deaths?" Sherlock asked as he walked into the room. Jacqueline stayed by the door and observed them. John didn't trust them yet, his stance was guarded and his expression was somewhere between blank and cautious. That wasn't surprising though. They hadn't even known the man for a day. John replied with a simple yes. "Bit of trouble too, I bet." Sherlock mused.

"Of course, yes." John responded, nodding slightly. "Enough for a lifetime. Far too much." There was a distinct lack of the despairing or angry tone of a soldier sick and tired of death. Jacqueline fought back a grin. John was saying what everyone expected him to say. He didn't believe his own words.

Sherlock heard the lack of a tone just as his daughter did and easily came to the same conclusion as she did. "Want to see some more?" He asked.

"Oh God, yes." John replied immediately, sounding absolutely sincere in every way. Without another word, Sherlock turned and started walking out of the flat. John followed immediately, obviously eager to get to their destination. Jacqueline grinned as she hurried down the stairs ahead of her dad, taking them two at a time in her absolute excitement to reach the crime scene. "Sorry Missus Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out." John called out to their landlady as they made their way downstairs.

"All three of you?" Missus Hudson asked in surprise.

Jacqueline had already reached the door and Sherlock was almost there but both of them turned when Missus Hudson spoke. "Impossible suicides? Four of them?" Sherlock said, walking back towards Missus Hudson. Jacqueline watched him go with a delighted grin on her face. "There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" Sherlock pressed a kiss to Missus Hudson cheek and Jacqueline's grin grew wider. Missus Hudson tried so very hard not to smile.

"Look at you two, all happy. It's not decent." Missus Hudson said. Her tone held no heat and she actually seemed to be looking at them affectionately. She hit Sherlock lightly on the arm. "Go on." She said, barely loud enough to be heard. Jacqueline grinned even more as her dad turned away from their landlady.

"Who cares about decent?" Sherlock asked as he walked towards the door. Jacqueline opened it and stepped into the London air as her dad and John Watson drew closer. "The game, Missus Hudson, is on!" Sherlock stated enthusiastically.

Sherlock hailed them a taxi the second he was outside. Jacqueline took the front seat beside the driver as she was used to when they had company along with them. John watched her, mildly confused. Most teenagers would be against sitting up front with cabbies. He didn't question it though, not wanting to offend the girl or Sherlock, and got into the cab. Soon they were on their way to the crime scene, their cabbie being a rather good one who knew what roads to take to avoid traffic. Jacqueline entertained herself for a moment by observing him before pulling out her phone and doing a quick search through news sights to refresh her knowledge of the suicides. Eventually she heard her dad and John talking in the back and listened in. Sherlock noticed but didn't say anything as he explained his deductions to John. Jacqueline kept her head inclined in a way that hid her smile when she heard John compliment her dad instead of telling him off. Maybe they actually could keep this flatmate. He was already in their good books after all.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked once they were out of the cab and walking towards the crime scene. Jacqueline had gone ahead and paid for them, using money she had nicked from someone's, specifically someone who had annoyed her, pocket.

John paused for a moment, probably debating whether to answer. He finally did and when he did Jacqueline smiled. "Harry and I don't get on. Never have." John confirmed as they walked. "Clara and Harry split up three months ago. They're getting a divorce." John paused again. "Harry is a drinker." Jacqueline nodded, the doctor definitely did not approve of the drinking. Good, it would not be good for their new flatmate to be a drunk.

"Spot on then. I didn't expect to be right about everything." Sherlock said. Only Jacqueline heard the bit of pride in his voice.

"Harry's short for Harriett."

Sherlock stopped and so did Jacqueline. They were both stunned, they'd missed something! "Harry's your sister." Sherlock stated. Perfectly logical of course for them to have missed it, really. Harry was not a common nickname among Harrietts and it definitely wasn't common for that nickname to be used in place of the actual name to the point of engravement. John said something but the Holmeses ignored it. Sherlock looked down at Jacqueline and gave her a dissatisfied look that she completely understood. She almost smiled at it but knew better than to do so. "Sister!" Sherlock hissed as he started walking again. Jacqueline caught up with him and John easily, her long legs matching Sherlock's long strides. "There's always something." Sherlock said, completely ignoring whatever the army doctor was saying.

"Hello Freak." Sergeant Donovan called out as she walked towards them. "Hello Freak Junior." She added when she spotted Jacqueline. The younger Holmes immediately started deducing little bits about her in the hopes of angering the woman later. Donovan's knees would definitely be coming up later. It was just a matter of who would say something first, Sherlock or Jacqueline.

