Entry 8

Shirleigh stood firm in the centre of the room as the officers mumbled amongst themselves.

"Oi," Gregson stepped forward. "What do you mean-"

Before she could finish her question, I held my arm out to stop her in place. She turned her attention to me and I tried to convey through facial expressions to be patient. Her shoulders slumped and she folded her arms.

"The blood, of course, does not belong to that of a human," Shirleigh said suddenly, breaking the temporary silence.

Approaching the scrawls just above a cart that carried medical instruments, Shirleigh reached her hand out, her fingertips gracing the wall. After doing so, she examined her hands and placed her face within mere millimetres of the mysterious writings. The officers behind Lestrade and me began whispering and there was a visible shift in Shirleigh's body language, going from concentrated to obviously frustrated. She flexed her phalanges and the muscles in her shoulders grew tense. Only after I had shot a fierce glance at the policemen behind us, did they silence themselves and my companion had become relaxed once more.

As I shut the door to keep the chatterboxes from interrupting any further, Shirleigh jumped on the large desk that was pressed against the Northern wall, startling both me and Gregson.

"Tell me, Watson, what gives human blood its colour?"

"Oh, um, well, our blood consists of haemoglobin, a protein that carries oxygen throughout our bodies. A protein called heme can be found in haemoglobin molecules and contains iron. When the iron comes into contact with oxygen, our blood becomes bright red."

"Lovely," she said, turning to face us. "Now, do you know what it is that makes blood blue?"

I shook my head.

"Instead of haemoglobin, some creatures have haemocyanin molecules," she explained, placing her hands on her hips. "It serves the same purpose, but in place of iron, their blood consists of copper, turning it blue rather than red when it meets oxygen."

"Amazing!" I exclaimed. "But, what sort of creatures have the kind of blood that you speak of? If not humans, then some kind of animal? There are so many..."

"Phylum Mollusca," she said, pointing a finger in the air. "Such creatures are the only ones to have blue blood."

"Mollusca?" Lestrade mumbled. "Like, molluscs? So, scallops, clams...?"

"Those, constable," my friend said, jumping down from the desk. "Are all in the class Bivalvia. The creature we're looking for is a gastropod."

"Slugs and snails, then?" I asked. "How on Earth were you able to narrow it down so much in such little time?"

"The cause of death of our victim."

"The cause of death?" Lestrade exclaimed. "You've figured it out?"

"Of course," Shirleigh said casually. "But it would be unwise to tell you anything further without first confirming my findings. I will have to take samples of the blue blood back to my flat for in-depth testing. Only after that, will I be able to inform you of what brought our victim to her untimely end."

Gregson folded her arms and lowered her head in thought. She hummed for a moment before lifting her head again.

"Fine," she stated. "Go for it. If it means that we can close this case, you can take whatever you need. But what about the writing? It's not English..."

"It is Italian," Shirleigh told her. "I am afraid it is one language I am not currently studying, so I will have to research it as well."

Gregson nodded in understanding.

"If I may ask, constable," I started. "Why are you so adamant about solving this murder? From what I have heard, the force doesn't appear to care about solving crimes at the moment. You and Lestrade, however, seem to oppose those ways."

"It's true," said Gregson. "Ever since the new chief took office, crime has been the last thing on his mind. He only cares about the status and authority of being at the top, using his power to threaten those of us who don't follow his orders. Some of our colleagues have even turned crooked under his reign. It's awful. We became officers to serve and protect and to see those who started out with the same mindset do the exact opposite... it hurts."

"So you and Lestrade...?"

"Are trying to maintain some of the people's trust," Gregson sighed. "Trying to give them a bit of hope."

There was a lull before she continued.

"I greatly appreciate your help. The both of you. I highly doubt I would have been able to even get this far. Probably would have ruled it as a suicide via poisoning or something."

Gregson chuckled to herself in more of a self-deprecating manner than a joking one.

"We'd best be off then if you want to see this case to an end," said Shirleigh, returning from one of the walls with a clear container in her hands. "I shall get back to you tomorrow morning. We will meet back here just before noon."

