London looked closer at the body, though he couldn't get a clear view of the victim as they're on their front. London kneeled down and gently placed his glove covered hands beneath the body before rolling it over. The dull thud that sounds as it topples over echoes in the night. 

It's a woman; she has lengths of blonde hair matted together and deep bruises covering her cold, freckled skin. Her eyes are closed, though it doesn't make her look peaceful. The skin of her neck completely shredded, any of it remaining stained dark with blood. Muscles and tissue have been ripped away. A jagged gash on display. She was nearly decapitated.

The scene, though unexpected in its violence, is not something London flinched away from. It was obvious how the poor woman was killed.
London's gaze continued to scan the woman. Storing away pieces of data in his Mind Palace for future reference before replacing the white sheet back over the bloodied and torn body.

"What are you doing here, freak?"

London's shoulders instantly hunch at the voice, and he rolls his head from side to side to release the sudden tension before standing and then turning to face the source of the call.

"As usual, your job...Officer".

The officer immediately walked over to London and stood in front of him, knowing it would make London move back and away due his hatred and fear of people getting to close to him.

"No-one asked you to be here but it really doesn't surprise me and you know why?"

London put his hands in his coat pockets. One hand coming to rest on a gun and the other on a bag of cocaine. Both he acquired on his way to the scene. 

"You're a freak. A psychopath..."

London quickly interrupted, a sinister smirk on his face.

"Again you're wrong. Do your research, Officer. I'm not a psychopath. I'm a High Functioning Sociopath. Big difference."

The officer took another step towards London, a look of rage on his face at being interrupted and called out by London. Again.

"Whatever freak. You always show up because you get off on it. One of these days, though, showing up won't be enough will it? One of these days, which I think has already been reached, you'll be responsible for one these bodies. And if you're, I will not hesitate to throw your ass in the deepest, darkest hole. Not even that brother of yours will be able to get you out."

London was just about to respond when another voice stopped him. A voice he knew all too well and so did the officer. It was Inspector Cruz. A man that London had no doubt about being on his brothers never ending payroll designated to babysit and keep him from getting "bored" and turning to other things, like drugs. London really had no problem with the man. He treated London like a human being. He often asked for his help and never questioned him or his methods. And saved his ass more times than he was willing to ever admit.

"Enough! Both of you. Officer Donovan, I requested Mr Holmes' presence here, so kindly step down. Now go and join the other Officers and start looking for possible witnesses or evidence."

Officer Donovan gave London one final glance before walking away, mumbling the entire way. London in a moment of childish behavior, waved bye to him as he walked. The Inspector failing to hide a slight chuckle.

"I would apologize for his behavior but I know you won't listen, so I won't even bother. Instead I shall ask if you have got anything for me?"

London and the Inspector walked back over to the covered body.

"I have acquired several pieces of data. Beginning with... there's no blood anywhere. If she was killed here we would walking through a river of mud and blood. There's no signs of a struggle. Nothing has been disturbed in any way. There's only one set of fresh footprints, besides ours and Donovan's of course, which indicates she was carried here and judging by the size and length of steps, it's a standard military boot, at least a size 10. Whoever is responsible also has a limp, left leg, possibly shrapnel related, putting their gait out of line."

Inspector Cruz looked from the bloodied body under the sheet to London. Knowing better than to question the "Consulting Criminal" instead choosing to lean down and move the sheet from the woman's face. London seeing what he was going to do, quickly stopped him.

"Wait, Inspector..."

But it was too late. Inspector Cruz had moved the sheet and recoiled back.

"Who or what could've done this? Holmes, have you seen anything like this before?"

London couldn't bring himself to meet the Inspector's eyes, so he let his head and eyes drop to the ground at their feet. He knew exactly who AND what was responsible.

"Holmes? Are you okay?"

Instead of replying, London reached into his pocket and careful to avoid pulling out his stash of cocaine, his fingers found a piece of paper that he had taken from the body before Officer Donovan showed up. With his head still focused on the ground, London handed the piece of paper to the Inspector. It was bloodied and torn but the two words stood out like the stars in the sky. 

MISS ME?

"Miss me? What's that suppose to mean?"

It was now or never. London lifted his head but still avoided eye contact with the Inspector, choosing to look behind him at the body instead. Quietly he confessed what he knew before he even found the note. 

"You asked me 'Who or what could've done this? and if 'I had seen anything like this before?' Well I know because I have seen it before. That note was left for me." 

Still not fully understanding what London was saying, the Inspector took another look at the note then turned to join London to face the body once more.

"Care to elaborate or are you going to force me to handcuff you right now and haul you to the station for official questioning. Choice is yours."

Did he admit to being an enabler behind the behavior of the one responsible? Or did he admit his failure in refusing to stop it because he couldn't stand to lock away the one thing, one person who truly kept his mind focused and made him feel so alive, something that only once seemed possible via cocaine. He was as torn as the piece of paper with that damn taunt scribbled upon it. 

"I can't tell you everything just yet but I can tell you something. As you know, I was pretty much exiled from England and sent here to America by my brother under the guise of rehabilitation and a better life. While that is somewhat true, it's not the whole truth. One I shall not admit to here. It's neither the time or place. So I beg of you, please don't leave this poor woman here alone, stay here until the coroner arrives and then come and find me. You know where."

The Inspector tried to speak out at London as he walked away but no words came forward. He was stunned into silence. All he could do was what London told him. As much as it unnerved him, he would stay with the body until it was collected. Then he was going to move as fast as his legs could and find London.

