Trigger warning [drug abuse, mental illness]

"You're an idiot," I muttered, still reading my book. My music played from my phone beside me.

"Did she just call you an idiot?" The short man beside Sherlock asked. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at me. They had entered without warning, which was normal for Sherlock but I didn't know the man beside him.

"Yes, I do that quite often." I snapped the book close and stood from my chair. I stared at the short man standing slightly behind Sherlock. Old eyes on a young face. His hands steady and smooth. He wore a loose jacket over a tighter shirt and baggy jeans. Clothes made for moving around. I glanced at his shoes and noticed boots, worn and at least four years old. His hair was neat with product to keep it from getting messed up. His right eyes squinted more than his left, saying he was used to looking through a scoop. He stood stiffly yet it was like second nature to him. "A soldier, young so Afghanistan, Sherlock doesn't have friends but by the way your standing beside him I would guess you are the closest thing he has to one. A the very least you consider him a friend for whatever reason. Clever but simple-minded. Someone Sherlock can talk and show off to."

"Amazing." he breathed. "I'm Dr. John Watson."

"Monique Salvia." I bow my head at him before turning my attention to Sherlock. "What do you want, William?"

"Well, Sage. I need your help." he tilted his head at me. I grinned.

"Of course you do. You never make visits as friends." I knew the bitterness in my voice was clear but I refused to hide it.

"Sage?" John asked.

"It's her first name," Sherlock explained.

We glared at each other for a long minute. John stared at us, shifting his feet as he waited.

"Were you two once together?" He asked. I narrowed my eyes.

"No. He can't love someone if he tried." I snapped.

"Well, he is a psychopath." John shrugged.

"High functioning sociopath." We said at the same time.

"She is also a sociopath, just much better at hiding it," Sherlock added. I grinned and nodded.

"It's just so much more fun watching people grow more and more scared of you when they realize you don't feel the same level of empathy," I answered. John glanced at the door behind him and took a deep breath. "So you found a new pet, one that won't outsmart you?"

"You were never my pet." Sherlock snapped.

"No, I forgot, I was just a kid wanting a friend that understood me. But to you, I was a challenge, someone you had to outsmart every single day." I grit my teeth. He stared at me in silence. "Get out."

"Listen, Monique. We need your help." John stepped forward and handed me a file. I sat back in my chair with another shot of anger at Sherlock and opened it. "We only have an hour before he strikes again."

"A time limit. Fun." I mumbled. Three deaths. All male, about thirty-two, black hair and brown eyes. Killed by a knife in their gut. Puncturing the stomach causing septic shock. Killed at six o'clock. Found in their living room. No trace of a break in. "What was their family status?"

"All married. No kids."

"Any girlfriends?" I held up the pictures and stared at them.

"Actually yes. Jackson was dating a woman named Sarah Kelnity. Kerson was dating a woman named Hailey Tranks. Hemsworth was dating Katy Rahilens." John answered. I narrowed my eyes at the picture. The I grabbed a note book off my desk and scribbled down the names. Same letters. I moved them around before showing them to Sherlock.

"Lyra Katheins?" He asked.

"That's your killer. Same woman, dating multiple men. She kills the guys cheating on their wife with her, maybe even has a deal with the wives." I leaned back and handed the fire back to John. "I'm sure the wives found out about their husbands cheating habits. They gave you the name, knowing it wasn't her real name."

"Amazing." John breathed. He glanced at Sherlock and frowned. "Why couldn't you figure that out?"

"He knew it was the mistress. He just didn't know who." I stood and walked up to him. Staring at the heartless man. "You've never been good for anagrams."

"That's not it." He said. I stared at his eyes, noting the pupil dilation. I glanced at his jugular vein and noticed it moved faster.

"Right… you just don't understand human actions." I rolled my eyes and stepped back. "She'd be a younger woman, slim and put together. She might use colour contacts and wigs and has many apartments scattered about the city. Anything I'm missing, William?"

"I hate when you call me that."

"I hate when you visit me."

"You two are freaking me out," John said. I glanced at him and shrugged. I walked to the door and grabbed my jacket, pulling it on and nodding at the men. "You're coming?"

"I'm bored." I shrugged. I put my headphones in my phone and one earbud in my ear.

"How can you think with that racket?" Sherlock asked.

"Let's go, William." I sighed. John snickered behind his hand as he walked out the door. Sherlock stared at me, his eyes wide.

"You're mad." he mused.

"No shit, Sherlock. Move." I said, stepping out the door. John caught a cab for us. I slipped in first, sitting at the far window. John sat between us and Sherlock on the other side of him.

"How old are you?" John asked me.

"Eighteen," I answered.

"You're incredibly smart." He said. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Yep." I breathed. I stared out the window at the passing buildings.

"Are you in university?"

"No. Why go to a place where I could teach the lessons myself."

"So what do you do?"

"Same a Sherlock. But I get called in more because I'm not a huge ass."

"She's got a point, Sherlock." John glanced at him. I grinned out the window, subconsciously rubbing my left arm. "The police force hates you."

"And I hate them. It's a mutual hatred." Sherlock shrugged.

"They are all idiots." I agreed. "Though I like Greg, he's pretty smart."

"Who?"

"Lestrade."

"Oh."