"We're here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock stated. With that greeting he didn't think the woman was worthy of any type of greeting.

"Why?" Donovan asked. Like an annoying twit.

Sherlock glanced at Jacqueline and they shared exasperated looks that were only displayed through their eyes. He then turned back to Donovan. "We were invited." Sherlock explained.

"Why?" Donovan questioned again.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes as her dad sarcastically replied "I think he wants us to take a look."

"Well you know what I think don't you." Sergeant Donovan said a bit snappishly. She had this disgusted look on her face, like Sherlock and Jacqueline were an unknown substance on the bottom of her shoe.

"Always do, Sally." Sherlock replied as he ducked under the police tape. Jacqueline followed after him and they both took a deep breath through their noses once they were on the other side. It was almost instinctual for them to breath in the scent of a fresh crime scene. They both wrinkled their noses when they caught the scent of men's deodorant coming off of Sally. "I even know you didn't make it home last night." Sherlock added, deducing quickly by the smell and Sally's knees that she had stayed the night at a man's place.

Jacqueline fought back a smile at the look that appeared on the woman's face. Sally opened her mouth, possibly to defend herself, but her words changed as she noticed John stepping forward to go under the police tape. "Who's this?" The sergeant asked.

"Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson." Sherlock explained. His head turned to look at the doctor. "Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan." He said, introducing the two. "Old friend." Sherlock tacked on sarcastically.

"A colleague. How do you get a colleague? Is he one of Jacqueline's teachers or something?" Donovan asked incredulously. She turned to John. "What, did he follow you home?" She questioned him.

John chose not to answer that. "Would it be better if I just waited-?" He asked.

"Nope." Sherlock replied, cutting off the ending of John's question. He lifted up the crime scene tape as he spoke, giving the doctor an entrance into the crime scene. With a quick glance over at Sally, John followed the Holmeses in.

Sally started walking towards the actual crime scene, speaking into her radio as she did. "The freaks are here. I'm bringing them in." She stated. Jacqueline was used to Sally's insults towards them but she still felt at least a mild amount of annoyance. She wanted to childishly stick her tongue out at the woman but she didn't, knowing it would diminish the professional façade she had on.

The Holmeses and John followed after Donovan, the latter focusing on what was in front of them while the former two focused on a million different things at once. They turned from where they were looking in opposite directions and noticed a certain idiot walking towards them. Jacqueline let out an annoyed sigh while Sherlock said, just as annoyed, "Ah Anderson, here we are again."

Anderson gave Sherlock a look of distaste, an expression that did not fall for even a second when he glanced over at Jacqueline. The younger Holmes wasn't bothered by the distaste of the adults though. Ever since she'd started acting like Sherlock back when she was a child they'd treated her like this. They blamed Sherlock for how she turned out but that didn't mean they were going to treat her any better because of that.

"It's a crime scene and I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" Anderson asked in his extremely annoying voice. Jacqueline entertained herself with a brief musing over which animal Anderson was more like: a rat or a weasel? She sniffed, a thought having occurred to her, and smelt the same deodorant Donovan was wearing coming from Anderson.

"Quite clear." Sherlock replied. Jacqueline didn't like how closely Anderson was standing to her dad. It was far enough to not appear threatening but it was close enough to be a little less than civil. The way the man held himself too also annoyed her. Like he was challenging Sherlock or trying to appear more intimidating. Jacqueline knew it was mostly a testosterone thing, a want to be the alpha male among the crime scene, but it still annoyed her. Most things involving testosterone did. "And is your wife away for long?" Sherlock asked after a beat.

"Oh don't pretend you worked that out! Somebody told you that." Anderson told him angrily.

"Your deodorant told me that." Sherlock explained.

Confusion appeared on Anderson's face. "My deodorant?" He asked, confused and incredulous.

"It's for men." Sherlock said in a mostly mocking way.

"Well of course it's for men!" Anderson said, his face scrunching up. Jacqueline decided he was definitely more of a rat than a weasel. "I'm wearing it!"

"So's Sergeant Donovan." Sherlock stated. Anderson turned around to look at Sally and Sherlock sniffed the air pointedly. "Oh and I think it just vaporized. May I go in?" He asked, looking towards Donovan.

Anderson turned back to Sherlock quickly. "Now look. Whatever you're trying to imply-."

