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Sherlock stood and walked over to the edge of the boat. He felt his friends eyes upon him as he held the cloth that was splattered with blood. He looked at the water.

WAIT. The blood was still pinkish red. After the amount of time that the blood had been on the handkerchief, it should have been brown or black.

He looked back at the water. Salt water, when combined with old blood. He knew what the combination looked like. He tossed the handkerchief into the water and followed it with his eyes. It wasn't blood. Irene wasn't dead.

He smiled a tiny bit. Clever woman. He wouldn't make a scene out of his newfound discovery. She was alive, and she wouldn't be found if she didn't want to be found.

He would just have to be patient.

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I went over the scene at least twenty times in my mind, and this is what went through it. The slight smile on his face is what tipped me off.