"Drugs bust," Greg announced cheerfully as he burst through the door.
John dropped the paper to his lap and sighed. "Sherlock..."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Lestrade," the detective protested loudly.
"At least wait until he says something." The doctor couldn't help but laugh as he stood. "What's he taken this time?" John asked.
"A small, jewelled dagger. Priceless." Greg glared at the detective.
John stepped over and leaned in close to admonish his friend only to be interrupted.
"Do you remember the sample I took?" Sherlock said meaningfully. "It's in the fridge.
The doctor snapped around only to see Anderson fishing around under the sink. He turned to face Sherlock. "For God's sake, Sherlock. You can't just keep semen in the fridge?!"
"What? You obviously weren't using it!" the detective retorted defensively.
John cringed. "Not so loud," he whispered. "Just give him the bloody dagger." His tone was menacing.
"What's the whispering, gents?" Lestrade asked, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.
The doctor whipped around, looking about as innocent as Sherlock after a breaking and entering.
"Nothing... Um... Just... Tea!" He finally managed, lunging towards the kitchen. "That's it." He turned back. "Sherlock! Get your lanky arse in here and help."
The detective followed, complaining, "They want to take the evidence! Why are you offering them tea?"
"It's an excuse, you git!" John snapped. "Now do something."
Sherlock blinked at him, then stepped towards his microscope.
"Something helpful," the doctor clarified.
The look that crept onto Sherlock's face should have been a warning. The detective opened the fridge door and quickly poured the sample into the milk. John gagged. Sherlock sat the empty flask behind a foot, turned and, holding the milk up high, pronounced, "The milk's gone off, John." He walked over and dramatically poured it out.
John heaved a great sigh of relief. "Now, about that dagger..."
