Late Saturday night, John received an urgent call from Lestrade. "I can't get to Sherlock. Either tell him I need him at once or come yourself."
"Should I tell him why?"
"There's been a fourth murder. This one's been done within the hour."
"Something's wrong with this one," Lestrade informed them upon their arrival. "It's not done the same way."
"What do you mean?" John asked. Sherlock was bent over the body sprawled on the floor, hacked open like a Christmas goose. He answered in the D.I.'s stead: "This woman was not eviscerated. Not in the usual sense, that is. See here, the killer only opened her enough to remove her heart, which seems to be the signature move in these cases."
"Maybe it's a copycat murder," Lestrade surmised. "The papers have been on about this case for two weeks now; maybe someone wants attention."
"Let me do my job, Inspector," Sherlock chastened. "This is the same man, using the same weapon, but this time he was rushed. He knows