You give Love a bad name.

"I had no reason to kill Paladin Traven!" The small elf stated firmly, his voice showing obvious signs of panic and confusion as beads of sweat slid down his narrow face. "You have to believe me! I don't remember it all!"
The detective sitting across from the table leaned forward, his short dwarven frame counteracted by the fearsome scowl that caused the taller elf to shrink and shake. "We found you holding the sword that killed him." He said in a low feral voice. "And the warlock confirmed you weren't under any spells at the time so, if it wasn't you, how do you explain that?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" The elf squeaked. "I don't remember anything before you threw me into the police car!"

"He didn't do it"
I jumped at the cold feeling of specter passing through my body at materializing beside me. "Why do you say that?" I ask the faint figure standing next to me looking through the one-way glass.
"Look at his eyes, his voice, he genuinely doesn't know what happened."
"The Warlock on the scene said he wasn't under any spells," I replied, watching as the inspector stood on the table and stomped across it to shout at the terrified elf. "Are you sure he's not just playing dumb?"
My spectral companion shook his head. "Have you learned nothing from me or your father Watson?" He made a sighing sound. "Look at the evidence."
"He was at the crime scene, was covered in the victim's blood, had the weapon used to kill the victim...."
"And yet you miss the evidence he wasn't guilty."
I shrugged. "Anyone can fake an expression, especially when they're a bard."
"Ask for a blood test."
"You are convinced he didn't do it aren't you?"
The specter nodded. "And you should be too, your father would have seen what I see."
"I'm not my father! I'm his daughter and you don't start remembering that you can go haunt someone else!"
"Go get Hooper." My companion ordered abruptly, I assume to avoid a conversation about my late father and my outburst.

As I walked into the station room I saw a young woman sobbing, a tall Aasimar police officer was sitting next to her and holding her, upon seeing me he stood and walked over. "Hey, has he plead guilty yet?"
I shook my head. "No, he says he doesn't remember doing it, but I think it's an open and shut case."
"Good, good." The officer nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Watson. Ms. Traven will be glad to hear at least her husband will get justice."
"Is she all right Officer Jarzen?" I asked, seeing the woman's devastated expression.
He nodded. "I'll take care of her, don't worry."



The basement was a lonely place, dark stones, and heavily curtained windows made it feel like one of those ancient dungeons I'd seen documentaries about, I half expected a Goblin to leap out at me and attack me, instead, one simply walked past me, his face buried in stacks of financial papers. The Morgue room itself was painted a sterile white, yet only a small red light in the ceiling illuminated the room, casting haunting shadows across the tables covered in cadavers.

"Molly?" I called out, a haunting echo reverberating through the room. A shape moved quickly above one of the bodies and towards one of the walls.
"Stay there! I'll be with you in a moment!" A cold voice said, and I saw the shape grab something from the wall, a moment later bright white lights came on, illuminating the room and its sole living occupant, though I suppose living was relative. "Oh, Jei! I hope you didn't run into anything!"
I shook my head, looking at the figure striding towards me. She was tall and whispy, clad in a long white medical coat and head covered in a flowing white hood. What could be seen of her face behind a silk mask was pale and her eyes glowed a sickly yellow. "I hope I didn't interrupt?"
She shook her head, "No." She asserted as a small red drop of blood slid out from under her mask. "Just testing to see if the dead Druid detective Graves brought in was poisoned."
"And?"
"He was delicious." The Vampire replied before clearing her throat. "And not poisoned, unless you count THC as poison." She continued quickly. "So you had something you needed?"
"Sherlock needs you to test someone's blood, he thinks he's innocent," I replied, my voice a little harsh sounding. "I think he's guilty."
Molly tilted her head, either curious or disappointed I couldn't tell. "I've known Sherlock for centuries, he's a pain in the neck but he's usually right. I'll have a look."

