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"Have you ever looked at this site where people confess things? Some of them are pretty hair-raising, sometimes." John waved at the screen of his laptop, hoping to distract Sherlock from his bored pacing.
Sherlock glanced at the screen on his way to the window. "Matthew's just a common stalker."
"Hm?" John looked back at the page.
"Look at it. He's not admitting his crime, he's admitting someone else's; hoping to get her in trouble. He randomly capitalizes two words - 'she,' obviously because 'she' looms in his mind, and 'met.' Only why would he give that word a double 't?' It was positioned on the card where he might normally have put his name - he's signing it, subconsciously. Probably the child isn't his, there was no affair, he just had an unrequited crush that went sour. Stalker mentality."
John looked back at the Post Secret with a slight shake of his head. Of course there would be no follow-up to prove the deductions, the card was aggressively American and obviously not an interesting enough crime to distract Sherlock - he had been done with it before he'd reached the window, where he now stood moodily glaring out at the rain, obviously feeling that the effort it had taken to compose a few sentences to illuminate the secret for John had been a waste of his time.
"I suppose we could try to warn all of the female teachers in Lexington, Kentucky," John muttered, almost to himself, and did not see the slight lift to one corner of Sherlock's mouth.
