*cue NCIS theme*

It was a standard morning at NCIS. As Ziva strode through the elevator she heard the voice of Tony. At McGee's desk.

"Come on, you're a detective writer. You've got to have a favorite!"

"Tony," said McGee, in his most McGee-ish annoyed voice.

"Don't 'Tony' me, McMystery. There are lots of good Holmeses! Rathbone. O'Toole. Even Downey!"

"Tony!" snapped McGee. "I don't have a favorite Sherlock Holmes."

"Fine, be that way," said the agent. "Let me just scurry over here and ask our Israeli friend who her favorite Holmes is."

Ziva laughed without meeting Tony's eye. "I have always been partial to the original. Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Who's that?"

"The original Sherlock Holmes," McGee said.

"What year? What movie?"

Enter Gibbs. "1890. He wrote the stories, DiNozzo." Gibbs' phone rang. "Yeah, Gibbs?"

With the boss distracted Tony turned to Ziva. "Books again? Have you ever even seen a Sherlock Holmes movie?"

"Have you read any of his books?" Ziva challenged.

"In fact, I have," said Tony, proudly.

"I don't think the picture book 'Great Mouse Detective' counts, Tony," called McGee with a wry grin.

"On our way," Gibbs said into the phone. He hung up. "Grab your gear," he called. His team stepped forward with their bags.

"Where we headed, boss?" asked McGee.

"Yorktown, Virginia," said Gibbs. "We have a dead Commander."

The crime scene was the Commander's house. "Commander Williamson," McGee read off his iPhone. Tony was taking pictures. "Gunshot to the head. No sign of a break in."

"Hey, look at this," said Ziva, who was sketching the room. She motioned toward a pill bottle on his bedside table. "He was having sleeping problems."

"No prescription necessary," said Tony, snapping the pictures. "He could've picked these up at any drug store." Then he donned a British accent, doing his best Holmes impersonation. "Very good, Agent David, you have a grand hand at observation yourself."

"Not bad," said Ducky, as he entered the room with Palmer. "But I can one up you." Changing his voice from Scottish to English, he said, "We must make theories to suit facts, not facts to suit theories." The doctor laughed. "Reading Sherlock Holmes as a child probably encouraged me to get into the crime world, as nasty a world as it can be."

The doctor and his assistant stood over the body lying on the bed. "Time of death," said Palmer. "I would place it about ten hours ago, so around eleven o'clock last night."

"Very good, Mr. Palmer, yes," said Ducky. "Around time to be going to bed, but I'm sure he expected to wake up again. Well, preliminarily, I would assume it was the gunshot, but we'll know for certain once we get him back to our table."

Back at the base, Abby was working hard. "Gibbs, why no Caf-Pow?"

"Their machine's down, Abby," he replied.

"That's the second time this month!" cried Abby.

"What have you got, Abs?"

The girl smiled. "I never get tired of that phrase, but I prefer it with caffeine. Did you know that both caffeine and being around people you love can be addicting, just like drugs?"

"Abs."

"Right." She motioned towards the computer screen. "He did take the sleep meds, but they were a standard amount. They shouldn't have done him any harm. There was something in his system, I'm running it through now, but it's something Major Mass-Spec has never seen before, so it's taking a while." She led Gibbs over to the ballistics test. "Here, we have the slug found in Commander Williamson's frontal lobe. I matched it to a Glock 17. Fired at point blank range. Williamson never had a chance."

Gibbs nodded. "That's good work, Abs." He pointed at the Mass-Spectrometer. "You let me know when you find out what was in his system."

"On, it!" Abby giggled. "Boss."

"Dinozzo," Gibbs yelled from across the room. "What do you have on Cmdr. Williamson?"

"Worked at the Yorktown Weapons Station, boss," said Tony. "Reported UA today, so they called his cell. No answer, obviously, so they sent someone to find him. Found him dead, called us."

"I may be able to head some more light on this," said Ziva.

"She means shed," said Tony.

"He had a Restraining Order against him." She clicked the remote and a Virginian license plate came on the screen. "Brenda Hall. Told the lawyer she met Cmdr. Williamson at a bar in Yorktown, dated him a couple of times, and then he became obsessed and started stalking her."

McGee spoke now. "On his phone, he sent her text messages like 'I want to see you' and 'I can't stop thinking about you.'"

"Wow, obsessed was right," said Tony.

"Ziva, you're with me," said Gibbs. "We're going to talk to this Hall lady. DiNozzo, McGee, talk to Ducky."

"Our initial assumption was correct," said Ducky. "It was the gunshot that killed him."

"Abby said something about a compound in his system," said McGee.

"Over here!"

The three men looked up to see Abby on the webcam. "I still haven't found out what the compound was, but I found out what it did. It affected his frontal lobe and his pituitary gland."

"Meaning?" asked Tony.

"Meaning after taking that compound, he was like you, Tony," said McGee. "He was horny and had poor judgment. Likely some drug or alcohol."

"That's impossible," said Ducky. "He had no kidney or liver damage. If he was intoxicated, there would've been signs."

"Then he wasn't intoxicated," said Abby. "But someone gave him something to keep his hormones raging and his judgment poor."

"That explains the stalking," said Tony.

"But not the murder," said McGee.

"Perhaps I missed something," said Ducky. They turned away from the webcam and discovered Commander Williamson's body was gone, and Palmer was lying on the floor.

"Jimmy!" cried Ducky, and he rushed forward to help his colleague.

McGee and Tony stared at the empty slab in horror.

"Where's the body?" asked McGee.

"Gibbs is gonna kill us."