An Improbable Man: the Scarlet Ribbon part 3

Joanne felt like she had a timer in her head. A timer that counted the amount of time that had gone by since she'd seen a dead body. Nearly 5 months and 11 days had gone by and it had been placid. But now the timer had been reset, because, here was another body lying at her feet.

What had always struck her most of all was how still they were. Motionless and cold. Their skin was chalky white and drained of life. They would never breath again and, in a small and strange way, to Joanne that hurt.

But she had to admit. In all her time serving in the army she'd never seen a dead body like this and with good reason.

In death, as in life, the woman that lay before Joanne had been tall and thin with locks of long ginger hair and beautiful eyes. Her legs were long and fair and she wore long, fake nails that were painted in red; matching her lipstick. She lay on her back and wore a worryingly short skirt, a skimpy black tank top and a pair of high heeled shoes. Her eyes  were open and empty and there was a bullet wound between them with blood splattered over her face.

The police officers, wearing that shiny uniforms and carrying their radios, moved apart as Sherlock approached the body. Joanne realised they all recognised him and their faces were smacked with surprise. Sherlock snapped his fingers and loudly proclaimed "Gloves!"

A police officer hurried over carrying a pair of plastic gloves and handed them to Sherlock before scuttling away.

Sherlock was moving towards the body when the loud clack of shoes echoed across the floor. The boots the police officers wore couldn’t register that kind of a noise against the concrete and within a second or two a man was stood before Sherlock and Joanne.

He was a man of about mid height with a build of somewhere between round and thin. He had short grey hair and stubble around his thick lips. The man had a square jaw and small ears with hazelnut eyes. He wore a grey, off-the-rack suit and a cheesy tie.

"I wondered when you'd turn up!" he smiled with a distinctly east London accent "Thought we'd lost you for good."

The man outstretched his gloved hand which Sherlock shook whilst saying "You know me Lestrade. You can't keep me away for long."

As Sherlock released the man, apparently called Lestrade, he motioned from him to Joanne.

"Dr Joanne Watson…" he smiled, pulling on his gloves, "Meet Detective Inspector Lestrade. He's the man that called me here."

Joanne briefly shook the DI's hand with a smile.

"No offence…" Lestrade began and Joanne could tell he was speaking directly to Sherlock despite the fact he was looking directly at her "But why is she here?"

Sherlock looked to Joanne and she nodded to him in the hope he'd get the message that it was up to him to tell Lestrade whatever it was he wanted; be it the truth or not.

"She's my assistant." Sherlock, hesitantly, replied "Who also provides her medical expertise… so that's great…"

Lestrade was fixed in a stare which alternated between Joanne and then Sherlock several times. It was some kind of staring stand off.

"Anyway…" Lestrade exclaimed abruptly "Sherlock, how about you take a look at the body."

"Thank you." Sherlock nodded and he cautiously approached the dead woman's body.

Sherlock knelt down beside the woman and began to slowly looking her up and down. His eyes narrowed and looked for what he needed.

Nails matching lipstick was a conscious choice.

Skirt incredibly short, used to attract men.

Tank top used to draw attention to the woman's breasts.

Style of gunshot wound suggests execution.

Sherlock took a good look at the woman's knee's.

Scuffed and grazed - Forced to kneel.

Execution seems more than likely.

Sherlock picked up the woman's left arm and manipulated it so that he could see her wrist. Seeing what he'd expected he checked the other wrist. It was the same result.

Rope marks around wrists, tied up.

Definitely executed.

"Was she a prostitute?" Sherlock asked, his voice low.

"We think so." Lestrade replied hesitantly.

"Wrong!" Sherlock exclaimed with a brief smile "She was."

Sherlock stood back up, pulling of his rubber gloves and stuffing them into his pockets.

"Shouldn't she have a handbag?" Sherlock asked, Lestrade rose his eyebrows, "If she was a prostitute she'd probably have some kind of bag or purse to put her payment in."

"There wasn't one with her." Lestrade replied "There wasn't any ID or mobile phone either. Just the body."

Sherlock sniffed the air briefly then looked around. After a moment or two he walked around to the other side of the body and looked at her right hand.

"She was right handed so she presumably carried her purse in her right hand." he proclaimed.

"How do you know… Never mind." Lestrade said "So what?"

"So the killer would have stood where I was standing now, picked up the purse and disposed of it." Sherlock explained. He looked around of ran moment and ran to the right edge of the car park, looking over the wall that stopped him falling over the edge. Joanne and Lestrade followed him over. They saw nothing but some bins in an alleyway.

"It's in the bin." Sherlock said. Lestrade looked over to the uniformed officers.

"Right we'll head down now…" Lestrade began.

"Geronimo!!" Sherlock exclaimed as he threw himself over the wall and fell downwards into the alleyway below. Joanne was convinced, for a least half a second, that Sherlock would break his legs or an arm at least but instead he landed on top of one of the bins perfectly intact. Sherlock dropped off the top of the bin and opened it; taking a look inside.

After a moment or two Sherlock shook his head and closed the bin before moving to another and opening it; taking a look inside of that one too. After a brief rummage through the bin Sherlock retrieved something from it and called "Got it!"

Joanne saw Sherlock waving a red, leather handbag around in his hand…

Several minutes later Sherlock had, with a little difficulty, climbed back up the side of the car park and had walked over to Joanne and Lestrade. With a gleeful smile he opened it, having pulled his gloves back on when he retrieved the back, and began to look inside. He pulled out a red lipstick, several notes of cash and a drivers license.

"Her names Dolores Bush." Sherlock said as he continued to rummage through the bag. A moment or two later he retrieved a scarlet ribbon.

"What's with the ribbon?" Joanne asked but she noticed that Sherlock's eye's had become fixed on the object. He was fixed in a glare with the ribbon and his skin had gone pale.

"It couldn't be…" Sherlock muttered.

"Couldn't be what?" Joanne asked.

"One other body has turned up in the last week; also a prostitute, also dead and, amazingly, also with a scarlet ribbon in her handbag!" Sherlock exclaimed "I have a horrible feeling that that same killer killed this young lady. Which begs the question…"

"How many other people is he going to kill?" Lestrade finished.

To be continued