We were in the lab and I noticed that Elizabeth had not pulled out her phone in quite some time, but I didn't ask. I didn't ask about it or about her. She was standing there across the table from me, watching as I looked into the microscope at whatever I was supposed to be concentrating on. Although, I have come to realize that I cannot possible even begin to concentrate while she is around and she just stands there. She stands there and doesn't say anything, because she knows. She knows the influence she has on me and she knows that I'm supposed to be concentrating, however she also knows that I'm not.
I looked up for a brief moment and caught her staring. When I looked back at my work she started walking toward Abby and spoke with her for a couple minutes. I stared at the thing I was looking at in the microscope but I still couldn't concentrate, the room was tense and Watson was making his way toward me, knowing full well that it never takes me this much time for me to make a conclusion. I looked up at Watson and scanned the room for her, but she wasn't there.
I looked down in the microscope one last time and I finally came to a conclusion.
"It's a tissue, probably flesh and from the looks of it, it came from a finger. Female or male? I can't say however it's hard enough to have come from somewhere close to the nail and seeing how there is a little bit of blood on it, I would say that that prediction is the most accurate. The skin on the outside is more dry and hard than the rest, meaning that this piece of tissue was already broken and dead before the rest of it-"
"So it came off if there was a struggle?"
"Precisely Watson. However, since we have no idea if the was a struggle or not-"
The door swung open and Elizabeth walked through. I couldn't help but look and stare. She was beautiful. Her boots clicked on the hard wood floor and her hair flowed behind her back. She was wearing a scarf which I didn't notice until now, although I should have since I notice all these details. Perhaps she just put it on to go outside or she just put it on to see if I would notice. Her jacket had little raindrop stain on it, buttoned up and tied around the waist, I couldn't see her dress underneath. However, I already know what her dress looks like from this morning. I couldn't stop looking at her scarf, it was the one that I gave her before she left for London. Red and black, hand knitted by Ms. Hutson, loved by her and from me.
"Actually Sherlock," she smiled at me. "I just got a call saying that we can confirm that the man was intact pushed off the tenth floor. There are no hand prints on his back, so they started thinking that he wore gloves. But then I got to thinking,"
She walked over to to the other side of the counter and faced me. Hands on the counter and looking straight into my eyes.
"If the man wore gloves. How could you have collected a tissue sample the presumedly came from his hands?"