Sherlock quickly grabbed his long coat, flicking his collar up as he looked at me with raised eyebrows.
He then stretched out his arm, offering for me to go ahead, which I did.
Sherlock called a quick 'goodbye' to Mrs Hudson and we then left.
We got into the nearest taxi and Sherlock showed me the text, giving me all of the details I needed thus far.
When we got to the crime scene, Mr Holmes was allowed straight in, though he had to stop and inform the guarding officer that I was with him. 

"Ah LeStrade. What have you got for me this time?" Sherlock asked, striding up to a man with greying hair and a suit. This was the man from Scotland Yard. He was always on the news. Not that I needed the news to tell me who he was...
"Victor Adilaide. Aged thirty, from Hackney. Found in the master bedroom of this place, of all places." Inspector LeStrade said before noticing me. "Who's this?"
"My new John. This one has some actual intelligence." Sherlock introduced... Sort of.
I smiled to LeStrade and held out my hand, which he shook. "Elizabeth Crane, Inspector. Ex-military police. Pleasure to meet you."
LeStrade gave me a friendly, yet nervous smile with a little curiosity thrown into the mix. Nervous, I deduced because of Sherlock. It was clear to anyone who knew Sherlock that we hadn't known each other long, but he was impressed with me enough to let me tag along on an investigation. I deduced the curiosity in is smile due to the fact that there had to be some reason in Sherlock's head that made him say I could join him on his crime fighting adventures, aside from the fact that I was ex Military Police.

LeStrade led us into the building we were to be investigating. It was an old house in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of London. Clearly Victorian. We were then led to the master bedroom, upstairs, where there laid a body. I looked to Sherlock and he beckoned for me to take the lead.

I knelt down next to the body as LeStrade gave the details of the murder.
"Single gunshot wound to the head - execution style, the clothes aren't his, they were put on him prior to his death." He started.
I looked at his clothes. He wore a fitted suit and a long coat, much like Sherlock's. His hair was dark brown and curly.
"What did he do?" I asked, examining his shirt collar.
"He was an MP. House of Commons." LeStrade informed me before turning to Sherlock. "I called you in because i'm not quite sure what to do with this one."
"There's a surprise." Sherlock sighed, heavily.
"The man was left here, all doors and windows locked, with a gunshot to the head and no gun." 
I looked around the room. It was completely empty, a part from the curtains hanging on the wall.
"Like an art display..." I mumbled to myself.
"What?" LeStrade asked.
"The way he's laid out. Nothing else in the room but a body, the center piece. Somebody wanted him to be found. The killer knew the house keeper was going to come in this morning and that why the killing happened last night. Any other night and the body would've been left to rot until today. No. The killer wanted this body to be found fresh."
"But how can there be a killer? All the doors were locked." One of the forensic investigators asked.
"Oh, don't be so stupid, Anderson. We've done this before, remember?" Sherlock spat.
Anderson gave a glare to Sherlock, then spread it onto LeStrade, who gave a careless shrug.
"Sherlock, have you noticed the clothes?" I asked.
He nodded.
"What about them?" Anderson asked.
"Someone took great care in these too. They're not cheap. Definitely not something he could afford. I believe the killer was stalking him before he killed him. Took his measurements and had these clothes made for him." I said.
"How do you know they're not his?" LeStrade asked.
"Again, he couldn't afford them. They're not a present. Anyone who was close enough to him to spend this kind of money on an outfit would've known he didn't dress so expensively. His job doesn't pay enough for that." I paused to undo his trousers and look at his underwear. "His briefs and socks were also newly bought. I strongly doubt he would've changed into such costly and clean clothing items just to be shot in the head with a seemingly, imaginary gun."  
"Oh great... As if one Sherlock wasn't enough..." Anderson mumbled.

As Sherlock an I got into the taxi to head back to Baker Street, I glanced to the man I had earlier been compared to.
"You did very well. I can honestly say I'm impressed." He said as he sat next to me in the vehicle.
"Thank you. I had a really good morning." I smiled. "Would you like to go for a coffee and compare deductions?"
Sherlock seemed to think about it for a second.
"I don't see why not."