A/N: I don't own any of the "Elementary" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.

Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.

Sorry about the delayed update, I had a bit of a writer's block with this one.

Sherlock opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

Somehow, without even looking around, he knew that the "problem" was yet to be resolved. It was the same morning again. The same day again.

The smells, the sounds from the outside, the... feeling in general, simply. It was all pointing to that. Sherlock groaned.

He looked around. There was Joan, lying face up on the bed, right next to him, only partially covered with the bed sheet. The sight made him smile, despite the circumstances. But then his stomach fell, as he wondered about How will Joan react to such news, and what other options do they have.

He picked up his phone, glancing at the screen. He then looked throught the near by window.

Definitely the same day.

Despite that, he did have to wake Joan up. He took one more look at her, feeling himself shudder. Then he leaned over and kisses her on the lips.

She shifted a little, squirming on the bed. Slowly, she opened her eyes, their eyes meeting. She felt him linger at her lips. She smiled, and he smiled back at her, moving his hand up to gently stroke her hair. She shivered.

But she was still rational. And curious.

"Same day again?", she whispered.

Sherlock's smile faded a little, but he didn't look away. "Yes", he said softly.

"Of course", Joan commented sarcastically, but she still kissed him on the lips.

She sat up in bed and pulled her panties on. Sherlock rolled over in bed.

"I suggest we change the course entirely", Joan said, putting her bra on. "Establish control over the situation."

Sherlock frowned. "How exactly?"

"We head to Daniel Miles' ordination", Joan said, putting on a T-shirt. "As of right now."

"We don't exactly have a control over our whereabouts now", Sherlock pointed out. "Time jumps, remember?"

Joan stood up, turning to face him. "But what will happen? Time jump into the kitchen? Or that store? We just decide to go somewhere else. Time jump to the crime scene. We can then decide to go somewhere else entirely, or decide not to take the case at all. Claim that it is too easy. We can go have lunch, for all we care."

"Then we could get transported back to the brownstone", Sherlock reminded her. "To our meeting with Julie, or the night. Or the next morning, the same like this one."

"Yes", Joan agreed. "But we must keep resisting. Eventually, that... power will wear off. Get tired of us."

Sherlock glared at her. "Get tired of us?"

Joan rolled her eyes. "In a lack of a better word." She breathed. "Of course, the two of us evaporating from the crime scene would cause some suspiciouns..."

"Nobody seemed suspicious when we just showed up at that store yesterday", Sherlock remembered. "Or right on the crime scene. Laws of logic, as well as physics, seem to be operating under certain liberties in this sort of situation."

"Not to mention the common sense."

They quickly made their way downstairs, into the hallway that led to the front door.

"Just like that?", Sherlock commented. "No breakfast, no shower, we aren't even going to brush our teeth?"

Joan just glared at him, causing him to shut his mouth and look away. She took her jacket and put it on. "I am more concerned about the killer. I mean, in case we come accross him or her."

"Well, I do have my whistle", Sherlock exclaimed, proudly showing the item. "And maybe this is really like a dream. Or an actual dream. Once you get "killed", you wake up."

Joan rolled her eyes. "I better get my single stick", she commented before going upstairs. "Wait for me", she said to Sherlock, just in case.

#

In the next moment, they were among the terrariums and aquariums again, inside that small store with blue walls and large windows. The place still smelled of fish food and decorative dirt, and young clumsy clerk was once again in the other corner of the room, moving some terrariums around.

Joan groaned. "Real mature!", she cried.

Sherlock frowned. "Who are you talking to?"

Joan looked away. "I don't know."

Sherlock checked his phone and sighed. He immediately headed toward the exit door, pocketing his phone. Without even looking, he reached out, grabbing the fallen terrarium before it could hit the floor and swiftly putting it back on the spot. The clerk just stared at Sherlock, amazed, somehow managing to mutter: "Thank you."

Joan followed after Sherlock, who was already outside, walking down the street. "What are you doing?", she asked.

"What you suggested!", he answered. "Resisting!"

#

Not surprisingly, in the next moment, they were already at the crime scene again. With latex gloves and booties on as well. It was even more annoying the second time around, just like the two of them had expected. Sherlock just sighed, glancing at Joan, and she rolled her eyes.

Daniel Miles' body was lying face up on the floor, multiple stab wounds to his chest, his shirt and coat stained with blood. The whole ordination was ransacked: papers and medications scattered around, drawers and the medicine cabinet opened, signs of damage to the lock.

"I suggest we take a different approach today", Sherlock suddenly said.

Joan glared at him, a frown appearing on her face. Marcus was even more surprised, but he remained calm. "OK. What kind of approach?"

"You take a look around", Sherlock said, with a straight face. "Tell me what you see, and what you deduce from what you see."