"Thank you," Gregson folded her hands together. "I'll be doing some research of my own in the meantime."

"Right then. Watson, let's head back."

Following in my friend's footsteps, I took a last glance around the living space before making our way down the stairs and through the ornate front doors. Shirleigh held the container close to her nose, squinting at the blue specks inside, not speaking a word until we arrived at the station.

"That was astonishing!" I said, finding a window seat.

"Hm?"

Shirlerigh sat across from me as she usually did and threw her long legs on the seat next conjoined to hers. Her head rested upon her chest and she folded her hands atop her abdomen. I found that she usually assumed this pose when she was relaxed. Or at least, that's what I have chalked it up to. I am unsure if she is ever truly relaxed.

"The way you were able to shed light on such a dark mystery," I told her, full of excitement. "There was absolutely no chance I would have figured out that the blue writings on the wall were actually written in blood!"

"You simply do not have the knowledge of that which I do," she said, her feet swinging back and forth. "What you do have, however, is knowledge in a subject that I am most unfamiliar with. In fact, it may be the reason we even solve this strange murder which we investigate."

"What? Really?" I asked, shocked. "But, I do not recall doing anything of note today."

"The subungual haematoma," Shirleigh turned her head to look at me. "The procedure that you described, trephination, was it? That was how our victim was killed. I lack familiarity with human anatomy and even more so with medical procedures. I must admit, if you were not with me, I would have had the utmost difficulty bringing this case to a close."

I stared at my friend, completely baffled. I believe this was the first time she had verbally and so obviously expressed her appreciation for something. Anything. It wasn't that she wasn't appreciative of other things, I think she just has a hard time showing or saying so.

"What is it?"

My friend's eyebrows were raised inquisitively as the icy orbs in her head stared into mine.

"Nothing," said I, shaking my head. "I am just glad that I could be of some assistance."

Shirleigh shifted in her spot and closed her eyes once more.

Retrieving the laptop from my satchel, I typed away at the keys until we reached our destination in beautiful Stratford.

»»————-　♔　————-««

The two of us entered the Palace a quarter after one, just in time for lunch, I thought to myself. The lobby was quite busy with several of the residents chatting, people leaving and others arriving from shops and bakeries.

"Welcome back," Mr. Hudson smiled as we approached. "I hope all went well."

"Quite," Shirleigh replied, curtly.

Mr. Hudson pushed forward a white, styrofoam cup with a straw and Shirleigh snatched it on her way to the staircase not without expressing her gratitude.

"Oh, and Shirleigh," Mr. Hudson called out. "You missed her again."

My flatmate let out an audible disgruntled sigh.

"You mean, she missed me," Shirleigh said. "Tell her to stop coming here when I am not."

"She will be here later this evening."

"..."

Shirleigh leaned against the wooden handrail with the cup in her hand. She stared at Mr. Hudson, squinting as if she was calculating something.

"Fine," she reluctantly said after a while.

She trudged up the stairs and I waved at Mr. Hudson before inevitably following behind her.

"What's that?"

"Smoothie."

"So you do eat! How come this is the first time I'm seeing you with one?"

"Eating and drinking are two entirely different actions," Shirleigh told me, opening the door to our flat. "Eating requires the breaking down of food by chewing with the teeth. I am not 'eating'. And perhaps you are just not observant."

I huffed. "Why are you so stubborn when it comes to 'not eating' anyway?"

"At this point, it is simply because I know it ruffles your feathers."

Taken aback, I chased after her as she slinked into our residence. She had already seated herself at the worktable where she often conducted a plethora of experiments. She has told me in the past that most of her scientific knowledge comes from her studies in chemistry. She believes that it is the most important science and the only one worth devoting her time to. It is all around us and we are constantly involved through our senses. Everything is a chemical reaction. By studying chemistry, one can determine what matter is made of, how bonds are formed, and why certain objects are a result of those bonds. Or something along those lines. I'm more of a life science person myself.

