<a class="postlink" href="http://s1346.photobucket.com/user/gthicbellydancer/media/image_zpsc6e677ee.jpg.html"></a><a class="postlink" href="http://i1346.photobucket.com/albums/p695/gthicbellydancer/image_zpsc6e677ee.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/>Name: Rea Holmes<br/>Age: 20<br/>Height: 5 feet<br/>Personality: A loner, cleaver, deductive. She doesn't sympathize with her clients. She cares more for the case than the victim. She is not very sociable. The small woman can be rude and inconsiderate of others, though is very brave as well.<br/><br/>Background: A brilliant young woman, she became obsessed with detective work at a young age. She was a prodigy with deductive reasoning and the violin. She absorbs herself into her work, not wanting anything else. When she has free time, she can be found composing music, or playing the violin. She has an older brother, though doesn't keep contact with her family. She lives in a flat in London, which she also works from on Baker Street. The young woman can often be found consulting for Scotland Yard, or taking private cases. She has a bad habit of drinking coffee, and smoking. She does drink from time to time, though not very often.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">------------------------------------------------------</div><br/><br/>The hospital appeared clean to her, well maintained, sterile. That was what she first noticed anyway, though she could soon spot that there was some blood, could hear crying, could hear mothers trying to comfort sick or injured children in the waiting room. Her steps were quick as she went to the visitors entrance, her black hair flowing behind her. That chilly morning, she found herself wearing a black coat and a thick, dark scarf that hid a bit of her face. Her eyes appeared almost bored as she walked through the hall, coming to a stop at one of the rooms.<br/><br/>Another victim, third one in a week. It was either some kind of outbreak, or some poison. She had figured out that much within the first three minutes of the commissioner asking for her assistance. She would consult with the doctor, interview the victim, gather any information she could. The other two were already dead. Nothing she could do about that. Maybe she could poke around the morgue, maybe take a look at the bodies. She walked into the room, not bothering to announce herself as she stepped inside, her black leather boots tapping the floor softly. She was dressed simply, grey leggings ran along her slender legs, a pleated, black skirt covered a bit by the coat could be seen falling to about mid thigh. She was small, but she didn't let her size bother her.