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If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    He watched her for a while, and then looked back at his phone. With surprise, he realised it was enclosed with information on the pet murder case. So, this killer decided slaughtering household companions wasn't enough. When he had read the whole text, the detective he messaged John and asked him to meet him at Scotland Yard.
    The doctor replied withba no, stating he was with Mary. Sherlock sighed- did marriage really mean staying with ones wife all day? Swiftly, he put his phone away and opened the car door that the woman was sitting in. "Hello," Sherlock said to her. "You are goig to Scotland Yard, correct?" With no further explanation he sat down next to her in the cab and shut the door before turning to look out of the window and think- for he finally had a case to think about.


    Ooc: Meet Sherlock; to whom social norms don't apply.
    Erm... lyrics? Hmm, coldplay maybe?

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    {Social norms are no fun.
    Coldplay could work. Fall Out Boy might have something as well if you can't find anything fitting with Coldplay.}


    Liv moved over to make room for the man. She gave a small nod. She awkwardly cleared her throat before speaking the question that had come to mind the moment the door was opened. [color=#99CCFF]"And you are?" The words came softly from her mouth, a hidden edge laced within the sentence. She looked over at the tall stranger, taking the time to examine him. Tall, icy eyes, dark curly hair. Handsome. She leaned against the opposite door, resting her chin on her knuckles as she waited for a reply.
    Liv prepared herself to unlock the door and get the hell out of the cab at any moment. She grew up in a city, being prepared was something she learned to be from an early age. To the point where she might be a little over prepared. She did have a doomsday kit somewhere. She would never admit this aloud, but the reasoning for the case was to protect her cats life. Her cat was important. He was an a-hole who knocked things down for no reason, but she loved him anyway. And he never seemed to mind her strange sleep schedule.


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    Rain had begun to fall outside, and the gentle patter of water filled the silence. Sherlock was annoyed; he couldn't think properly with the noise, so he simply sat and tried to do something productive in his mind. Then, he heard the girls voice ask him a question he had been expecting. Not turning around, he replied, "Sherlock Holmes."
    The detective put his hands together brought them up to his face, trying to concentrate. Unfortunately, he could practically hear that woman's mind going, and almost expected her to jump out of the car with that nervous posture and tone. Just to make sure she wouldn't, although he couldn't say he cared an awful lot, he added smoothly as he turned to face her, "I'm not going to hurt you. Its highly improbable, considering we are on our way to Scotland Yard... Now, I would appreciate it if you didn't speak now, I need to think." Sherlock's baritone voice stopped and he brought his icy stare back to the window, which was dotted with raindrops and blurred with the running water.



    Ooc: pick one.
    'You're appealing to emotions I simply do not have'
    'I cant blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for loving it'
    'I don't care what you think as long as its about me'
    I also like the coldplay line from the song 'the scientist':
    'Questions of science, science and progress, don't speak as loud a my heart'
    ...but its a bit long.

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    {I really like 'You're appealing to emotions I simply do not have'}


    Liv gave a nod and allowed herself to visibly relax. She crossed her leg over the other and her arms loosely crossed across her torso. She turned toward the window and watched the world pass as the black cab drove along the gloomy city streets. She began to wonder how the hell she ended up in a cab with a stranger whom seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. If she was seven, she would have thought mind-reader.
    The Danish girl tried to look upon the bright side. It wasn't every day you got to share a cab with a handsome stranger? Okay, fine. She couldn't see the bright side. She adjusted her position, moving her head onto her chin, and thought of the case she had yet to be told about. Not that she cared much for the case itself. Her interest in what the dead had to tell her. Dead men do tell tales.


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    OOC: Alright; I'll change it to that shortly.


    IC:


    He could see her relax from the corner of his eye, but tried to remain focused on the case by staring intently out of the window. It was no use; Sherlock couldn't concentrate while sharing a cab, and was beginning to wish he had gotten his own. Too late for that, He thought to himself, and turned back around to look at her once more.
    "What is it about the dead that interests you?" The detective asked, deciding to drop the bombshell sooner rather than later and see the shocked look on her face. How he enjoyed the look of surprise that crossed over people faces when he asked them questions, sometimes personal questions. It didn't occur to him it might unsettle some. Keeping his icy blue eyes fixated on the Danish Girl, Sherlock noticed that they were nearing their destination, and tried to contain his excitement for the case. When John was around, he usually stopped him from doing this to people, but John wasn't here.
    John is with Mary, The handsome, enigmatic man thought, not quite feeling right without his blogger.

