We waited with Smith and Johnson till we were allowed to go home. The police station was boring and no one seemed to take us seriously. I don't blame them. Neither would I in this scenario. "Sherlock, John follow me," said Smith walking up to a huge whiteboard wheeled into the confidence room. "Um Smith can you call us by our real names," asked Phil shyly. "Oh, yes. Sorry habit," he said quickly before he flipped the whiteboard over. Phil and I were too shocked to speak. There were so many dead womens' pictures. "What monster would do this," I mumbled. "That's what we want to know. So the files are all in my office and we need you both to go through it," said Smith. Phil and I looked at each other and followed him to his office.

"This is going new to take years," said Phil gasping at the 3 boxes full of vanilla envelopes. "We've actually condensed a lot it," sighed Johnson. "Good luck boys," said Smith before they walked out and shut the door.

"How long do you think this will take," asked Phil lifting the first envelope. "Probably too long. Phil we need to catch them. We can't let anyone else get hurt," I sighed. "True. Let's do this," said Phil positively. "Alright," I assured.

I lost track of time in the office. Phil was holding his head up looking discouraged and my head was pounding trying to not only remember all the information but also look for clues. "I think we're done I got the last folder," I said flipping it closed. As soon as I let my eyes close the door slammed open and I fell backwards in my chair. "Ahaha" I yelled and Phil ran to me. I scrambled to my feet to see Smith. "We gotta go," he said quickly.

"Ok we've finished," I said rubbing my eyes. "Good. We got another. Let's go," said Smith and we all just ran out of the room. We got back into the car and we sped to the crime scene. On the construction site of the bridge on the east side of London. I gulped trying to mentally prepare myself.

A women was sprawled out on the cobble stone. She was dressed in the same shades of grays. T-shirt, sweatpants, old tennis shoes. Her hair looked pulled off and peppered her body. Her skin stained with muck, and dirt. She'd been out here a while. Her eyes were popped out and her mouth was sewed shut. The only splash of color was the plum nail polish painted on her fingernails. They're were surprisingly well done and unharmed. That was all that was done to her body. No calling card. "Well this is troubling, there's no calling card. Nothing," sighed Smith. "How long has she been out here," asked Phil. "I believe at least 3 days. This bridge was closed for construction and it was a weekend holiday for the company celebrating their 30 year anniversary. It's too calculated not to be one of them," said Johnson. We all nodded and I watched the rest of the crew take pictures and write down the findings. I looked out at the small crowd of people behind the caution tape. What I expected; journalists, reporters, and a few pedestrians. I scanned the crowd when I froze.

My heart pulsed when I locked eyes with her. She's absolutely stunning. Glistening (e/c) eyes, soft (h/l/c) hair, smooth (s/c) skin. I felt my cheeks flare up. What was a girl like that doing here. I was about to say something about her to Phil, till I saw her roll her eyes.

She looked at me like I bored her. Her hair tied back and her arms folded in front of her. Why did she look so disappointed. What was she even doing here at a crime scene. Everyone seemed to ignore her in the crowd. I guess the dead body was a little more important. She stood out so much, but when I blinked she vanished. I rubbed my eyes, maybe I was imagining it. "You ok," asked Phil confused. "Yeah just seeing things," I said in a joking way.

"Glad you boys can find time to joke around. Come on," snapped Smith and we jumped. I turned back to the body. "I need to figure out who's doing this, and I need to find out now," I mumbled to myself. "Mr. Johnson I have a question," asked Phil. "What is it," he replied. "Well what if this string of murders is by... you know," whispered Phil. "Are you suspicious of someone," asked Johnson. "Um... what about our granddad's archenemy," he asked. "You mean Moiarty," asked Smith and everyone got quiet. The only noise was the clicks of cameras and the people kept at a safe distance away. "Is he still alive," gasped Phil. "Hard to say. Honestly we haven't got any word about him since the night we last saw Sherlock," said Johnson sadly.

(Narrative Pov)

"Any reason you thought of him," asked Smith. "No no I just.... I had a feeling," Dan said unsure. "Well we can't help the victims with feelings. Let's get back to work," Smith sighed closing his notepad. Dan and Phil nodded.

Dan walked back to the body. Maybe there was something he missed. "Wait a min. Why is this women wearing nail polish," he asked. "What's so strange about that," asked Phil. "This women is blind," said Dan and Johnson ran over. "How do you know that. Her eyes are gone. Plus a friend could have painted it or a salon. What's so strange about that," he said confused. "A feeling," said Dan as he picked at the edge of the nail and the nail polish peel popped off. "SON OF A BITCH," Yelled Johnson and Smith ran over. Under her nail polish was a smiley face. "If we would have used a remover it would have cleaned off. What's happening. Why are these murders so close together. What are they planing," Smith said tightening his fists. "Can I ask what color this polish is ," Phil asked. "Not sure. I'll send it to the lab to be compared with that's sold in the area," said Johnson. "It kinda looks like the this brand my mom would wear a lot. When I was a kid but I doubt it's still around," said Phil. "What was the name," asked Smith. "I'm unsure. Let me call my mom," said Phil before stepping out to make the phone call.

"He's toying with us. To leave a clue so small," sighed Dan. "If he's playing, it means he respects you. True Moiarty disappeared, but it could still be him. It's his MO after all. His favorite calling card. Though since he disappeared we were skeptical. Now it's just like he and Sherlock's games of wit. Yet if it's not him then who," said Smith. "Guys I found out the name. Turns out she still has it," said Phil walking back to us. "What is it," asked Johnson. "It's called... My girl." Phil said hesitantly.

(Dan's Pov)

I  froze and all the information from the other cases rushed into his mind.

Case 1: a pink smiley face on girls shaven skull
Case 2: the girl was smelling of perfume with a pink label.
Case 3-6: women were found with pink heels
The rest of cases: women had a shade of pink lip gloss or eyeshadow.
Last case: pink mini dress and pink rosary

"No one thought twice because they were all women. Their getting impatient being called a man. This was a message to tell us. Does Moiarty have a daughter," I yelled. "No he had a son and he's already been questioned and we've had him under surveillance. He's just as confused as we are," said Johnson. "So he doesn't have any girls in his life that you know of," I said quickly. "Oh he does," said Johnson pulling out a photo from his coat. My eyes widened when I got the photo. "A Granddaughter?" Said Phil. It's her....My mouth went dry.

The girl I saw in the crowd...

It's Her