Sergeant Sally Donovan shook her head as she surveyed the media crews set up outside the crime scene. She got on her phone.

An irritated voice answered. "Lestrade."

"Sorry, Greg, but the gang's all here."

"Shit. Can you hold them back until I get there?"

"I'll try."

Sally straightened her jacket and pushed her long hair out of her face before walking out of the building's entrance. She was immediately swarmed by reporters, the bright lights of the cameras contrasting painfully in the deepening twilight. She held up her hand with her ID to make them quiet down and said, "Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade will be out here to brief you shortly. I will not make any additional statement. We thank you for your patience."

Ignoring the loud chorus of questions, Sally turned to re-enter the building, but one shout caught her attention.

"Sally!"

She turned to observe a petite blond woman pushing through the crowd. She seemed vaguely familiar to Sally, but not someone she place easily. Certainly not someone who should be on a first-name basis.

It had already been a very long day, hell, a very long week, and Sally let it show in the tone of her voice. "I said I wouldn't be making a statement."

The blonde laughed. "No, I'm not a reporter. I'm Mary Morstan."

"Am I supposed to know who you are?"

A hard look flickered across the stranger's face before she let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I thought he would have mentioned me. I'm John Watson's fiancee."

The two women shook hands. "Nice to meet you," said Sally. "Sorry to start off on the wrong foot."

"Oh, I should be the one apologizing. I know you've been working on this case for days."

Sally was exhausted. Challenging did not even begin to describe this case. A seemingly straightforward murder turned into a search for a corporate spy and finished with torture and an attempted professional hit. The assassin had been killed while the spy was recovered from the office where she was being held prisoner. After a week pursuing this case, all Sally wanted to do is get back to her flat and soak in a hot bath for hours.

Sally sighed. "What can I do for you, Ms. Morstan?"

"Mary, please."

Sally responded with a tight smile.

"Are the boys still inside?"

"Yeah, last I saw."

"Do you think I could go in and get John? We have dinner plans."

Sally waved her off. "No way. We get enough grief letting those two in, I'm not letting in more civvies."

Mary's smile was brittle. "You know Sherlock, though. He'll keep John in there all night. John is too kind-hearted to tell Sherlock he wants to leave."

"I've never known John to do anything he didn't want to do."

Mary rolled her eyes. "Please. Ever since John found out Sherlock saved his life, he's been unable to deny him anything. Sherlock has been taking woeful advantage of it." Mary touched Sally's elbow. "You know John is Sherlock's only friend, the only one who doesn't think he's some sort of freak."

Sally decided she did not like Mary Morstan.

Sure, she'd felt much the same way about Sherlock earlier on in their acquaintance. She warned John away from Sherlock half a dozen times. But then she witnessed John without Sherlock and now Sherlock without John. Neither man was complete without the other.

Sally was fairly certain that Mary knew this, too.

"How about I go in and tell John you're here?"

"Oh, thank you!"

"If you would please just go back and wait by the kerb, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course, thank you again for your understanding."

Sally smiled politely as Mary walked away. As the sergeant turned to enter the building, she met Lestrade on his way out. "They're all yours, boss."

Greg grimaced. "Oh, thanks."

"Are Holmes and Watson still inside?"

"Yeah. Why?"

For some reason, Sally did not want to mention Mary's presence. "I'll tell them about the media being here. That way they can decide if they want to leave out the back."

"That's DI thinking." Lestrade winked, and Sally playfully swatted his shoulder.

"Oh, shut it."

Sally was gratified for the improvement in her working relationship with Greg since Sherlock's return. Not that he had blamed her, no. In fact, Lestrade praised Sally's relentless pursuit of the facts when he had settled for Sherlock's word alone. But Sherlock's death introduced a coldness in their partnership. Sally was grateful for their renewed camaraderie.

The forensics crew had finished tidying up the crime scene, and the sound of their receding footsteps echoed in the otherwise empty corridor. As Sally approached the office door, she recognized Sherlock's deep voice. She peered inside.

Sherlock pointed to where the hostage had lain. Long coat swaying at his sides, he paced around the room, continuing to gesticulate broadly. John rested against the far wall, watching Sherlock with affection in his eyes and a gentle smile on his face. As Sherlock drew near John, the doctor made a comment that caused Sherlock to burst into laughter. He collapsed against the wall next to John, and they giggled like children.

There was a time when their laughter at a crime scene would have infuriated Sally. She'd seen too much bloodshed and devastation. Crime scenes made her sad and angry, motivated to right the wrongs done to the victims. That Sherlock treated the same crimes as a game had struck Sally as the symptom of a broken man, the sociopath he claimed to be. Then John Watson entered Sherlock's life, and Sherlock still treated crimes as fascinating puzzles, but he grinned when John praised him and delighted in John's laughter and appeared ten years younger when John made him giggle, and suddenly all Sally could see was the good man Sherlock had the potential to be. The man John Watson made Sherlock Holmes want to be.

Shoulder to shoulder, Sherlock and John leaned against the wall, their laughter finally subsiding. Sally lightly knocked on the door as she entered the room. Both men pushed off from the wall, and while Sherlock straightened his scarf, John asked, "All done here, Sally?"

She nodded. "Your statements check out and we're done with evidence, so you're free to leave."

"Excellent." Sherlock paused before saying, "Good work, Sergeant Donovan."

Sally's eyes widened, but not as much as John's smile. "If we're free to leave, I must make sure the world's only consulting detective eats his dinner." John turned to Sherlock. "Chinese?"

"Thai. You're buying."

"Yes, I know." John placed a hand on the small of Sherlock's back and guided him towards the door. Both men stopped when Sally closed it.

"You'll want to go out the back way," she said by way of explanation. "There are press out in front."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John said, "Thank you."

Sally indicated a glass door on the opposite side of the room. "That stockroom leads to a loading dock in alley. I'll call and have uniforms escort you to a taxi out the back."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but Sally just shrugged her shoulders and said, "I can be nice sometimes, even to the world's only consulting detective."

John grabbed Sherlock's shoulders and pushed him towards the other door. "Thank you, Sally."

Sally smiled as the two men left the room, laughter trailing behind them. The lack of sleep and regular meals of the previous days were catching up to her, and she yawned as she made her way out of the building. Greg was still answering questions for the media, and Mary lingered at the kerb.

"Tobias!"

A young uniformed officer approached Sally. "Yes, Sergeant."

"Make sure Holmes and Watson get a cab in the back alley. Don't let anyone see them leave and make it quick."

The young woman responded, "I'm on it." As Sally watched her walk briskly away, she heard high-heeled footsteps approaching her from behind.

"Is John finished?"

Sally carefully schooled her face into a neutral expression before turning around. "Sorry, they must have left before I got back in the building." Sally touched Mary's elbow. "I'm sure John will contact you soon."