"I'm not implying anything! I'm sure Sally came over for a nice little chat and just happened to stay over!" Sherlock said as he strolled towards the open door leading towards the crime scene. Jacqueline followed after him immediately but stopped when he turned around to face Donovan and Anderson. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees." Sherlock smiled mockingly at Anderson before going inside. Jacqueline couldn't resist giving them a falsely sweet smile before doing the same, John following just a few seconds after her. "You need to wear one of these." Sherlock told John once they had reached the room currently being dedicated to equipment. Lestrade was already there, pulling on a coverall.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked, eyeing John for a moment before turning to look at Sherlock.

"He's with me." Sherlock replied as he pulled off his gloves. Jacqueline removed hers as well and shoved them into her pocket.

"But who is he?" Lestrade asked again, obviously wanting a more detailed answer.

Of course Lestrade wasn't going to get a better answer. "I said he's with me." Sherlock stated firmly. That sentence ended the conversation completely, lucky thing for everyone really. Sherlock and Lestrade rarely argued but when they did it was usually not very good. For anyone. Sherlock pushed aside a box of latex gloves and grabbed two pairs from a box of vinyl ones. He handed one of the pairs to Jacqueline who was, rather ironically, allergic to latex.

"Aren't you two going to put one on?" John asked the Holmeses, referring to the coveralls. Sherlock and Jacqueline looked at him but gave him no answer, their way of saying "no, shut up, you're an idiot." John shook his head and looked down at the coverall in his hands.

"So where are we?" Sherlock asked as he pulled on his gloves.

"Upstairs." Lestrade answered as he grabbed a pair of vinyl gloves. He knew about Jacqueline's allergies and was kind enough not to do anything that would risk her having an allergic reaction. He gave the younger Holmes a small smile in greeting as he pulled his gloves on. Jacqueline simply nodded in reply before starting to impatiently drum her fingers on the side of her leg. She continued to drum her fingers till John was in coveralls and they were walking up the stairs. "I can give you two minutes." Lestrade told them as they walked up.

Sherlock's eyes were locked onto the stairs above them. "May need longer." He said casually, barely paying attention to his own words. Jacqueline, who was right behind him, barely heard him as she tried to picture the death they were about to see.

Lestrade didn't argue with Sherlock. Smart, he wouldn't have won anyways. "Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards." Lestrade said, giving them the information he thought they needed. In this case the deceased's name didn't matter. The victims of the serial suicides so far had been unimportant citizens of London with absolutely no connections which meant whoever's body was lying upstairs had been picked randomly. "We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her." Lestrade sounded extremely disapproving of that last fact.

It didn't take them long to reach the body. The second Jacqueline was in the room she did a once over of what she could see from by the door. The room was unimportant but the body was everything. Jacqueline disliked the alarming shade of pink the woman was wearing but it helped her decide the woman's profession. Something in the media since only the media found an outfit that atrocious appropriate. Jacqueline could see the woman's legs clearly from where she stood and noticed immediately the splash marks that meant she was dragging along a small suitcase intended for one night's stay. Jacqueline couldn't quite make out what was carved into the floor but it appeared that the victim was left handed.

"Shut up." Sherlock suddenly said, looking towards Lestrade.

Lestrade looked surprised and then confused. "I didn't say anything." He said.

"You were thinking. It's annoying." Sherlock stated before turning his attention back onto the body. Jacqueline looked pleadingly towards her dad, wanting nothing more than to go ahead and rush over to the body and start working. Sherlock gave her a small nod and she did just that, walking around to the front of the body as he dad slowly approached the body's side.

The woman was definitely left handed and never worked with her hands seeing as her nails were perfectly manicured. The word "Rache" was carved into the floor, mostly her left pointer finger's fault. Jacqueline quickly went through the German she knew. Rache meant revenge. But no, that didn't fit. Jacqueline started quickly tacking on letters at the end of the word and came up with Rachel. It was common for people to think of loved ones during their final moments, wasn't it? Rachel was a good deduction for this situation.

Sherlock knelt down beside the body and Jacqueline copied him. He ran his hand over the back of the woman's coat and pulled his hand away. Jacqueline observed that it was wet. Her fingers itched to rush ahead of him, to do the next step before he could, but she wasn't allowed to touch the bodies at crime scenes unless she was given permission by Lestrade. He rarely gave it though seeing as he was already risking contamination allowing Sherlock to mess with things.

