Suddenly, I stopped falling. I dared to open my eyes and saw that Sherlock had caught me. He stumbled a bit, trying to maintain his balance and as he gained it, our faces were very close together, our noses touching. Once he noticed, he pulled back. "I told you I wouldn't let you fall." He smiled down at me, before placing me on the floor.

"Thank you." I stammered, looking to the floor as my cheeks burned.

"Anytime." He winked cheekily at me, before heading into Van Coon's apartment. I gained my composure, hoping my blush was gone, before I followed him inside.

Sherlock was bustling around the flat, taking in every object. I walked across the room to a set of shut doors. I could hear John asking us to let him in, but Sherlock payed him no mind while I was more interested in the doors, which, I had noticed, were locked from the inside. "Umm Sherlock, these doors are locked from the inside." I pointed out my observations, turning towards the consulting detective.

"Step back, Chloe." He warned, giving me but a moment to move before he barreled at the door and forced it open.

He led the way through the doors as I followed closely behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks as he stared forward, towards the bed, causing me to almost walk into the back of him. I stopped myself just moments before I did, stepping to the side of him, to see what he was looking at. My hands flew up to my mouth at the sight before me. Lying on the bed was a man, Edward Van Coon, I presumed, with a bullet through the side of his head.

*****

I had let John in while Sherlock called the police, after some convincing from me. He hadn't wanted to involve them but I insisted that he needed to. Soon enough, they were bustling around the scene while John, Sherlock and I discussed the circumstances. "Well maybe he had lost a load of money or something. Suicide is common among these city types." John suggested.

"We don't know that it was a suicide." Sherlock muttered, eyes scanning over the room.

"It seems like a suicide." I muttered, still quite shaken up. I had almost fallen to my death, and then minutes later, we stumbled across a dead body, I doubt anybody wouldn't be at least a little bit shaken after those events. Well, maybe with the exception of Sherlock, I thought, before turning my attention back to the matter at hand.

John and Sherlock continued discussing the case, me chiming in a couple of times. Sherlock seemed to think it was a murder, that Van Coon was being threatened and that was what the message was in the bank. Soon enough, another man entered the room. Sherlock introduced himself but the man did not seem too fond of him. Apparently, he was the Detective Inspector, Dimmock, who was in charge of the investigation. He walked into the living room, leaving the three of us trailing behind.

"Well, it's obviously a suicide." He stated. John soon agreed with him, but Sherlock contradicted the statement.

"Wrong! It's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You decided to overlook anything that goes against the conclusion you have chosen to believe." He stated, looking over at the DI.

"Like?" Dimmock asked, unimpressed.

"Well, for starters, the wound is on the right side of his head." Sherlock told him.

"Yes, I saw that, that's why I said it was a suicide." The detective inspector uttered, not getting where Sherlock was coming from. I couldn't say I was understanding much better myself.

"Edward Van Coon was left-handed, look around the apartment, everything is set up for a left handed person to use. That would take quite a bit of contortion don't you think." He explained. I scanned the room, seeing that he was in fact correct, not that I was really surprised.

The DI was baffled as Sherlock listed the things. "But the gun..." Dimmock reasoned.

"He was waiting for the killer. He had been threatened." Sherlock explained incredulously, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. The detective inspector however, still didn't understand.

"Today, at the bank, there was some kind of warning for Van Coon to see." I stepped up and explained.

"He fired when his attacked entered." Sherlock said. "And the bullet?"

"Went through the window."

"Yeah right, what are the chances of that?" The DI exclaimed.

"Wait for the pathologists report, DI Dimmock, I can guarantee that the bullet which is in Edward Van Coon's head was not fired from the gun beside him." Sherlock told the man.

"But the door, it was locked from the inside. How could the killer get in?" The DI asked.

"Finally your asking the right questions." Sherlock replied before sweeping out of the room, myself and John quickly following.

*****

John and Sherlock were heading to see Sebastian, to inform him of the discovery of Ed Van Coon's body, but I decided to leave them, promising to pop by the next day, and head home. I arrived home quickly and checked my phone for the first time since we left for the bank. I had multiple messages from Elliot, laughing at John and asking if I was okay because I usually reply straight away.

I wrote him a message back, telling him I was okay and that I had been busy all day with John and Sherlock and that was why I hadn't replied, before I went to put away the shopping that I had dumped in the kitchen this morning. Thankfully, John had reminded me to put away anything that needed to go in the fridge or freezer before we left, so nothing was spoiled and I just had to put away the rest of the things in the cupboards before I headed to bed, exhausted from the day I had just had.

*****

I woke up the next morning to my phone text alert sound. I grabbed my phone and saw the text was from an unknown number. It read, "Are you able to come around today, your help may prove to be useful. -SH" It seemed that Sherlock had found my number, probably from John's phone. I text him back, telling him I'd be round in about half an hour, and added his contact in my phone, before getting up and having a shower. I got dressed and dried my blonde hair before grabbing a cereal bar and my coat and leaving for Baker Street.

I rapped on the door a few times before waiting for someone to open it. Mrs Hudson answered the door, we talked for a few minutes before she told me just to head upstairs and that, for future reference, I needn't knock, I could just walk in and knock on the boys flat door. I opened the door to the flat and saw Sherlock stood, staring at the wall above the fireplace which was littered with pictures he had taken on his phone during the day yesterday.

"Hello Chloe." He greeted, catching my eye in the mirror, which was mostly obscured by the pictures.

"Morning Sherlock, John not in?" I asked, causing him to turn around and scan the area, before shrugging and muttering,

"Guess not, and I was wondering why it was taking him so long to pass me a pen." I smiled at him, shaking my head before grabbing a pen and heading over to him.

"Do you often talk to John while he's not here?" I questioned, handing him the pen before sitting down in John's unoccupied seat.

"Maybe." He replied before he began scribbling away.

John soon arrived and he didn't seem all that surprised to see me there. He was wearing a stupid smile on his face. "Where have you been?" I asked him, wondering what had gotten him looking like a lovesick puppy.

"Oh, just an interview at the surgery." He said, partially snapping out of it.

"How was it?" Sherlock chimed in, turning from his case board, towards us.

"Great. She's great." He replied, not realising what he had said, but both Sherlock and I had picked up on it. We shared a glance before I turned back to John, raising my eyebrows.

"She?"I teased.

"Who's "she"?" Sherlock continued my teasing.

"The job." John quickly corrected.

"No you definitely said "she"." I smirked.

"It." He told me, firmly.

"Okay then, whatever you say cuz, whatever you say," I mocked, before we both turned to Sherlock who had grabbed his laptop to show us something.

Another man. Murdered. Doors locked. Windows bolted shut from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon. The killer had struck again.