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    {Arighty~}


    Liv was used to questions like this. Usually it had more of a venomous edge and game from a family. She didn't really think before answering. "People say the dead don't talk. They do. You just need to listen." She was sure that's not the answer he wanted. She kept her pale green gaze on the world outside the glass window. She made herself promise that she would get unpacked and go tour the city or something. The sooner she got it out of her system the more she would appear like a native. She supposed she could use a friend as well. Someone who wasn't a cat. She could befriend the landlord? She seemed like a sweet lady. Of course her female relatives would ask for a more 'male' and younger friend. To which, Liv always described a pancake or pastry. They hadn't caught on yet.
    Liv craned her neck to see past the driver and out the front window. [color=#99CCFF]"So, Mr. Holmes, what is bringing you to Scotland Yard?"     She was aware she never introduced herself. But Mr. Holmes never asked. Which meant she wouldn't tell. Liv sat back once more, wishing she knew where she was exactly, and she certainly wasn't going to ask. If she was alone with the driver she might have. She'd rather not make a fool of herself in front of this stranger. This ridiculously attractive stranger.


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    He listened carefully to her brief but meaningful explanation, sensing her caution. Not moving, but his eyes glittering with thoughtfulness, he spoke again in his sonorous tone. "That's how I am with my cases." He didn't expand on this and just watched her thoughtfully for a while until she asked him about Scotland Yard. "I," He said, relishing the opportunity to spread his fame, "Am a consulting detective; the worlds only. I invented the profession." With a jolt he realised these were almost his exact words to John when they were on the way to the case he labelled 'A Study in Pink'. Deciding to follow on, he answered an expected question before it was asked. "When the police need help solving a crime, and they are to incompetent to do it, they come to me for help. And they are always incompetent."
    Sherlock realised he had yet to ask her identity, but felt no need to. "So, what does Lestrade need another toxicologist for?" He added smoothly, pulling out his phone and checking a text from John;


    Sherlock, Hang on. Have you gone yet? I can come with you.


    Sighing, the detective typed a swift message.


    No, It's fine. -SH


    Then, he put it back, and turned back to Liv, waiting for an answer.

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    Liv gave a small nod to the definition of the title he has claimed himself. When it came time for her to speak she gave a small shrug. [color=#99CCFF]"I'm good at my job." She was aware this probably wasn't the answer the man was looking for. She wasn't going to admit that she didn't know exactly why she was in London. She wasn't about to complain though, it was beautiful despite the rainy weather. Not that she minded rain either.
    She watched the buildings, examining their polished stone accents. Everything seemed so - sophisticated. She knew that she probably wouldn't see much of the tourist attractions as she wished. Not while she had a job to do. The most she could probably do was tape a postcard to the wall of the lab. That would do for now.


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    He frowned, realising she didn't even know herself. Turning his interest outside, he saw the stone and concrete forest that he knew like the back of his hand. He had memorised every street in London, for practical uses and because, when he was bored, he did anything to vent his boredom.
    Suddenly they were there, at Scotland Yard. Placing some money on the seat for her to pick up, Sherlock was standing before the Danish girl had even attempted to move, and he shut the cab door behind him. Offering nary a backwards glance, he turned up his coat collar and walked into the building at a brisk and long-legged pace.
    Sherlock strode through the corridors until he came by Lestrade's office. "Graham, I've come for the-"
    The Detective Inspector was sitting in his chair, looking very tired. "I know why you are here, Sherlock. I sent you the text. And its Greg."
    Without acknowledging his last sentence, the detective stood in front of him and waited. "Well? Where's the crime scene?""Where's John?" Lestrade asked.
    "With Mary," Replied Sherlock nonchalantly. "Get to the point, I didn't come here to talk about John's relationship status."
    The older man sighed, and looked behind Sherlock. "I was expecting somebody else. A Danish girl, just moved here. She'll be working on the case, too."
    Blinking in surprise, but showing no other emotion, the tall man nodded silently.


    Display Spoiler

    The post was edited 1 time, last by נα¢к∂αω ().

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    {I feel like my life is complete upon seeing that picture. Sorry I take so long to answer. I want to make sure everything is right.}


    Liv took the money and paid the cab before getting out herself. She felt as if she was already late, and picked up her pace. She entered the building and began scanning the doors for one marked 'Lestrade'. After what felt like five years to the Dane, she finally found the office. She stepped inside and gave the man she assumed was to be her new boss a nod. [color=#99CCFF]"Detective Inspector Lestrade?" She didn't hear her accent, she never heard it. The moment she stepped out of the Airport she became aware of how thick her accent was. She spent her whole life in Denmark, only leaving the country a few times on vacations. Now that she lived out of her home country, she constantly found herself double checking her English and actions to seem less - foreign.
    Liv examined the man, greying hair, dark eyes. Looks tired enough to kill someone. She stood patiently in the doorway. She had no idea if she was supposed to knock. The door was open, Liv thought it was okay to enter. She had studied before her move, to try to understand and remember the social norms of the foreign nation.