Joan barely withheld a smile. Marcus just stared at Sherlock, a surprised smile appearing on his face. But he soon realized that Sherlock was being serious. He eventually just nodded his head, unwilling to pass on a challenge. It is not like Sherlock hadn't trained him in such areas before (or, at least, tried to).

"OK", he said, looking around. "The body. Blood. Medications. Dentist equipment." He stopped for a moment, his eyes centered on a near by wall. "Blood smear", he noted.

Sherlock nodded his head. "Where?", he asked.

Marcus frowned. "On the wall."

"What wall?"

"This one", Marcus answered, pointing at the smear. "The left side wall." He took a closer look at the smear. "It looks like a bloody palm print. Partial one."

"Judging by the location of that smear, it's position, the angle and the depth of the stab wounds, it is obvious that the killer is left handed", Sherlock deduced. He looked Marcus in the eyes, a determined look on his face. "Is anything out of place?", he questioned.

Marcus shrugged, looking around. "The anesthesia container appears empty", he eventually noted.

"And yet, Daniel Miles had a patient scheduled", Sherlock said. "Maybe he was planning on closing early for some reason."

Marcus nodded his head. "Maybe."

"Excellent", Sherlock exclaimed, smiling widely. "Now smell the body", he ordered.

Marcus furrowed his eyebrows, cringing. "What?", he asked, taken aback.

"Smell the body", Sherlock repeated, calmly, like that was the most natural thing in the world.

"Come on", Sherlock urged him.

"No", Marcus decided.

Sherlock sighed, tilting his head to the side and looking at Marcus the way a disappointed parent looks at a child. Joan almost chuckled, a wide smile on her face. She looked away, a smile still playing on her lips.

"No!", Marcus cried.

"A strong scent of male hair gell and a cologne. Combined with the scent of a woman's perfume. Daniel Miles was seeing a woman at the time of his death."

"And this wasn't a burglary gone wrong. Any guesses as to why?"

Marcus looked around some more, then took one more look at the body. "No defense wounds, but the body is pretty far away from the point of entry."

"And why grab the letter opener if you already have the screwdriver?", Sherlock pointed out. He then walked to Daniel Miles' desk and licked up an evidence bag, containing a bloody pen.

"What about this clue?", he asked.

Marcus observed it closely. "A green pen. It was found inside the pool of the victim's blood. Maybe the killer dropped it, or it fell out of the victim's pocket."

Marcus sighed and looked around some more, then walked over to the victim's body and looked inside the pockets on his coat. "All pens in here appear to be in blue or black ink", he noticed, straightening himself up. "Including the rest found in the victim's pockets, as one would expect, so this pen likely belonged to the killer."

"Excellent work, detective Bell!", Sherlock complimented him. "I'm pretty sure you can handle the rest yourself", he said, heading toward the door, as a surprised Joan followed him. "We are headed to the armors exhibition. Forget trying to reach us!"

#

Sherlock suddenly found himself on a familije location: the interrogation room, with detective Marcus Bell and Jenny Red inside. Jenny was sitting at the table, opposite to Marcus. Her eyes were watery.

"I can't believe he's dead", she whispered. "I spoke to him earlier today."

"How and when did you meet?", Marcus asked.

"In a bar. A month ago. It was mostly... a physical relationship. But we loved each other... in our own way."

Marcus kept glancing at Sherlock, accepting him to chime in. When Sherlock didn't respond, Marcus turned to face Jenny and proceeded with the interrogation.

"Where were you today between twelve am and one pm?", Marcus asked.

"I was at work", Jenny answered. "You can check. My coworkers and boss saw me. There are also security cameras there."

"Do you know did Daniel have any enemies?", Marcus eventually asked.

Jenny frowned. "No... but there is one weird thing."

Marcus frowned. "What weird thing?"

"I'll be right back", Sherlock said, grabbing the door knob. "You're doing Great", he said before leaving the interrogation room, closing the door behind.

Both Marcus and Jenny glared at him suspiciously, but soon resumed the interrogation.

Sherlock found himself in the hallway and soon encountered Joan near a vending machine. She was getting a bag of chips. They exchanged a smile and he walked over to her.

"I thought I'd find you here", he said.

"Neat."

She sighed, leaning with her back against the wall. Sherlock walked over, closer to her.

"I'm just scared", she admitted silently. "I am like you in fact that... I hate the routine. You like solving outs, exploring this situation, I get it. But I..." "I'm scared. This is so... surreal. Bleak."

Sherlock smiled slightly. "Well, if that makes you feel any better, this situation is really starting to bother me as well", he admitted. "But the bright spot is... that I'm with you. That we're in this together."

Joan smiled in return. Her cheeks blushed slightly. She shifted in her spot and looked at the bag of chips in her hands.

"Should we go now?", she wondered, a grin appearing on her face. She PowerCD her voice. "Maybe go see a movie or make out in the workroom?"

