(Alice’s POV: )

Sometime later, Kenny was primping in front of the mirror near the fireplace when Sherlock and I entered. John put down his teacup.

“That’ll be him.” John announced, setting down his teacup.

“What?” Kenny asked. Raoul shows us into the room. Sherlock had a large bag over his shoulder and I was carrying a long narrow case which was designed to hold a photographic tripod. We walked over to Kenny.

“Ah, Mr. Prince, isn’t it?” I asked, speaking much more happily than was necessary.

“Yes.” Kenny said, a bit surprised.

“Very good to meet you.” Sherlock said, with a bit of a gay tone. I smiled at him. He continued smiling at me but his eyes were glaring.

“Yes; thank you.” Kenny said, shaking our hands. Sherlock looked closely at the large man as he shook.

“So sorry to hear about...” I trailed off.

“Yes, yes, very kind.” Kenny said.

“Shall we, er...” John said from behind us. We walked over to the sofa, me putting the case down and Sherlock staring to rummage through his bag. Kenny turned back to the mirror and fiddles with his hair again.

“You were right. The bacteria got into her another way.” John whispered to us.

“Oh yes?” Sherlock asked, smirking.

“Yes.” John told him, very proud of himself, clearly.

“Right. We all set?” Kenny asked, turning toward them.

“Um, yes.” John answered, looking at Sherlock and I, who had taken cameras and flashguns out of Sherlock’s bag. John jerked his head towards Kenny.

“Can you...?” John asked. Kenny leaned one arm on the mantelpiece and posed. Sherlock and I walked over and we took countless photographs of him.

“Not too close. I’m raw from crying.” Kenny commanded. The cat meowed at Sherlock’s feet. I looked down.

“Oh, who’s this?” I asked, feigning fondness.

“Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess.” Kenny replied proudly.

“How nice! Was she Connie’s?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes.” Kenny said. John reached down towards the cat but Kenny beat him to it, and picked the cat up. “Little present from yours truly.” Kenny said. Frustrated, John straightened and looked at Sherlock and I.

“Sherlock? Uh, light reading?”  He asked.

“Oh, um...” I mumbled. Sherlock lifted a second flashgun, which he was holding in his other hand, and held it toward Kenny and firing it straight into his face, and signaled for me to do the same.

“Two point eight.” Sherlock announced, looking around the cameras at the squinting Kenny.

“bl**dy h*ll. What do you think you’re playing at?!” Kenny shouted, covering his eyes from the light. John immediately reached out and rubbed his fingers over one of the cat’s front paws. Sherlock and I kept firing the flashguns to keep Kenny’s eyes closed.

“Sorry.” I winced. John lifted his fingers away and sniffed them as we continued to fire the flashgun.

“You’re like Laurel and bloody Hardy, you two. What’s going on?” Kenny asked, still covering his eyes.

“Actually, I think we’ve got what we came for. Excuse us.” John said feeling quite satisfied with his chance to be clever and help significantly with a case.

“What?!” Kenny exclaimed.

“Alice. Sherlock.” John called.

“What?” we asked together. John grabbed the case from the sofa and was heading for the door.

“We’ve got deadlines.” He said. Sherlock and I followed after him, grabbing the cameras and equipment.

“But you’ve not taken anything!” Kenny called out after us. I smiled and we ignored him, hurrying out of the living room and let ourselves out the door. John chuckled delightedly as we walked down the drive and headed towards the main road.

“Yes! Ooh, yes!” John exclaimed happily, feeling proud still.

“You think it was the cat.” Sherlock said, smiling.

“It wasn’t the cat.” I finished, smiling, but out of pity.

“What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. It’s how they got the tetanus into her system. Its paws stink of disinfectant.” John argued, his smile faltering.

“Lovely idea.” Sherlock commented, still smiling.

“No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. It’s a new pet – bound to be a bit jumpy around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldn’t have...” John insisted.

“I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but it’s too random and too clever for the brother.” I said in an apologetic tone, putting a hand on the doctor’s shoulder. John chuckled again, looking mockingly at my hand on his shoulder.

“He murdered his sister for her money.” John said.

“Did he?” Sherlock asked, making John doubt himself. I felt much pity for John, knowing Sherlock was knocking a blow to his confidence.

“Didn’t he?" John asked, frowning.

“No. It was revenge.” I corrected sympathetically.

“Revenge? Who wanted revenge?” John asked.

“Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister’s jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign.” Sherlock began.

“Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. It’s all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle, so...” I began to finish.

“No, wait, wait. Wait a second.” John argued, stopping and turning around to face us. We stopped as well. “What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat’s claws?

“Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now. No, the cat doesn’t come into it.” Sherlock said. John pulled his jacket up to sniff at it as Sherlock looked toward the main road.“Raoul’s internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here.” He said, walking off. John sighed in exasperation and a touch of disappointment that he hadn’t solved the case for once. He glared at the detective’s back and walked beside me.