Jacqueline watched as her dad pulled an umbrella out of the woman's pocket. It was dry. A swipe of his hand beneath the collar of her coat revealed that her collar was wet. She'd been in heavy rain a few hours before her death with wind too strong for an umbrella. She was from a decent distance away….where had there been heavy rain fall and strong wind in the past few hours? Jacqueline wanted to look it up on her phone but knew her dad would the second he'd discovered everything he could. She didn't want to miss a thing so she returned to watching him. He had pulled out his magnifier and was examining the bracelet on her left hand. It was clean. So were her earrings and her necklace. Her wedding ring though was dirty, an unhappy marriage then. An unhappy marriage for at least ten years going by the age of the ring.

Sherlock slipped the wedding ring off of the woman's finger and held it up so he could see the inside. He held it out for Jacqueline to take. The girl glanced at Lestrade who nodded before taking the ring. The inside was clean. Very clean. Removed frequently then because that was the only way the ring would get any type of polishing. Jacqueline handed the ring back to her dad. The woman was a serial adulterer. The Homeses both smiled as their deductions came to an end.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked.

"Not much." Sherlock commented as he stood up, removing his gloves. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. While he did Jacqueline stared down at the dead woman as she thought of the many different people Rachel could be.

"She's German." Anderson said. Jacqueline's eyes snapped up to glare at him. He was leaning against the doorway in a way that seemed horribly arrogant. Jacqueline entertained the idea of punching Anderson in the face but knew it would result in Lestrade keeping her off crime scenes for a month. "Rache. It's the German word for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something." As Anderson spoke Sherlock walked across the room towards him, his eyes glued to his phone.

"Yes thank you for your input." Sherlock said as he shut the door in Anderson's face. Jacqueline smiled slightly; glad the man was no longer there to bother them.

Sherlock walked back towards the body, typing away at his phone. "So she's German." Lestrade said.

"Of course she's not." Sherlock affirmed as he pulled up weather maps. "She is from out of town though. Intended to stay for one night before returning home to Cardiff." He said before tucking his phone away. Jacqueline smiled again, she'd been right when she thought that the woman had come from just a few hours away. "So far so obvious."

"Sorry, obvious?" John asked, incredulous.

"But what about the message?" Lestrade asked, pointing towards the word scratched into the floor.

Sherlock ignored Detective Inspector Lestrade, as usual. "Doctor Watson what do you think?" He asked, staring intently at the doctor. Jacqueline glanced over at him and saw his fairly confused expression. He voiced some form of confusion, something about the message, but Sherlock quickly explained. "Of the body. You're a medical man."

"Hold on, no. We have a whole team right outside." Lestrade protested.

"They won't work with me." Sherlock responded immediately.

"I'm breaking every rule letting you in here." Lestrade pointed out. "And I'm doing it twice by letting Jacqueline in here with you."

"Yes," Sherlock said tersely, "because you need us."

Lestrade paused for a moment. He glanced over at Jacqueline then back at Sherlock, possibly debating whether to confirm or deny that statement. "Yes, I do." The detective inspector finally admitted. He usually did when he knew Sherlock or Jacqueline was right. He was one of those few people who wouldn't tell them off for being correct unless he thought they were being particularly rude. Lestrade looked down at the body. "God help me." He said to no one in particular.

"Doctor Watson." Sherlock said, gathering John's attention back to him. John realized what the man was silently asking and looked towards the detective inspector for permission.

"Oh do as he says. Help yourself." Lestrade sounded far from happy as he spoke.

Lestrade left the room and the remaining three in the room gathered around the body again. Jacqueline stood near the dead woman's head while her dad and John knelt on either side of her. Sherlock and John exchanged a quick unimportant conversation before John finally did as Sherlock wished and examined the body for signs of death. Lestrade came in just as John began his work and watched as John carefully examined the body. Jacqueline glanced at him briefly before paying attention to John's observations. They were simple, things the Holmeses had already figured out thanks to the news on the deaths. Neither one berated the doctor though, glad to have someone working with them that wasn't completely insufferable. Yet. Jacqueline hoped that Doctor Watson never proved to be as annoying as the regular populace. It would make having him as a flatmate very difficult.

"Sherlock, two minutes I said. I need anything you got." Lestrade said, interrupting the small conversation Sherlock and John were having.

"Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes. I'm guessing something in the media going by the frankly alarming shade of pink." Sherlock stood as he spoke and wandered over to Lestrade. Jacqueline followed after him at a leisurely pace, careful not to step on the word the woman had left unfinished as she died. "Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase." He said, pacing a bit as he did. He was looking about the room as he did; taking it all in for any more clues the police could have missed. Jacqueline was sure they had missed nothing. The place and victim was random and the killer was at least moderately smart, he wouldn't have left anything.