"Idiot," I muttered again. We got to the police station and piled out.

"Monique. What a surprise." Greg said when we entered. I smiled and shook his hand.

"Lyra Katheins is your killer," Sherlock said.

"How do you know?" Greg asked.

"I know." I snapped at Sherlock before turning to Greg. "All the mistresses names are anagrams of Lyra Katheins."

"Ana-what?" He asked. I rolled my eyes.

"Anagrams. Where letters of one word are rearranged to form another word. Or in this case, another name." I explained.

"And he's the smart one?" Sherlock asked me.

"I will punch you, Sherlock," I warned without looking at him. "Bring her in."

"And if you're wrong?" Greg asked. I grinned at him. "Right, you're never wrong."

"Thank you. Now I'm grabbing a coffee. I haven't slept in three days." I pointed at the coffee maker before striding off.

"Three days?" John asked. I glanced back at him and grinned.

"She doesn't need sleep. She gets bored too fast." Sherlock muttered.

"Just like you," John asked. Sherlock stared at me but refused to answer. I fixed my cup before walking back over.

"By the way, how is Euros?" I asked. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Still locked away? Shame, she's a brilliant mind."

"She's crazy," John stated. I shrugged.

"All geniuses are," I answered. "A hundred years ago Sherlock and I would still be locked away in a mental asylum."

"Shut up, Sage," Sherlock growled. I tilted my head at John's confused look.

"Oh, he doesn't know… I see." I took a sip of my coffee.

"I don't understand." John glanced between us.

"You know they started making shirts with that saying on them. On the back, it says 'I still don't understand'." I told him. "You should get one and save your breath."

"Oh great, you're back." A new voice joined our conversation. I turned to see Sally Donovan approach us.

"There no need to be rude Sally." I grinned. "Where's Anderson? Did you two break up already?"

"Demon child." She hissed.

"Nope, just a sociopath. Sorry." I answered. "Though the child growing in your stomach may well be."

Her nostrils flared as she pressed a hand to her stomach before turning and rushing off.

"Wow. You two really are alike." John muttered. I tilted my head and shrugged.

"I used to be nice to her. Until she started calling me a demon child. Now I couldn't care less." I shrugged. "So, Euros. When can I see her?"

"I am going there tomorrow if you wish to accompany me." Sherlock sighed. I saw surprise flicker over John's face. I nodded.

"She confessed." Greg appeared beside me. "She in the interrogation room."

"Already?" I asked. I glanced at Sherlock and the same thought crossed our minds. "She's a cover."

"For the wives." Sherlock nodded. Greg sighed and rubbed at his forehead.

"What is going on?" John asked.

"There's one sleeve of the shirt." I grinned.

"Bring the wives back in. They're the real killers." Sherlock told Greg.

"I have a migraine." He muttered as he walked away.

"Can someone explain?" John asked.

"There's the other sleeve." I raised my eyebrows at him. He narrowed his eyes at me. "Lyra is covering for the wives who actually did the killing. She was hired to find out if they were cheating and set them up to be killed by their own wife. Impressive."

"Very." Sherlock nodded. "But not enough."

"Yes." I finished my coffee and threw it in the wastebasket.

"Monique? What are you doing here?" A new voice entered the conversation. "Hello, Sherlock."

"Bill, you got caught with drugs again, didn't you?" I asked him. He grinned and nodded. "A brilliant mind trapped in a druggie."

"I could say the same about your alcoholism." He pointed out. I shrugged in response. Stupid genius.

"Alcoholism?" Sherlock asked. I glanced at him and shrugged. "Sage?"

"Beats being sober and bored." I shrugged. Sherlock stared at me with sad eyes. "Don't give me that look."

"Sage…" He reached for my arm but stopped himself. I stared at his hand before turning away.

"I'm going to the bar, coming Bill?" I asked. He nodded and said goodbye to Sherlock before following me out of the police station. We walked to the nearby bar and sat in a booth.

"What's wrong?" He asked after we ordered drinks. "When you're around Sherlock, you get angry. Why?"

I stared at the whiskey in my glass and sighed.

"You love him." Bill breathed. I narrowed my eyes at the glass and shook my head.

"I did at one point," I admitted. "Then I realized how lonely that would be."

"How many times?" He asked. We both knew what he was referring to. I took a deep breath before answering.

"Four."

"Will you try again."

"Most likely."

"When."

"I don't know."

"Please don't."

"I don't lie."

"I know." he breathed. His eyes wide as he stared at me. "You have a brilliant mind. Don't lose it, please."

I swallowed my drink in one gulp before staring at the empty glass. Pain radiates up my left arm from the conversation.

"Does Sherlock know?" Bill asked.

"He's smart. So probably." I shrugged. "Not like he would care."

"I care." He whispered. I stared at him in silence. "I know what you'll say, that you're not one anybody should care about, but I still care about you."

His clothes were a mess, his hair stuck up from not being combed and his eyes were bloodshot. He was a drug addict and only twenty-five. He was worried about me but he should be focusing on getting himself cleaned.

"Thank you, Bill." I forced a thin smile and nodded. "I'm going home now."

"Don't do anything." He said as I stood. I glanced at the ground before leaving. I never lied to anyone. I don't intend to start now. So I left without a word.