The Inspector tried to speak out at London as he walked away but no words came forward. He was stunned into silence. All he could do was what London told him. As much as it unnerved him, he would stay with the body until it was collected. Then he was going to move as fast as his legs could and find London.

It had taken longer than Inspector Cruz would've liked but the body of the woman was collected and now on the way to the morgue. Now it was time to go and find the "Consulting Criminal" and get the answers he claimed to have, a claim that the Inspector did not doubt but still worried him. 

London was true to his word and the Inspector found him roughly 10 minutes after leaving the gruesome scene. It was a long abandoned building that was once a pharmacy, of course London would choose to seemingly make it his own personal hideout. 

Opening the door, the Inspector walked further into the darkness and called out.

"Alright, Holmes. Come on out. Let's get this over with."

The Inspector waited several tense moments. The only sound to be heard was the beating of his heart and his breathing, both which seemed to get louder the longer London made him wait.

"You may live to regret that, Inspector."

Inspector Cruz's head whipped around so fast at the sound of London's voice coming from behind him that London could almost hear the sounds of whiplash.

"Jesus! How the hell do you do that?"

London didn't reply instead walked behind a very dusty and battered counter and sat down behind it, motioning for the Inspector to do the same. The Inspector followed as soon as his heart rate and breathing returned to normal. The two men sat in silence. Neither seemed willing to break it until one could no longer take it.

"Start talking, London."

London let out a breath. The Inspector had used his first name, something he only did when he was desperate or annoyed. He was currently both.

"I was telling you the truth when I said I was exiled from England at my brothers request. You know about my drug addiction and numerous failed attempts at rehabilitation and a total disregard for a so called better life. That body and message was another reason, perhaps the greatest. This is not the first time its happened. It all started back in England several years ago. I never realized it at the time that becoming the worlds only "Consulting Criminal" would draw such attention but before I knew it I had followers and not entirely for the right reasons. People were doing all kinds of things just to get my attention. One person in particular went above and beyond. At first it started out innocently enough but it quickly escalated. The more I ignored them, the more it angered them until one night they decided to do something about it. A deadly game of cat and mouse was set into motion. It was a game that I allowed myself to be dragged into and keep playing as long as..."

London trailed off and let his head fall to his chest. Suddenly unsure if he could, if he should continue. If he finished the sentence he was certain he would sign his death certificate with the man who like so many others placed so much faith in him to do the right thing despite who he truly was.

"As long as what, Holmes?"

The Inspector almost sounded scared and London didn't blame him. He often scared himself with what he was capable of doing. Deep down he knew he deserved all the names people called him. Just like he also knew deep down that the Inspector perhaps more than anyone he had come across in a long time, deserved the truth and to be rid of London Holmes. Raising his head once more, he spoke the words he never thought he'd admit out aloud ever again.

"As long as it kept me entertained."

The cold and swift tone which London delivered his confession had shocked Inspector Cruz. He knew how much it hurt London to admit defeat and failure without actually saying the words but this was something else entirely and that's what shocked and scared him the most. As much as he knew he'd regret it he needed to know what he meant. He needed to know how far things went and how many more bodies would be added and exactly why London couldn't or wouldn't do anything to stop it.

"What do you mean? I know you are capable of many things but are you saying, are you admitting that you actually enabled the behavior of a cold blooded murderer so you could keep from getting...bored?"

The Inspector sounded like a child who had been told Santa Clause didn't exist or their puppy really didn't go to heaven and was instead rotting in the ground.

"That's entirely correct."

Several long seconds ticked by in a deafening silence as Inspector Cruz processed the three simple words that London had spoken seemingly without a care in the world. 

"I may be on the side of angels, Inspector, but I've never claimed to be one. "

London may have denied it but Cruz knew different. He wasn't evil. He was a good man and someday he would become a great one. He brought light into the deepest darkest depths and hope when none should've been found.

"I was so desperate. People were coming to me with the same mundane problems. With each passing day and night I was being suffocated. I couldn't stand it. So through my homeless network I let it be known, I wanted the word to spread that I wanted to be challenged. I wanted someone to prove they deserved my attention..."

Inspector Cruz didn't even bother to hide his disgust.

"So you willingly sent an open invitation out to all of England to commit acts of murder for your amusement? My god, Holmes. I don't care how bored you were. What did you possibly think would happen?"

He was hoping to become a victim. He was hoping to die in order to feel alive but he wouldn't let the Inspector know that.

"Nothing happened to begin with. Days, weeks and months went by and I was forced to resume the same boring and mundane pattern. I took any case, any problem, any puzzle. I was used and abused. I was the hunter and the hunted. When no-one needed me I fell back into other habits. It was a vicious cycle. Then one night a knock came at my door. Upon answering it, I found nothing except a envelope and inside it held piece of paper that read..."

'I'm simply doing what comes naturally. Swooping down and consuming the flesh that you've left exposed.'

"I ignored it and went back to my vials and syringes of cocaine and morphine. The following morning I was awoken by another knock at my door and before I knew what was happening, the Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard was standing in my living room and he was in quite the state. In his hand he held a small box and insisted that I open it. Which I did and what I found inside, I was overcome with a strange sensation. Inside the box was something wrapped in a bloodied piece of newspaper and wrapped up inside it was a heart. A human heart."

London heard the intake of breath from the Inspector, he could feel the tension pouring from him. He could smell the fear in the air but he couldn't stop now. He was in too deep.

"And the bottom of the box held another note. This time it read..."

'Please do not break it.'