That being said, it was always fascinating to watch as she worked with the various instruments and the amount of patience and focus she exhibited was astounding.

After tossing my satchel onto the sofa, I pulled up a chair across from Shirleigh and watched with great interest as she examined the samples she took from the manor earlier today. She would carefully remove some of the contents from their clear container using tweezers and carefully place them 0nto a slide. Taking a cover slip between her index fingers, she gently lowered it onto the sample before securing the slide under the stage clips of her microscope. As she stood to look through the eyepiece, her slender fingers travelled between the two knobs on the side of the magnifying tool to ensure the best possible adjustment.

She studied it for several minutes, jotting down notes in shorthand, making them impossible to decipher for someone such as myself.

"Would you like to look?"

Shirleigh unglued herself from the microscope, extending an arm as she stepped toward the kitchen hallway. I gazed into the eyepiece and was instantly filled with intrigue. There were numerous blobs and disk-like shapes that I presumed to be the blood cells of whatever animal was used to leave behind the cryptic messages at the crime scene. I had seen human blood under a microscope when studying in school but this experience felt different from those times. Maybe it was because this was something that I shared with one other person and no one else.

"Wow," I whispered, folding my hands behind my back to be certain that I didn't alter the adjustments Shirleigh had made.

She returned wearing gloves and a few interesting tools in hand. She reached once more for the container that still housed some samples of the manor walls. She opened it and removed a clear divider making the contents at the bottom accessible. I noticed that it was more of the blood but in a more liquified state.

She took what looked like a pen and held the end in the blood, allowing it to soak into the tip. She removed it and placed the pen-like tool in what resembled a test tube rack. Throwing her gloves on the table, she sighed and collapsed onto the sofa.

"Now we wait."

"What are we waiting for?" I asked, looking at the blood.

"I need it to dry before I can proceed."

I returned to my original seat, folded my arms atop the table, and laid my head upon them staring at the bookshelves that lined the walls.

"Hudson was my legal guardian for several years," Shirleigh suddenly stated. "If you ask him, he still is. Though, he respects my privacy and boundaries like the adult that I am. He himself was quite young when he decided to look after me as his own. Our families were somewhat close, so when own heard news of the tragedies that befell mine, I suppose he felt that he had to assist in some way. He has helped me in more ways than I can count and I have yet to repay him for any of it."

Shocked by her sudden story, I couldn't quite bring myself to say anything in return. Then again, after listening to all she said, I still wasn't certain of what I actually should say. She had her arms stretched out above her, her fingers flexing as if she were casting a spell. There was something calm in her neutral expression, but I couldn't help but think there was something melancholic in it as well.

"Forgive me," she said, laying her arms by either of her sides. "Your silence urges me to speak. It is inviting, in a way. It makes you quite invaluable as a companion."

"I'll keep that in mind," I smiled.

"But I find the sound of your voice pleasing as well," she said, somewhat to herself. "It is quite the conundrum, isn't it?"

Suddenly, she jumped up to her feet and returned to her workstation, pulling on the gloves and retrieving the pen from the rack.

"I had my suspicions, but this confirms them while throwing more mystery into this curious case we have found ourselves entangled in."

Shirleigh stared at the results of all of her rigorous testing.

"What is it?"

"It is the blood of Conus ventricous," she replied. "Commonly known as the Mediterranean cone snail. A species of sea snail that is found in tropical and subtropical environments. Would you say that London is of tropical climate, Watson?"

"I wouldn't say so, no."

"And that is where a wrench is thrown into our plans," Shirleigh began to pace around the room. "I find it highly unlikely that the American would have brought a sea snail from across the pond. What reason would she have? Then there is the matter of the drawings and writings on the walls."

At that very moment, there was a knock at the door and Shirleigh flung it open. Mr. Hudson stood before her, a large folder in his hands.

"You may want to look over these," he said, handing them over to my flatmate and disappearing down the stairwell.

Shirleigh flipped through the papers, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Quite the wrench, indeed."

I tilted my head inquisitively.

"I'm afraid, Watson, that this has just become a double homicide."