docwithablog | storyline one.

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[ Luckily, he's already looking away by the time John declares that they're here to investigate. The girl in question blinks, comes awake almost abruptly, though she doesn't look even the slightest bit nervous or preoccupied with the implications. Looking back at her, this time out of the corner of his eyes, she seems to exhibit... very nearly no reaction at all which, when you look at the other girls, is an oddity. Stands out, in a quiet, mostly unnoticeable way.

As Kathy leads John over to dressing table (poor John, having to get all busy with the half-naked women - ugh, for god's sake), Sherlock looks around the room quickly (noticing the jewelry boxes again, something about that - a common denominator - oh, but Amber Verity didn't have any belly button pieces, did she? Otherwise, she would have been an obvious first choice for experimentation but then again, she did have a cat). Meanwhile, he listens. Learns, amongst other things, that going on holiday to the Maldives seems to be all the rage amongst the girls, that something called Freed is superior to Grishko (?) and most importantly, that the Girl Who Blends In is in fact called... Emilia.

Emilia.

He throws one last look at John, then leaves him to fend for himself as he heads for the upstairs dressing rooms quickly. ]

[ Sherlock is the first to leave, obviously. Can't rightly expect anything better from him and John turns his head, then turns his head a little bit more while the man disappears out the door in a swish of long coat and a last glimpse of cheekbones. Shit. As soon as he's gone, Kathy gives the other three girls a very telling, very demanding look and although John's fairly certain he didn't actually see her name on the door to the dressing room, the other three girls giggle and smile and give him what could be pitying looks as they collect their things and leave as well, one of them turning her head in the doorway and looking Kathy over one last time.

Meanwhile, Kathy pats the dressing table next to her as if inviting him to sit and John frowns now, because she might be pretty and in some stage of undress that he doesn't usually work with unless to do one of two things, but he also happens to be a professional, okay. He's here on the job and she isn't his job right now, nor his problem, where the hell did Sherlock go? She spreads her legs some more, there's the hint of a mole on the inside of her thigh, not big, normal colouration, except it looks stark in contrast because she's so pale. He turns away slightly, presenting her with his side, crossing his arms over his chest like some sort of shield. There's still fifteen minutes till the performance begins, she tempts. ]

Yeah, I'm going to decline, I'm afraid. Wouldn't want to take away from your focus.

[ There is a second where her expression changes, looks even younger, looks even paler, then she shrugs. Come on, she repeats, maybe I just don't want to think about it. John blinks, turns back towards her again. ]

[ The names on the door says Kathy Brown and Emilia Phelps and it's unlocked, happily, saving him a few precious seconds. He barges in, going directly for the closets, deducing quickly that Emilia would probably have the side of the room farthest from the window (doesn't complain, wants to remain inconspicous, probably a docile mind if you don't dig too deep). The bed is tucked away in a somewhat dark corner along with a small closet and he throws it open (inexpensive clothes, some of it retail, light but unobtrusive colour choices, she'd disappear in absolutely any crowd, anywhere), noting a bag hidden away at the very back. He grabs it, opens it very, very carefully.

It's chockful of plastic bags, containing dried petals in shocking pink and purple as well as leaves. He smiles to himself, sharply. Yes. Straightening up, he rummages through her things (signs of chemical stains on her outer wear, methanol, explains the rash on her finger - got careless, didn't she), her dressing table before glancing at Kathy's side of the room. Her most recent belly button piercing is on display, the ruby-like jewels glinting. Frowning, he steps closer. Picks up the piercing (gloves on) and sniffs it. Ugh. No doubt at all, then. None whatsoever.

He grabs his phone. John needs to know, now. The show has already begun. ]

storyline one.

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