Prologue

"Just take my advice and stay away from that guy."

"Why?"

Sargent Donavan turned, a disgusted look plastered over her face, "You know why he's here? He's not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it. The weirder the crime the more he gets off, and you know what? One day just solving the crimes isn't going to be enough. One day we'll all be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one that put it there."

"And why would he do that?"

"Because he's a psychopath. Psychopaths get bored." She turned on her heel and proceeded to strut in the opposite direction, seemingly proud of herself, "Just stay away from Sherlock Holmes!"

I couldn't say the man wasn't weird, because he most certainly was, but Donavan was just another jealous cop who fancied bashing his name whenever she could. From what I could gather, the department often called him up. The way most called him by his first name and the way others sneered when he passed told me they had mixed feelings for him. No one, detective or otherwise, could do the things Sherlock could.

Granted, that was the first time I'd been at a crime scene with Sherlock, but already I could tell the man was brilliant. I could see how he scared people though... Sherlock could tell you your life's story after one up and down glance, and I don't mean a long, close stare either. I mean a literal 10 second side glance. He told me mine after holding my phone for a minute, and it wasn't poking through my messages or contacts either, he looked at it's rims and cracks before telling me all about my alcoholic sister and asking me about the war. That was all he needed. As I said, the man was brilliant, and it scared people.

It should have scared me too. It would've made it easier for me to get out before I'd sunk too far under, and before I found out Sherlock was a killer.