I was sitting in my cubical at work, working on a case. I wasn't paying that much attention to it, as I was playing more attention to the pile of sweets next to the file. I had put them there last week, but after dealing with Irene this morning, made me want to eat all twenty candy bars and get more out of the vending machine. I was technically on a diet and didn't need the calories from the sweets. I shake my head and look at the file. My mind went off of the file and started to think about Irene. She was mad today and was more mean than usual. She said her usual things like that I was fatty and a bastard. She added in that mum never loved me and that was why she was okay with sending me away. Irene's words were staying in my head and the file I was reading wasn't getting rid of the words.

I get up and go the vending machine. I get three coca-colas and five more candy bars. I go back to my desk and look around to see if anyone was watching me. I didn't want to have people watch me eat. I didn't see anyone, so I started eating my candy and drinking my soda.

"Hungry Adler?" I hear behind me.

I freeze and shallow. "Just having a little break…" I say softly and turn around. I see Donovan and Anderson standing there.

Anderson looks around me. "That is a big pile of wrappers." He observes.

I felt my throat close off and I look down. "I haven't just ate them just now… I have been eating them throughout the day." I try to cover my tracks.

"It's only noon." Donovan tells me.

I turn around and clean my mess. "Do you want some help?" Anderson asks and kneels down to pick up a wrapper that feel.

"I don't need your help Anderson." I say, taking the wrapper from his hand. I get up and run to the bathroom. I go into the biggest stall and sits down. I bring my knees to my chest and close my eyes. I keep hearing Irene in my head calling me a fat ass. I rock softly for a while, while I try to get Irene out my head.

After a little, I hear a knock on the stall door. "Calliah?" Donovan says softly. I don't say anything. She knew I was a fatty. I was eating those candy bars like a fat kid eats cake. "Are you okay? Anderson and I didn't mean to upset you."

"Just go away." I say softly.

"You don't have to push us away. We always have our bad days." She tells me.

I didn't have anything but bad days. Living with Irene made every day a bad day. Things only became worse than usual, never better. I was stuck with Irene and her bringing me down for the rest of my life. "I don't need you to help me. I don't need anyone." I tell her and look away. No one deserved to deal with me.

She groans. "Fine. I won't try and be a friend." She says and leaves.

I place my head on my knees and sighs. I felt awful for eating all those candy bars and drinking all that soda. I had a slight tummy ache and a headache. I hear another knock on the stall door. "Leave me alone Donovan." I say, getting mad.

"Lestrade needs you in his office." One of the other detectives told me.

I instantly felt bad. "Sorry… tell him I will be there in a minute please." I tell her and get up. I leave the stall and look at myself in the mirror. I was a fatty and a disappointment. Irene wasn't telling me these things to be mean, she was only telling me the truth.

I sigh and leave the bathroom and go to Lestrade's office. I knock on the door and hear him tell me to come in. I walk in and see a man with curly black hair sitting at Lestrade's desk. I look at him as I tell Lestrade, "You need me?"

"Yes, Adler. This is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is our best detective, Calliah Adler." Lestrade said, making the appropriate introductions us.

"Nice to you meet you, Mr. Holmes." I said, holding out my hand. "What can we do for you?"

"Actually, it's what can I do for you." Mr. Holmes said and shook my hand.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, looking at Lestrade.

Lestrade sighs and motions to the other chair. I sit down and look at them both. "The case we are working on is stumping everyone."

"Like they always are." Mr. Holmes interrupts. Lestrade looks at him and frowns. "You always need my help."

Lestrade ignores him and looks at me. "We need someone to come in and help us, so that is where Sherlock comes in. He has helped me with some smaller cases and he is brilliant. We need him, Calliah."

"So he is going to help us on the homicide case?" I asked. When Lestrade nodded, and I laughed. "He is a common man off the street. Why would he be able to help us with this case? I have studied all the details for hours, and still have no idea what happened."

"Your sister hates you." Sherlock says.

I turn to him. "What?" I ask.