"Suitcase?" Lestrade questioned.

"Suitcase, yes." Sherlock confirmed. "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."

Lestrade looked at him, mildly annoyed and a bit stunned. "Oh for God's sake!" He exclaimed. "If you're just making this up-."

Sherlock pointed down at the woman's left hand, at the ring, as he walked backwards towards her. "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least." He knelt down beside the woman, almost stepping on the message she'd scratched out. "The rest of her jewelry has been regularly clean but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there." Lestrade lifted his eyebrow up at that and his annoyed expression sobered considerably. "The inside's shinier than the outside that means 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 rather who does she remove her ring for? Clearly not one lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time so more likely a string of them. Simple." Sherlock finished his explanation with that one condescending word. Jacqueline felt a bit of pride for her dad well up inside her. He was so bloody brilliant.

John Watson thought so too. "That's brilliant." He stated. Sherlock and Jacqueline looked over at him, masking their surprise well. John glanced over at Lestrade and gave him a simple apology.

"Cardiff?"Lestrade asked, pulling Sherlock's attention back to the matter at hand.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock asked. Jacqueline thought so but the others in the room did not. John even went so far as to voice that. Sherlock and Jacqueline looked at the two men, a bit amazed by how simple they were and a bit disappointed that once again they were the only ones who could figure anything out. "Dear God. What's it like in your funny little heads? It must be so boring." Sherlock said, looking almost in concern at Lestrade. As if the man could tell him if the two men were suffering from extreme boredom due to their simple minds. "Her coat." Sherlock stated before turning back to the body. "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." As he spoke Sherlock did small gestures with his hands. He usually moved his hands while he talked but it never failed to amuse Jacqueline. She did it too though so she tried not to show her amusement. "She's got an umbrella in her left hand pocket but it's dry and unused. So not just wind, strong wind. Too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance 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?" Sherlock pulled out his phone and clicked a button. He held it up for Lestrade to see, showing off the website he'd been on that had showed the weather map of South Britain. "Cardiff." Sherlock answered himself, showing John the phone.

"That's fantastic!" John exclaimed, a look of awed astonishment on his face.

Sherlock turned to look at John and so did Jacqueline. "Do you know you do that out loud?" Sherlock asked in a hushed tone.

John looked a bit abashed. "Sorry I'll shut up." He said apologetically, not meeting Sherlock's eyes.

"No it's fine." Sherlock said, not minding in the least. He rarely got praise anymore from anyone besides Jacqueline. It was surprising and, if Sherlock was being completely truthful, a nice change. Jacqueline was, once again, very glad they'd found John. He was turning out to be a rather bearable human being who would probably make a decent flatmate.

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked, cutting off the conversation. As he spoke Jacqueline did something very rare. She gave a small almost polite smile to John, her way of thanking him for being kind to her dad. He seemed surprised by it, especially when it disappeared the second she looked away from him.

"Yes, where is it?" Sherlock asked, spinning about the room in search of it. Jacqueline's brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced about the room herself, it wasn't there. But there had definitely been a suitcase. Jacqueline was very rarely wrong when it came to her deductions. "She must've had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is." Sherlock said, practically to himself.

"She was writing Rachel?" Lestrade asked.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes, something John caught sight of. He had yet to see an example of her own brand of outstanding brilliance but she was sure he would soon. She couldn't let him go about thinking it was only her dad who had the brains. "No, she was leaving an angry note in German." Sherlock replied sarcastically. "Of course she was writing Rachel! No other word it can be. Question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?" He said.

"So how do you know she had a suitcase?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock looked towards Jacqueline and noticed her fingers drumming against her thigh. She wanted to show off, make her own intelligence known. Sherlock knew that and wanted to let her explain to Lestrade how they knew about the suitcase but he knew he couldn't. Anything she said, due to her not so legal position at crime scenes, would not be able to hold up in court. Not always anyways. This one time though might not prove to cause any harm. If they caught the killer they'd have enough evidence that if Jacqueline's explanation of there being a suitcase was dropped from evidence it wouldn't matter. Sherlock gestured for her to go ahead and explain.

Jacqueline's eyes lit up with delight. "Back of the right leg." She began, pointing to the area she was talking about. "Tiny splash marks on the heel and calf. Neither of which is present on the left which means she was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. You can't get that splash pattern any other way." She gestured to the spots as she spoke just like her dad would. She did it subconsciously though, not even taking in her own actions as she explained. "Smallish case going by the spread. Case that size and woman this clothes conscious, it could only be an overnight bag. So we know she was staying one night." Jacqueline looked towards her dad when she was done, looking for approval. She almost missed the impressed look on John's face.

