Her skin stretched taut across her meatless frame. All skin and bones, she was, lain haphazardly across the river rocks like a discarded doll. Her body was in an unnatural position, which begged the question, "Now, what am I going to do about my midday meal?"

Annoyed, I watched as her black mourning dress fluttered in the breeze. Grimacing, I turned slightly to notice Watson had arrived. I swiftly tore past him without a word. He seemed a bit miffed that I had ignored him yet again, but I could tell he was getting used to it.

He quickly followed and I could sense his need to ask questions, "Out with it." He spoke in a frustrated tone, "You really are quite terrible, you know." I rolled my eyes, "What of it?" He frowned at my lackluster reply, "All you think about is how these poor people's deaths inconvenience you. The least you could do is pretend that you care."

I scoffed at him, "Do you know me at all?" He rolled his eyes, "Yes, Sherlock, I just thought perhaps this time you could heed my advice. Her family is waiting for an explanation and such. Please don't be yourself, lest I have to clean up your mess...Again."