As the rain pelted down on the dark and desolate streets of East London, it was as if the very heavens themselves had opened up to shed their tears upon the scene of the crime.

The air was heavy with the scent of mold and dampness, which didn't bothered Sherlock at all.

His blue, piercing eyes were carefully studied the alley, where two dead bodies with severed heads were sprawled.

"This is the fourth such case," Lestrade's voice came, who joined you two from behind, "Only this time there are two victims at once."

"Hm. Very interesting, indeed," Sherlock muttered, lowering on one knee. Lestrade only groaned in response, used to it.