"Excellent deduction as always, Jacqueline. Didn't miss a thing." Sherlock said, his tone and expression giving away nothing. His eyes though and his general stance gave away that he was proud of his daughter. Jacqueline turned away so no one would see her beaming happily. "Now where is it? What have you done with it?" Sherlock asked the detective inspector.

"There wasn't a case." Lestrade told them.

The Holmeses looked at him simultaneously, their eyes sharp. They both frowned at him. That was not right. There was clear evidence of a case so there had to be one. Unless…Unless the killer took it. "Say that again." Sherlock ordered.

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase." Lestrade repeated.

Sherlock and Jacqueline were rushing out the door in seconds. Sherlock started shouting, asking if anyone had found a case just to make sure. Thoughts were racing through their heads as they started to make their way down the stairs. Someone had taken her suitcase! A woman like that wouldn't pack any valuable in an overnight bag so it wasn't a simple opportunity steal. Someone had been there! Someone had taken the case! That changed everything! That meant that the suicides weren't suicides! They were murders! Fantastic! Oh and the case couldn't have been taken on purpose, no! The killer wouldn't want to risk being accidentally tied to the suicides. So he'd driven the woman here and forgotten about it. Brilliant!

"Sherlock there's no case!" Lestrade shouted as he came walking towards them, his arms crossed over his chest.

"They take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves." Sherlock started bounding down the steps and Jacqueline followed after him, just as fast. "There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them." Sherlock said as they walked.

"Right, yeah, thanks." Lestrade responded sarcastically. "And?!" He practically shouted after them.

Sherlock and Jacqueline stopped on the landing, earning a few glances from the team around them. "It's murder. I don't know how but they're not suicides, they're killings. Serial killings." Sherlock told the detective inspector. Sherlock clapped his hands together excitedly and Jacqueline smiled in delight. "We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those! There's always something to look forward to!" Sherlock took off again as he spoke. Once more Jacqueline followed after him, her hands clasped together in anticipation.

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade questioned.

"Her case!" The Holmeses answered simultaneously. Jacqueline's cheek turned a bit rosy when Sherlock gave her a small look but other than that she looked unashamed. "Come on, where is her case?!" Sherlock continued, barely a second later. "Did she eat it?! Someone else was here and they took her case!" Sherlock stopped suddenly as something occurred to him. "The killer must have driven her here and forgot the case was in the car." Jacqueline was mildly surprised, she'd come up with that conclusion so much quicker than her dad did. She shook off her surprise quickly though. Her dad had been more distracted by the dullness of the other men than she had; it was understandable that his mind had been a bit slowed by it.

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there!" John suggested.

"No, she never got to the hotel! Look at her hair!" Sherlock said, gesturing to the room above. "She color coordinates her lipstick and her shoes! She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking like-." Sherlock suddenly stopped as he realized something. Jacqueline quickly ran through what he had said and realized something as well. The woman was very conscious about her appearance. She would have matched her suitcase to her outfit which meant the case would be pink. The killer was, statistically, more than likely a man. It would look odd for him to have a pink suitcase with him. He'd have to dispose of it. He'd realize his mistake quickly too, no more than five minutes, and he'd dump it as quickly as possible. Which meant crucial evidence was within five minutes of them and needed to be found. Quickly.

"What is it? What?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock clapped his hands together, his eyes shining in excitement. Jacqueline bounced on her toes impatiently. She wanted nothing more than to hurry ahead and search for the case but she couldn't without her dad. "Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake." Sherlock said.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade said, sounding disgusted with the idea.

"Oh we're done waiting!" Sherlock shouted at him. "Look at her! Really look! Houston, we have a mistake! Get on to Cardiff! Find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were! Find Rachel!" He shouted as they hurried down the stairs. They were almost to the door when they heard Lestrade shout out "But what mistake?!" Sherlock returned for just a second to shout one word back up at him. "Pink!" They were then racing out onto the London street. "Jacqueline, go east. Call if you find anything. Five minute radius!" Sherlock instructed his daughter before taking off towards west.

Jacqueline grinned as she booked it down the streets of London, doing the math in her head to decide where the five block radius started. She pulled up her map of London in her head and headed for the nearest street with a dumpster where a car could fit and not be spotted. It was beyond dangerous for her to be out and about all by herself but she didn't care. Nothing was more exciting than the possibility of getting killed!