“And you know, it’s really quite irritating when you two take turns explaining things…” John said to me. I creased my eyebrows.

“What?” I asked, really not knowing what he was talking about.

 “You two. He says something to explain, and then you-you… finish his sentences. It’s disturbing.” He explained. I thought for a moment.

“We don’t really do that… do we?” I asked, frowning.

“Yes. You do.” He insisted, irritated. I laughed lightly so Sherlock wouldn’t hear.  John scowled at me. “It isn’t cute, if that’s what you’re thinking…” He said in a deep voice, sounding like he wanted to kill me.

“Alright, I’ll stop if I catch myself.” I chuckled. We caught up with Sherlock and he held the cab door for John and me.

(ONE HOUR TO GO, NIGHT TIME; NEW SCOTLAND YARD)

Sherlock and I walked into the main office brandishing a folder at Lestrade.

“Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince’s houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn’t tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince – it was botulinum toxin.” Sherlock announced, putting the folder on his desk. As Lestrade reached for it, Sherlock leaned closer to him.

“We’ve been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bomber’s repeated himself.” Sherlock said in a low voice. I stood a step behind the sociopath, my arms crossed and putting my weight on my left foot. Lestrade walked towards his office, Sherlock and I following. John came in behind Sherlock and me and stared at us in surprise.

“So how’d he do it?” Lestrade asked.

“Botox injection.” I replied, thinking back to the pinpricks in Connie’s forehead.

“Botox?” Lestrade asked again, turning from Sherlock to me. I looked at Sherlock.

“Can I have this one?” I asked. He shrugged and sat down in a chair and watched me. “Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. Sherlock’s contact at the Home Office gave us the complete records of Raoul’s internet purchases.” I pointed to the folder. “He’s been bulk ordering Botox for months.” I said. Nearby, John was staring at Sherlock and I. His expression was becoming angrier. I wasn’t sure why but I continued.

“Bi-" I was cut off.

“Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose.” Sherlock interrupted as soon as I began.

“You sure about this?” Lestrade worried, looking from me to Sherlock and round again.

“I’m sure.” Sherlock and I said at the same time.

“All right – my office.” Lestrade complied. He turned and walked towards his office. Sherlock and I started to follow but John stopped us. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he turned me around, causing Sherlock to stop.

“Hey. How long?” He demanded, looking both of us in the eyes in turn. I realized what he meant and my eyes widened. He nodded at me angrily.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“How long have you known?” John demanded, looking only at Sherlock now since I had given him an ashamed look.

“Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake.” Sherlock answered, looking at me and beginning to smile. He didn’t actually look at my face. He tried to walk towards Lestrade’s office again but John stopped him. I stayed in my spot, shifting my weight nervously.

“No, but Sherl… The hostage… the old woman. She’s been there all this time.” John said, gripping his fists closed and opening them again repetitively.

“I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don’t you see? We’re one up on him!” Sherlock announced, looking at John intensely. He went into Lestrade’s office. John pursed his lips in frustration. He turned to me and pointed angrily.

“You. You knew. You have influence on him. You explain how that was wrong. What he just said. You tell him.” He demanded.

“John, I-” I began. He cut me off.

“No. Alice, or whatever your name is, you knew, and you didn’t stop him. That’s what counts. You explain that to him.” He growled. He walked into the office. I stood, speechless at the anger of the small man.

“He wouldn’t have cared…” I mumbled like a defeated child. I followed him in. I sat down and crossed my arms angrily and guiltily. Sherlock gave me a confused glance but I shook my head no.

Shortly afterwards, Sherlock was sitting at Lestrade’s desk where a laptop has been opened to The Science of Deduction website. John and Lestrade were standing either side of him. I stood behind him, my hand on his back but only to not fall on him. Sherlock typed into the message box:

 “Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, Botox.”

He sent the message and the pink phone on the desk beside the computer rang almost instantly. He picked it up and answered.

“Hello?”

“Help me.” The old woman cried, terrified.

“Tell us where you are. Address.” Sherlock said clearly.

“He was so... His voice...” She continued.

“No, no, no, no. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing.” Sherlock instructed urgently.

“He sounded so ...soft.” She revealed. The phone line instantly went dead.

“Hello?” He asked, not receiving an answer. I took two steps away from Sherlock and leaned against the glass wall of Lestrade’s office, just looking sadly ahead into nothing. No one noticed my moving but Sherlock.

“Sherlock?” Lestrade asked, noticing the blank look on the detective’s face.

“What’s happened?” John demanded.  Slowly, staring ahead of himself, Sherlock lowered the phone from his ear. He bit his lip as Lestrade – realizing that something bad must have happened – straightened up and sighed. John braced a hand on the back of Sherlock’s chair. I slid down the wall, my hands covering my face. I leaned against the glass with my knees up and rubbed my face anxiously. John gave me a look. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I assumed it was accusing.

Whenever I watch that bit it always makes me sad! Anyway, more Alice in this chapter, and enjoy fun peoples! Please vote and comment, I take critisism well!