Sherlock paced across her living room, Suziria splayed across the back of the coach, wooden puzzle in hand. This case was proving to be annoying. The perp never stuck in a pattern other than vulnerable omegas in quite a few parts of the city. It had been a week since the last attack, and Sherlock was getting restless. She had already stalked the areas that were most likely to new crime scenes and the old ones as well. She had already finished her last cig and couldn't be bothered to roll more.
Sherlock stood in front of her board once again, “He stabs the omegas. Obviously, the knife is a replacement for his dick. He's impotent and angry, seeking to control and take back what power he feels he's lost. He takes mostly jewelry as souvenirs, but on the male omegas, he takes their shoes,” Sherlock growled, ruffling her hair, her fingers slipping through her curls. So far, there were five victims, one died of blood loss on the way to the hospital, three more died on sight, and the last one died an hour after.
“Perhaps he has a job that makes him feel small,” Suziria asked from their spot on the coach.
“While that is a possibility that doesn't help at the moment," Sherlock waved dismissively towards the couch. As Sherlock continued to stare at the board, her phone rang. "What?" She barked into the phone.
"There's been another, this time, he killed them," D.I Lestrade's voice told him. "62 Queens Road behind the nightclub."
"We will be there, don't touch anything!" Sherlock hung up the phone and strode towards her coat. She quickly drew it across her body. Suziria climbed up her leg and the back of her Belstaff, placing the wooden puzzle in the left pocket before perching on her shoulder.
With any luck, it was the actual stabber and not an opportunistic killing. There had been several of them ever since the press broke the news. People were using him as a way to try and get away with murder. They hailed a cab and slid inside, giving the cabbie directions. When they arrived, Sherlock tossed the cabbie a handful of bills and hurried towards the police tape. Lestrade was there waiting for her, Donovan nowhere in sight.
"Where's the body?" Sherlock asked, cutting to the chase, ducking under the police tape.
"Right this way, twenty-five female omega, no jewelry, but her purse wasn't taken, leaving out robbery. She was stabbed several times," Lestrade spoke, leading Sherlock the short distance to the body.
Sherlock stood over the bloody body with a fading stainless steel coloured magic taking on every detail, the pretty blonde laid face down. She was in a waitress uniform headed home from work. Sherlock kneeled closer to the body, and there was a slight tan line around her wrist indicating a routinely worn bracelet. He was getting more violent, and chunks of her hair were ripped from her scalp. Sherlock took a glove and used it to lift her hand. There was no blood under her fingertips, only gravel. She had tried to crawl away, and he most likely knelt on her while stabbing. It was most definitely their guy. Going by how she had been able to move while he was on top of her, he must be slight of build as well as short going by the angle of the thrusts from the prior bodies.
"Got anything for me, Sherlock?"
"The man is also slight of build, seeing as he clearly knelt on her, and she was able to move. If he had been a heavier man, she would have found it difficult," Sherlock shook her head. This case was puzzling and frustrating. She should have been able to solve it by now. She would need to do a reading tonight.
"It's okay, Sherlock, maybe he has help? That could be why the crime scenes are so clean of DNA and evidence pointing to the killer," Suziria pointed out, patting her cheek in an attempt to be comforting.
"That's a good point. Lestrade, check the database for any witches capable of cleaning a crime scene. No omegas, though." It could be another Moriarty associated case.
"On it," Lestrade didn't bother to argue with her for once.
Sherlock had been on the trail of a man named Moriarty, a consulting criminal as he was known. His cases always frustrated her. He helped criminals do better crimes, which at first had been thrilling, and better cases to solve. However, now it was just annoying every time she unraveled one knot of his tangled web. There was another one waiting for her. She even resorted to working with her brother.
Fem!John would have tits like me. He would legitimately get a reduction. She’s not small-chested like you think, & having a big chest isn’t a blessing. I’m serious. John has a build that I think would mean fem!John is heavy-chested like me (not me I don’t have boobies what are you talking about I’m completely flat bc I’m nonbinary hahaha), my mother, the sister I no longer have, my dad’s sister, & to a degree like my mom’s mother. Not like my dad’s mum tho. John’s fem build would be a lot like my aunt, but more like my mum’s height. Trust me, I have a feeling.
Fem!John’s tits work in mysterious ways to you I get it though.
Fem!Sherlock is a different matter.
Also, y’all meed to stop drawing fem!Sherlock & fem!John so skinny. Fem!John’s waist isn’t like that, but you’re right s/he does have hips. Fem!Sherlock is a lot more straight cut, but s/he does have a waist.