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    Sherlock watched as Lestrade called her in. "Come in."
    He watched her, standing in the doorway, lingering and unsure of what to do. The Detective Inspectors name sounded strange on her accent, and Sherlock quite liked the Danish accent. Not that such things mattered. Staying motionless in the corner, his riveting eyes focused on the doorway, he waited for the girl he had shared a cab with to enter.
    Lestrade picked up some important-looking files and shuffled them in his hands, stifling a yawn. He had been up all night trying to get his head around the abnormalities and details of this particuarlly perplexing case.
    "You're going to love this one, Sherlock," The tired man said loudly, handing him the file which said Sherlock took without a word. "It's a serial killer."
    Frowning slightly at Lestrade, he studied the case documents of which there were several. Then, waiting impatiently for the Detective to begin, he looked back to his office door.


    //mobile
    its fine, I'm just excited to get into the thread.

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    {This should be an interesting thread! Yoooooo we should have Moriarty behind the Serial Killer like in 'A Study In Pink'.}


    Liv stepped into the office and off to the side of the door. She stood still against the wall, watching the Inspector shuffle through the files. She was curious to begin with, more so about the bodies, but now that the words 'serial killer' were spoken aloud. Well, that just caught her full attention. There weren't many serial killers in Denmark. Nor crimes for that matter. She spent her days testing the tissues of people whom died of natural causes or car crashes. Serial killings were defiantly something she wanted to work on.
    She waited somewhat patiently for the Inspector to start talking of the case. The brunette chewed the inside of her cheek, biting at a swell in the tissue from an unfortunate incident a few days earlier. She wanted nothing more than for the Inspector to get on with it. But, she was new and he, and his opinion of her, had an influence on whether she received a paycheck or not.


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    Inspector Lestrade nodded in greetings to the new girl.
    "Before I start anything," The tired man said, looking pointedly at Sherlock, "I would like to say you are working together on this case. That means try not to scare her off.""Yes, now just get the point so I can get on this case. I've been very bored recently, and I would appreciate it if we got started." The younger detective said bluntly, moving forwards.
    "I'm sorry my overseer paired you with Sherlock. Hopefully for you it'll only be for one case." Mid-yawn, Detective Inspector Lestrade spoke sympathetically towards Liv, ignoring Sherlock and rising from his seat.


    Clasping his hands behind his back, the dark haired man frowned and waited for the tired detective to speak on the only topic he currently cared about. Mind whirring with the facts he already knew, Sherlock stared intently at Lestrade as he began to speak.
    "I'm sure you've turned on your TV, Sherlock, and have seen the news story on the dead pets. Well, the same thing has been happening only now the owners are being killed, left cradling their dead pets. Oh, and all the corpses are missing hearts."


    //Can you be Molly, Moriarty, Anderson and The murderer? I'll be John, Lestrade, Donovan, and Mrs Hudson.

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    {Sure thing!}


    Liv gave a small nod at the words directed toward her. The one thing she hadn't turned on lately was the news. The hearts sounded something that would happen on a cult TV show. [color=#99CCFF]"Will I be able to examine the bodies, Inspector?" She wanted to see the corpses first hand. Her mind began to whirl with possibilities. Most revolved around what someone would do with a human and animal heart? All she could think of was a sacrifice. But nothing the Inspector said hit her as some ancient or satanic ritual. She would need to double check of course.
    As she waited for an answer and hopefully a direction or address of the morgue, Liv spared a glance at her new 'partner'. While she was getting her PhD she did work in the local police department. Nothing major, she mainly sat on the side of the road and gave tickets. God knows how long ago that was. It would be different to work with someone again.


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    Black = Sherlock, Normal = Lestrade
    I'm sorry, I have a tonne of muse for this thread


    Lestrade nodded slightly, taking the files back from Sherlock and handing them to Liv. "Yes, you will be able to examine the bodies. Sherlock will take you to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and you will be under supervision of..." The greying detective thought for a moment. "Molly Hooper, who works there." Sitting back down on his chair, he reassured the Danish girl with a few words.
    "The case will probably be over sooner than you think, but it is a puzzling one. Good luck," The Inspector said pointedly, looking back at his desk and ignoring them as a gesture that they could leave.


