[ They've just finished interviewing the dresser, Sophie, part-time employee at the company whose daytime occupation is as a theatre major at the local university and although she couldn't tell them much, she did tell them that Alice had changed in the weeks leading up to her death, had become increasingly frantic, nervous and upset, like she were finally cracking under the pressure. Nothing that couldn't be explained away as yet another artistic mind lost to stage life, but at the same time, Sophie made a point of saying that it wasn't Alice's usual demeanour at all. She was the calm, collected one, always. John frowns, following Sherlock down the hallway towards the stage, past a whole row of dressing rooms, glimpsing a pair of men in belts on his right hand and on his left -- Sherlock happens to slow down at that exact moment. Don't bloody well tell him he saw the girls in various stages of undress and thought to himself, better check on them, they look cold or something equally ridiculous. No, for Sherlock's it's no doubt case related while John's -- somewhat busy trying not to stare too much at the four girls getting into very tight fitting bodices and no tutus yet. One of them happens to be Kathy and she clocks him immediately, making a show of pinning her hair into the recognisable ballet bun they all use around here. She leaves the rest of the girls to discuss the redhead's belly button piercing (is the pendant new? so pretty in --) and walks over, looking John up and down. He swallows, purses his lips, then promptly stops pursing them because she seems to read something into absolutely everything. Hi Dr Watson, she says. He manages a strained smile. ]

Hello.