Home wasn't far. You were already there and tuned out everyone else. You were examining one of your tongues. You were holding it in your gloved hand, dried out or not it's gross.

Sherlock's POV

Her home was much like mine. Dark walls, skull on the mantle, she even had a piano next to a window over looking the street. She has rather good taste.

"Grace! Where is Satan!?"

"I don't know where Cooper is! Why don't you look for him!"

"Who?"

I asked. He must be important.

"He's our dog. We call him by different names because we couldn't decide on which one to choose. Tea?"

"Yes."

Grace walked into the kitchen where (y/n) was working on the case. She was awfully busy, she is much like myself. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that something was down at my feet. It was a rather large golden retriever. It had very coarse hair, and was looking up at me. I heard one of the girls whistle and the dog walked away into the kitchen. I followed the dog to see that it was standing next to (y/n).

"Satan, up."

She pat a stool next to her and the dog jumped up and sat on it. 'It's very well trained.' I thought to my self. I heard John walk up next to me.

"Sherlock, it's getting late. We should get going."

"You go on ahead, I want to see if they can solve this case."

Grace had the tea ready and was about to give it to us when (y/n) spoke up.

"John is leaving, so I'm taking his tea."

Grace just rolled her eyes and handed me my tea. (y/n) was obviously able to hear John, despite his attempt to be quiet. I could tell she was very clever.

Your POV

You pulled something from the belt of your pants. Yup, you kept a scalpel with you where ever you went. You cut off a thin layer of skin from the tongue and put it under the microscope.

"Well, I'm heading off to my room. Sherlock, it wad lovely meeting you."

Ah, normal people. So polite, so boring. You were looking at the chemical compound of the tongue when you felt a warm breath on your neck. You didn't even look up to see who it was, you already knew. It was too easy.

"May I help you, Mr. Holmes?"

"I was wondering what you were doing."

"You're a sociopath, deduce it."

You smirked, knowing he would need more information. After a few minutes of silence, you picked up a tongue, and turned around to face Sherlock. Since you were standing, you didn't have to look up much. Sure, Sherlock was taller than you, but only by half an inch.

You held up the tongue so he could see it.

"Look at where the tongue would usually be connected to the rest of the mouth. You can tell it has been burned off. Now, when human skin gets burned like this, it bleeds. The only problem is, there is not dried blood on the tongue. So obviously, the victims were dead before the tongues got cut off. So, I took off a layer of skin, and I found cyanide. So, these people were killed, then had their tongues cut off. Both of the suspects are guilty, worked together, one of them will probably be dead by tomorrow. Case solved, too easy."