    "Lestrade, I do have John, he's a doctor and can inspect the bodies, we don't need Miss..." Sherlock paused for a moment and then continued, "To inspect them as well." In all honesty he worked better alone, or with John, and tolerated Molly coming in and out every so often, but someone who would actually attempt to do something would be too much bother for the intellectual detective.


    "Miss Oster is not a helper, she has a PhD in Toxicology and will be replacing Dr Watson for a while at least, as you and I both know he has better things to do than run around on your cases, blogging about you. He does have a wife," Reminded Lestrade, not looking up.


    Ignoring the matter-of-fact tone of voice that the Detective Inspector used, Sherlock walked out of his office and said, albeit quietly, "John enjoys blogging." Then, with a louder tone, he called to Liv.
    "Come on then, we are going to St Bart's." Walking down the corridor, he didn't stop or slow his pace for the attractive woman he thought a burden.
    Stopping at the side of the road, he looked out for any cabs. It didn't take him long to spot one in the distance, so he hailed it, turning up his collar against the wind.

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    {I'm going away for a week starting sometime tomorrow. I apologize a head of time for my inactivity. I won't be able to post since there won't be any WiFi where I vacation. I will be able to get on and check whenever possible. We might be getting WiFi but I have no idea.}


    Liv followed him out and somehow managed to fall into pace beside him. She'd regret it later, her legs would be sore in the morning. But for now, she was overcome with a need to prove herself. She stopped next to him, loosely crossing her arms over her chest as if the motion would bring her protection from the wind. She looked up at Sherlock giving a small tilt to her head. "Would I be right to assume the Doctor John mentioned is a friend of yours?" She didn't really care, but she thought it best to break the conversation and get to know those she would be working with for as long as allowed.
    Dark strands of hair whipped her face as she stood there waiting for the cab. Or at least she hoped he had called a cab. Otherwise standing in the biting wind and rain was a bit pointless. Her hair was dampening, that much she was well aware of. She squinted her eyes against the large droplets, waiting to see if her peculiar partner would give her a reply.


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    No worries. Have fun!


    Aware of her presence behind him, Sherlock watched the cab come closer. Not willing to make the same mistake again, he decided this was his cab and his cab only. Hearing her presumption, he nodded slightly and confirmed, "Yes, he is my friend. He blogs about me an the cases I solve... You should really take a look, though the titles are utterly ridiculous." Then, tired of the girls irrelevant conversation, he turned around. "This is my cab. You get the next one, just say St. Bartholemews." By then the cab had parked beside the road, engine running, and Sherlock sat down inside and shut the door. "St. Barts," He told the taxi driver, and fell into a thoughtful silence, not even looking at the obviously cold woman stood on the side of the road.

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    {Thanks.}


    Liv stood there for a moment, her eyes narrowed at the cab. Well. Okay? She stepped closer to the curb and hailed another taxi. His cab? The first cab was my cab. But you didn't see me kicking him out. She stepped back as the cab came to the curb to avoid getting soaked any further. She climbed into the warm interior and leaned into the upholstery. [color=#99CCFF]"St. Bartholemews, please." Without a word, the driver pulled from the curb as was off. She stared out the window, the gears in her head reeling with the possible conditions of the bodies.


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    A pair of fathomless and icy oculars stared out of the rain-splattered window; they were intense and ridiculously intelligent and belonged to a very intense and ridiculously, almost frighteningly intelligent man. Sherlock's eyes were trained on nothing and he stayed absolutely still, leaning against the warm upholstery, as the vehicle he was in drove fluently along the London streets. When the cab finally rolled to a halt, Sherlock gave the driver his money and without a word, he rose from the seat and emerged into the rain. His dark hair was curlier than usual in the downpour and he strode inside the hospital. Knowing the way and being a regular visitor at St. Barts, he continued undisturbed down the clean white hallways until he reached the room he was looking for. Sherlock opened the door to the Morgue, to see Molly Hooper stood on the other side.


    "Hello Molly, I've come to see the bodies. Could you bring them out for me?" Sherlock asked bluntly as soon as he entered the room, showing the girl a small smile before untying his blue scarf and placing it down. The detective shed his long, slightly damp coat, and he was left wearing his very flattering purple shirt. "Oh, I'm expecting somebody else today. John isn't coming and Lestrade assigned a new girl with me to work on this case."


    Finally directly looking at the nervous girl that he towered over, Sherlock clasped his hands together and stared at her for a few moments patiently, his eyes bright with expectancy and his expression bearing thoughtfulness as he looked down at her. "Take your time, Molly. But quite quickly, please."

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