Sherlock sat down in the interrogation room across from Angelo DeMartino. "I timed it myself, and even at a sprint there is no way you could have made it to the crime scene from your...starting point, in time to brutally slay three people."
Angelo grinned broadly. "I knew you would be able to help me!"
"There is a problem." Sherlock sighed. "You had the victims' blood all over your clothes from when you, literally, tripped over the crime scene. You have absolutely no alibi for being anywhere else. Lestrade will listen to Anderson...unless I give Lestrade incriminating evidence against you."
"You can't tell them where I was, Sherlock. If my mother finds out, I will never hear the end of it. She told me to stay away from her."
"Unless I give them the security footage of you breaking into your ex-girlfriend's house, you will go down for three counts of murder. Life. No parole. You will never make your signature marinara again, and THAT would be a crime," Sherlock stated mournfully.
"Even YOU would miss my marinara, eh?" Angelo chuckled, despite his misery. "Get me out of this, you will never pay for my cooking again." He sighed. "I will have to face Mama..."
"One count, breaking and entering. How does six months sound?"
"Bene."