Chapter Text
The apartment at 221B Baker Street was unusually chaotic that morning. Sherlock was pacing, muttering to himself about a “psychotic symmetry” found in the latest murder case. John, used to this by now, was seated at the small dining table with his laptop, typing up notes on the case. Mariana, however, was sprawled lazily on the couch, reading through the case file with a hint of amusement.
“You’re missing the point, Watson,” Sherlock snapped, not stopping his frantic pacing. “The blood splatter pattern wasn’t random; it was orchestrated.”
John looked up with a frown. “So you’re saying the killer didn’t just attack, but staged everything after?”
Sherlock waved his hand impatiently. “Exactly, but what does that tell you?”
Before John could respond, Mariana jumped in. “That the killer’s a perfectionist with a flair for the dramatic, like you.”
Sherlock stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at her, though a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. Mariana was often flippant, but he couldn’t deny her insights were useful. In her own way, she had a knack for peeling back the layers of the criminal mind.
John sighed, glancing at the two of them. “So what now? Do we start tracking down every artist in London who’s got a thing for gore?”
“Not quite,” Sherlock replied, moving over to the window. “We’re looking for someone who’s methodical but unpredictable. Someone with precision… but also a touch of madness.”
Mariana sat up, throwing the file onto the table. “Sounds like our kind of guy. So, what’s the plan?”
Sherlock glanced at her, his eyes sharp. “We find his next canvas before he does.”
As Sherlock started listing off leads, John shook his head with a smile. This trio—an unlikely mix of intellect, wit, and recklessness—had somehow become the perfect team. Sherlock may be the brain, but without John’s level-headedness and Mariana’s sharp instincts, they wouldn’t have gotten far. Together, they were unstoppable.