Sherlock chuckled, then looked around. "Taking a rest is good too." He gazed at his companion. "Even in this kind of situation."

#

They were seated at the kitchen table, like usual. Despite everything, Joan kept glancing through the window every now and then, and then back at Sherlock. He was typing away on his laptop.

"You really won't go outside to meet Julie?", she finally asked.

Sherlock didn't look up. "We already know her side of the story. If she really wants to share that information with us so bad, she will come to us herself. Or issuee an annonymous tip. Besides, she couldn't describe him well, and we can't show him his photograph right now without arosing some suspiciouns."

"What photograph?"

Sherlock then turned the laptop in Joan's directing, frowning suggestively. She looked at the screen: there was a photograph of buff looking Caucasian man on it, alongside with what looked like a list of felonies and police reports. "A criminal record?", she exclaimed.

"Going by what ms. Jones told us two times already, I think I managed to identify the suspect", Sherlock explained.

"Andy Jensen", Joan said, frowning at the screen.

"I've been going through the police reports", Sherlock said. "Andy Jensen has been arrested in the neighborhood close to the one where Daniel Miles' ordination is stationated, two months ago. Possession of a controlled substance. He was released due to a lack of evidence. He threw the drugs away while trying to run away, they couldn't positively prove that it was his. General description matches and he does own a black SUV."

"He could be our killer", Joan concluded.

"Once we went to interrogate the drug store owner yesterday, there was no time jump", Sherlock noted. "Nothing holding us back. We managed to do it, even though he had an alibi, thus excluding him as a suspect. If we keep working on the case, everything will be all right. Probably. Maybe, once we solve the case, all of this will be over."

Joan sighed. "But why is this happening in the first place? And what is causing it?"

"I don't know", Sherlock admitted.

#

Andy Jensen, a stocky looking Caucasian man of average eight, was sitting on a bench near a bus station, hunched over, looking around. Sherlock and Joan were walking over to him slowly, observing him carefully. Once they approached him, Sherlock sat down on the bench next to Andy, and Joan remained standing near by.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I would like to talk to you about the murder of Daniel Miles. A dentist who had an ordination just three blocks away." He tried making an eye contact with Andy. "And whether or not that is related to you. And your drug business."

"You seem pretty nervous", Sherlock noted calmly. "Looking away, tapping with your right foot. Rubbing at your right jeans pocket every now and then."

Andy flinched, looking away. Sherlock continued. "Maybe we should call the police. See what they will find on you. And, later, in your apartment, car..."

Andy gulped, avoiding an eye contact with Sherlock. But Sherlock didn't stop talking. "There is still a chance that you could dispose of the... incriminating contraband before getting arrested. Like you did the last time. But so much... police attention and "throwing away the goods" won't do any good to your... street credibility. Am I right?"

"And if you are planning on running away just now, or getting confrontational, please keep in mind that there are plenty of witnesses around, and I have a single stick", Joan warned Andy, briefly flashling her weapon.

"I have a whistle", Sherlock exclaimed proudly, waving with it in front of Andy's face.

Andy remained silent for some time, breathing heavily, biting at his lower lip. He eventually sighed and spoke up. "Maybe I am doing some... shady business in this area", he confessed, looking away. "But I didn't kill Daniel Miles. I've never done business with him. And I didn't stalk him." He groaned. "How did you even find me here?"

"The police file on you lists this as one of your drug corners", Sherlock calmly explained. "Drug dealing sights. You weren't at your apartment, you are officially unemployed. After going on a search here, we spotted your black SUV parked near this particular location." He looked at Andy sternly. "One witness swears that she saw you peeking through the ordination window. In Daniel Miles' ordination, about a week before his murder. At night. Observing."

"Maybe she saw me around the neighborhood and misinterpeted the whole thing", Andy suggested.

"Where were you today between twelve am and one pm?", Joan asked.

"At the police", Andy answered, sounding annoyed. "They were grilling me about some break in downtown, they interrogated me from eleven am to two pm. Then they finally let me go."

"Right back to business, huh?", Sherlock commented sarcastically.

"It's a cruel world. Tough times."

"There is nothing about that interrogation in your police record or the police file on you in general", Joan noted.

Andy shrugged. "They couldn't charge me with anything. I didn't reveal anything useful. Besides, they just finished with me a few hours ago." He looked Joan in the eyes. "Call the tenth precinct", he said, sounding confident. "Detectives Howard Johnson, in particular. Robbery division. He was there. It is all on tape. All three hours."

"That only proves that you weren't directly responsible", Sherlock pointed out.

Andy rolled his eyes. "Yes, and the police just happened to bring me in for questioning at the time the murder was taking place. Providing me with a perfect alibi. Believe me, I'm not that lucky."