"Apologizing is a sign of weakness Trent." Gibbs curtly told Trent as he pushed pass with coffee dripping down his jacket.

Trent gave an apologetic smile. "Just trying not to be strangled for breaking rule #23*." (*Never mess with a Marine's coffee.)

"Then get me a new coffee Garrio!" Gibbs snapped as he went into the bathroom.

Tony started laughing. "Way to end a case Probie—"

"Don't compare me to McGee." Trent told Tony as McGee let out an annoyed grunt.

"Don't be grumpy Boy Scout; it could have been worse—wait, no you managed to break two of Gibb's favorite rules…that's bad. It's even worse than Probie breaking rule #22—"

"Can you two have a conversation without insulting me?" McGee whined from his computer.

Trent mischievously smirked. "He's right Tony; what was that one rule you always break…Oh yeah #1."

"I've never let suspects stay together." Tony answered.

"I was referring to 'never screwing over your partner' or is it 'never screw your partner'? Oh well, you've done both." Trent's smile grew as Tony's face became rigid.

"Ever seen the movie Carrie Trent? All the haters die first—"

"So does the dumbass; DiNozzo." Trent was enjoying seeing Tony's vein grow as he heard McGee snigger.

"Well if I'm the village idiot and you're the hater; then McGeek is Carrie…wait psycho-girl that kills the entire senior class with freaky mind powers—it could be Ziva!"

Ziva looks over her magazine. "Don't make me teach you another lesson Tony."

Gibbs was out of the bathroom with a dried coffee stain on his shirt. He suddenly stopped when he looked up at the stairway. Director Vance walked quickly down the stairs. "All of you, in my office." He brusquely said.

Trent felt his stomach give a nervous lurch. Vance looked…anxious. When Vance is anxious then something terrible was happening.

Everyone was gathered in Vance's office. Vance looked at everyone closely as he stoically said. "There was a murder this morning in London." A picture showed up on the screen. Gibb's and Trent's eyes widened as Vance continued. "Naval Officer Johnathan Shaw was found strangled in his bathtub." He then reluctantly moved onto two more pictures. "Scotland Yard has been kind enough to find security footage of who entered and left the room around the time of the murder." Everyone in the room looked at the screen in horror as Angelina's picture showed up next to a man with dark brown hair.

Tony's face became dead as he looked at the picture, while McGee kept blinking furiously like he was seeing things. Ziva's brow was furrowed as she peered at the screen and the director. Ducky sighed sadly and closed his eyes. Trent stared at the screen silently as Gibbs glared at Vance for an answer.

"They have not been able to find them…I was requested to send a team to investigate this murder…I'm sending you all."

The room remained silent for a moment, until Gibbs quickly left the room. His team hurries after him as fast as they could; their motivation was to rescue their friend from danger.


I stare into the tea Mrs. Judson made for me as Watson and Holmes were talking in the next room. I was replaying everything inside of my head over and over and over again. My cell phone was dead and I couldn't bear calling anyone or I would break down. Holmes walked back into the room and stood in front of me. Watson stood beside him and was giving him a seething look.

Holmes kneeled down in front of me and looked straight into my eyes; making me look away as he spoke. "You're hyperthymestic. The overly detailed observations, the way you become lost in thought from various memory processes, and mental fatigue pointed me in that direction. The note from your psychologist also affirmed this. I also went through your purse and found out that you have a stepfather and mother and four siblings; one of which is a twin brother. You are also connected with Naval Criminal Investigation Services. Were you an intern? I can see from the scars on your knuckles and the callouses on your finger that you use to fight and use a firearm frequently, but stopped abruptly. You're remembering your time in NCIS aren't you?"

He was right; I was remembering when I assisted Gibbs and his team on many missions until Mike Franks was murdered. I couldn't deal with the deaths anymore; especially losing Mike... I stopped assisting NCIS and focused on my studies to become a curator.

"I could use your help—" Sherlock started, but Watson interrupted him:

"She doesn't need to get involved any more than she has—"

Sherlock raised his voice to overcome Watson's to tell me. "John doesn't believe you can handle this, but we both know that you can. I know you want to help find your friend's killer and the reason why his life was taken. Your memory can greatly assist me in this investigation only if you agree to join the game. I am the only one who can find the killer and uncover the reasons, just like you are the only one that can actually describe observations better than a security camera-"

"Sherlock-" Watson was glaring at his friend.

"Oh shut up John; she can decide for herself whether she wants to sit here and cry or actually do something productive." Sherlock stared at me and waited impatiently.

I ground my teeth together as I answered. "Manipulation doesn't work so well on me Mr. Holmes."

Holmes scoffed. "Very well-"

"I am going to do anything I can, so what do you need me to do?" I ask him while glowering into his startling eyes as he smiled at his accomplishment. "There's one thing I must ask of you."

Holmes raised his eyebrows and nodded to me to continue. "Call this a game again and I won't hesitate in punching you in the gut. Johnny's death is not a game to me, understand?"

Holmes blinked in confusion at my ire, but finally agreed. "Anything else?"

"Don't be surprised if I have emotional breakdowns or become cognitively unresponsive. Also, don't touch my purse." I stand up at the same time he does, causing me to be pressed against him. I stepped back and fell into the chair. I bit my lip in embarrassment as Holmes said:

"You forgot to mention you were hopelessly imbalanced."

"Shut up Sherlock." John told him as he helped me up. I smile at John; happy to have someone there to help me.

I peer back at Sherlock who was gazing at me steadily. I walk up to him and had to look up to meet his gaze. "Ready when you are." I got out my gun and cocked it.


Author's note: All rights reserved to Sherlock and NCIS : I don't own their characters I am simply borrowing them. All rights reserved to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's story The Five Orange Pips, which is a story I adopted from Doyle's Sherlock Holmes mysteries. I only own Angelina and Trent Garrio.