"Your sister hates you, to the point that she tries to kill you every time she beats you. She blames you for something and you agree with her." He stops and studies me. "You think of Lestrade as a father figured. Most likely because own father didn't want you, and the one your mother was married to hate you too. You have abonnement issues that you probably won't work out till you get some friends who won't leave you. You want to get along with your sister, but she is impossible and you will never get her to like you. I would stop trying and leave her." Mr. Holmes said with a creepy smile that didn't make feel any better. "My name is Sherlock Holmes and I am the only person who can figure out this case."

I blink. "Okay."

Sherlock inclines his head, focusing his eyes on me in a way that made me feel like he could see through to my soul. "Well," he said. "How did I do?"

I ignore his question and turn to Lestrade. "He will be quite helpful."

Lestrade smiles. "Glad you think so. He is your partner for the case. Get to it."

"You got it, Boss." I say and get up slowly.

Mr. Holmes and I leave Lestrade's office and I lead him to my cubicle.

"They aren't worth your time." Mr. Holmes said to me.

I don't say anything, choosing instead showing him into my office, where I begin to hand him the case files.

"So, how did I do, Sgt. Adler?" Mr. Holmes asked once again, ignoring the file I had handed him.

I sighed, figuring that he would be more uncooperative if I didn't answer. "How did you know all that?"

"You have a healing wound on the back of your neck. The angle of the wound suggests that it was put there by someone who is right handed, which you are, though the angle also suggests that you didn't put it there yourself. Someone did it from standing from behind you, most likely at a bit of a distance if the depth of the wound is anything to go by. Someone stood over you and beat you. Did your parents? Unlikely. You are wearing a ring on necklace that isn't your style. It's sentimental. Maybe a grandmothers, but the style was popular in the sixties and seventies, and you were clearly born in the eighties, no offence. So the ring is most likely your mother's. It was easy to deduce about your father figure by your interactions with Lestrade: your body language indicates that you are close to him, though not sexually, and that you seek his approval.

"You are chewing you nails, which usually means stress. Can't be the job since you came into Lestrade's office with ease, meaning you are comfortable both around him and within the office. It could be friends, but statistics leans towards family. Paired with the ring and your need for an older man's approval, your parents are dead, so who could be the one who causes stress?

"This brings me back to the beating you have receive, which appear to be caused by a whip. The instrument itself could lend itself to a fetish, though the one on your neck leads me to believe that it is less than voluntary. So a person did this to you without your consent, meaning you aren't part of the BDSM community. As you haven't reported the crime, it means you are embarrassed by it at the very least. Possibly done by a partner, but your level of personal grooming suggests that you are single. So family. Your parents are dead, so it couldn't be them. Could be a brother, but the depth of the wound also suggest that they were created by a female, my guess: a sister. Both the severity of the wounds and the type of instrument used suggest rage.

"Your sister must blame you for the deaths of your parents or possibly the breakup of their marriage. That one isn't a difficult leap, either- who often has whips? People who work in the sex industry. But not just an old whore house- no, the whip is usually used by a dominatrix, which is often comprised of women who have strong personalities, and I have found that many of them have had some sort of instability in their lives when it comes to marriages." He explains and looks at me. "So did I get all of it right?"

I shake my head, simultaneously impressed and fighting the urge to slap him. "Wow. That was amazing."

"Most people don't think that." Mr. Holmes responded, frowning a little.

"What do most people think?" I asked.

"Well, Donovan likes to call me a freak..." He replied, looking at Donovan who was sat in the cubicle across from mine. "I have been informed that I am in the habit of showing off."

I follow his gaze then sigh "Possibly, but extraordinary talents are often difficult to hide."

He looked at me for a moment before nodding "Well spoken, Sgt. Adler. Now about your living situation."

I stare at him in confusion. "What about it?"

Mr. Holmes' face splits into a smile- a genuine one at that. "I have my eye on a three bedroom flat, and I need flat mates. Would you be interested?"

I watch the man in front of me for a moment. Who in their right mind would move in with a complete stranger? Still, any place would be better than where I was currently living, and Lestrade did seem to trust this man. I feel myself grin and nod. "Mr. Holmes, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."