Fem!John would be running through the streets of london & she would be holding her boobs in her hands bc she can’t run properly, & she would always complain after running (if she doesn’t hold them) that they pulled at her skin, she would complain they get in the way of hand-to-hand combat, she would wear two sports bras while running around london just so she can keep up. She would complain that the heavy & sharp yanks on her chest when she runs makes it harder to breathe, & eventually Sherlock would just say “here, take my card, go get a hecking reduction already” unless she already got a reduction from the military in which case yeah you’re drawing her properly.
I’m not just saying this bc I’m trans tho lol.
Disclaimer: You are allowed to draw whatever art makes you happy & you’re allowed to have different opinions from me. This is just what I think. Fandom should be a place where you can express yourself & your headcanons freely! Don’t feel the need to conform to my expectations of fem art! You do you babey!
Sherlock paced the floor of her flat. She had sent the homeless network on the task of hunting the women down. She had once more run out of cigarettes and was too wound up to roll more. How hard is it to find a blonde omega witch? She most likely had a large familler, most like a k9. K9s were common with both normal military and police personnel and witches who used to be military. Witches and magicians were not allowed in the military. There was something about the blonde, even with just a glance that fascinated Sherlock. Suziria glared at the door.
"Someone's coming," They spoke, still looking at the door from their perch on Sherlock's leather chair. Suziria was excellent at sensing a magician’s own brand of magic.
Sure enough, Sherlock heard the front open and close and steps on their way up. She rushed to fling the door open to see Ansel, one of the members of the homeless network.
"I think I found her, Doc. She heals people who can't or won't go in, but her familiar isn't a K9 like you said. Come quick, Del’s been hurt, and she's quick," Ansel spoke, looking worried, glancing back at the door. "He's hurt real bad," Ansel and Del were a mated pair of betas.
"Then let's be off," Sherlock put her long coat on with a swish of dark purple magic as Suziria scrambled up to her shoulder.
Ansel quickly turned and headed back down the steps Sherlock hot on his heels. He lead her down an alley where a portal awaited on the wall. She watched as he took out his chalk. It was so very bizarre how a magician's tool was so ordinary looking. A simple piece of chalk is used to create doors and portals. It had a faint glow about it. Her power wasn't as attuned to magician’s but she was working on it. Ansel drew a glowing number two on the top corner of the door as he stepped through. Familiars being made of Magic didn't count. Sherlock stepped through as well. When she stepped onto the other side, the sight that greeted her was one that she hadn't quite been expecting.
Del laid on the ground, a large piece of metal sticking out of side blood oozing from the wound. Del was a new magician with rings that allowed him to control metal. He must have been practicing and took on more than he could handle. The blonde from before came to kneel beside him, and a large white leopard joined her. Sherlock stayed out of sight wishing to observe the goings on.
"Doc, will he be ok?" Ansel asked, coming to kneel near Dels' head stroking his hair.
"He will be fine," Doc reassured him. Sherlock wasn't so sure ‘minor healing’ abilities could handle such a wound; however, she had a medical bag next to her, and they did call her Doc. The omega could have been a doctor before becoming a witch.
Sherlock stood and watched as the other omega removed the metal from Del's side as he screamed and sobbed in pain. Ansel tried his best to soothe his partner.
"Fuck, it hit an artery," The blood that had been an ooze began to pool rapidly underneath them. "Roshanak, put him to sleep," She ordered her familiar. The name was Persian, roughly meaning bright or shining. Going by the size it was a safe deduction to assume that the familiar was a Persian Leopard.
Roshanak placed a large paw on Del and soon he fell asleep, familiar’s magic never appeared to her, perhaps because they were beings of magic, familiars could hide when they wished to but Sherlock could always see them. Sherlock did hope for Del's sake that it was a painless death. He had been useful many times, and Ansel would be useless for some time after Dels' passing. Sherlock bit her lip to keep any noise of surprise from slipping out as they watched the blonde witch stick her hand into the wound as it began to glow a bright golden light. The blood began to slow drastically as the nicked artery began to close. They removed their bloody hand and placed both on the outer wound, and both hands were bathed once more in the light. Del's flesh began to knit back together. That was no minor healing at all.
The blonde witch removed their hands and leaned against their familiar. Sherlock stepped out of the shadows and began to walk towards them, Roshanak watching her the entire time.
"Will Del be alright, Doc?”
"Yes, he will be just fine," She replied.
"Who's the friend you bought with you?" Roshanak spoke with a growl in her deep voice.
"Sherlock Holmes. I must say that was some impressive magic I just saw," Scalpels and a gun rose in the air, a haze of gold covering the objects pointing at Sherlock.