"Martha," Sherlock's voice called out as we approached the viewing window.
"Molly, I've known you since you were breathing, you could at least remember my name."
The Ghostly figure turned back to the window. "I've been listening to Detective LesStrong for awhile, and I'm now certain this elf didn't intentionally kill Paladin Traven."
I looked over to see LesStrong was pacing on the table and the elf was looking the size of a Gnome. "You have something more than just his eyes?"
My Ghost companion nodded. "While you were gone I learned that our unfortunate bard is an utter coward."
"So?"
"So Watson, why would a coward brutally attack not only a Paladin, but a Paladin as intimidating as Paladin Traven?"
I shook my head. "You're right, it'd be stupid of him. But he still killed him."
"A cowardly bard one night decides to take down a Paladin twice his size, then has no memory of the incident." Sherlock looked at me, his haunting eyes looking into my head as though trying to put the answer there. "Either our Warlock was wrong about him being not being under a spell, or it was a potion."
"What Potion could it be?" Molly asked in her haunting voice.
"I'm hoping you could tell us."


"Just look into my eyes and relax...." Molly said in a calm voice as the Elf leaned as far away as he could.
"No! No! I want my Lawye.......... You're, uh, wow." He brushed his hair back. "Wanna, maybe get a drink sometime, I play Bass."
Molly leaned forward. "I'll bet you have a strong arm."
"Yeah, it's pretty strong." The Elf said, extending his arm. "I've been working on a six OWCH!" He suddenly shouted as Molly bit into his arm and let go. "OOWWWWWWWWWW That really hurt!" He shouted, tears forming in his eyes. "Why'd you have to do that? Is there something wrong with my arm?" He continued as Molly left the room and rejoined me and Sherlock.
"Well?"
"He was slightly tipsy when he stabbed Traven, but not blackout drunk. I tasted blackberry wine, bad blackberry wine. Judging from the sweetness of his blood he's at diabetes risk but........."
"What?"
Molly hesitated. "There's an odd taste, but it doesn't taste like any of the usual poisons, it's unfamiliar to me."
"Can you describe it?" I asked, perhaps Sherlock was right about this case.
The Vampire tilted her head, "It tasted like a smell, like perfume?"
"Watson, would you say a potion could be used to control someone?" Sherlock asked turning away from the window.
I nodded. "Yes, sort of. Not directly control but you could influence someone's behavior."
"We need to find where he got that Blackberry Wine, see if we can pull security tapes. He performed at the Enchanted Forest the night of the murder, best place to start," Sherlock stated before turning to Molly. "Thank you Maxine, if you could I'll send a list of potions for you to try before we get back."

The Enchanted Forest Pub was a small affair, and as we entered we saw staff cleaning tables and preparing for the evening, floral decorations and wood construction made it clear why an elf would be asked to perform here, it certainly lived up to its name.
"Can I help you?" An elfin maiden dressed in a flowing green dress asked as she walked up to us. "If you're looking for drinks I'm afraid we're closed until seven, but you're welcome to come back then, we're having Lindor...."
I cleared my throat, "I'm afraid he's in police custody at the moment. He murdered a Paladin last night."
The Elf's jaw hung open for a moment, "He murdered a Paladin? Are you sure? Lindor wouldn't hurt a fly!"
"Did he happen to drink while he was here?"
"Yes, after his performance he met with someone and shared a drink."
"Can you describe them?"
She shook her head. "No, sorry, I didn't get a good look, they were in one of the booths."
"And their security footage?"
She shook her head again. "Nothing that would face that booth." She paused as though remembering something. "He did smash an entire bottle of wine on the table and run off abruptly, we have to broken bottle in the trash, we could get it."

"You want me to what?" I asked in disgust.
Sherlock's ghost pointed to the broken bottle. "I can't taste anything, you can."
I sighed and picked up a fragment of glass, "Fine, fine, fine." I huffed, pressing my tongue against the inside of the broken bottle. "It's definitely blackberry wine but, I taste something else, like perfume."
The ghost nodded. "I need to know exactly what you feel right now."
"What?" I hesitated, "I feel like," I paused again.
"Watson, this is important! I need to know exactly what you feel!"
I swallowed. "Did you see Ms. Traven at the station? The victim's wife?"
"Yes"
"I feel like I should ask her out, she's single now right?"


*TO BE CONTINUED*