4 Beans + a Crime Scene - Ch 3

"Ah look, the pycho patrol," Anderson growled as Sherlock and John walked onto the crime scene.

Sherlock glared at him coldly.  "If by that you mean that I catch psychos, then you're quite right, Anderson.  Surprisingly so, really.  Usually all that comes out of your mouth is blithering nonsense."

Lestrade looked up from his notebook.  "Ah, Sherlock, was just about to call you," he said.  "And stop harassing my team, you know how that tends to annoy."

"We came over as soon as I read the morning paper," John said, giving Sherlock warning look, as his friend seemed to be deciding how best to drive the forensic scientist from the crime scene.  "Bit odd, really, it being in the news before you got to the crime scene."

Lestrade shifted uncomfortably.  "Yes, well, it seems that the residents of this area tend to keep hush about these kinds of things.  You know how it is."

"Yes," Sherlock said lazily.  "In this kind of neighborhood, I suppose informing to the police wouldn't be their first choice.  Can't say that I blame them," he glared at Anderson scathingly.

"Well, the body's over there," Lestrade said, nodding in the direction of a tarp-covered form.  "It's a clear-cut beating, but the significance of the four beans in her right hand makes me think that there's more to this than, say, a mugging.  Her wallets on her, as well as her jewelry."

"Have you identified the body then?" John asked.

"Yes, Jackie Eddings.  Harp player," Lestrade said.

"Hardly sounds like the type to be wandering around here," Sherlock muttered, walking up to the body and lifting the tarp.  "John, take a look, would you?"

"Right," John said, crouching down to look under the cover.  "Just like the inspector said, looks like a beating.  I'd say with something cylindrical, probably a bat.  Cause of death most likely trauma to the head.  It's just…"

Sherlock looked at him.  "Just what?"

John peered at the body closely.  "The amount of damage to the skeletal structure…I've never seen anything like it, at least not in hand-to-hand.  The bones have been almost crushed completely in places.  It looks like killing her wasn't enough."

"And the beans?"

John took a pen out of his coat pocket and gently pried the woman's fingers apart.  "Look like ordinary beans to me," he said.

Sherlock stood up.  "But why beans?" he said quietly to himself.

"Maybe she was coming back from market," Anderson interjected.

Sherlock turned and looked at him coldly.  "Yes.  She went to market and bought four beans, which she then carried in her hand through a rough part of London," he said sarcastically.

Anderson's face was stony.  Lestrade rubbed his eyes.  Sherlock straightened up.  "Well then.  It seems like you all have it figured out, hmm?  John, I think it's time to leave."

Lestrade's eyes widened.  "Sherlock, you must have some idea of what's going on here!" he said, exasperated.

Sherlock turned on his heel and walked off, John running to catch up.

"Do you have any idea of what's going on?" John asked.

"Nope," Sherlock said, hailing a cab.  "Not much of one, anyway."