The next day was a Saturday, my chance to sleep in. Only this particular Saturday I was awakened by a banging on my dorm door.

"Make it stop," Adrianne mumbled into her pillow.

I staggered out of bed and over to the door. I cracked it to see Sherlock standing outside.

"I thought you'd be ready by now," he said with a smug smile that I just wanted to slap off his face. Had I ever really found this guy attractive?

"Ready for what?" I said, horrified to know the answer.

"I've found our project."

He gave annoying emphasis on the word 'our'.

"I'll be ready in a minute, unless you want me to go like this," I said, determined not to let him one up me.

Sherlock eyed my boxers and tank top that I wore to bed.

"I'll wait," he said, "and you might want to brush your teeth too."

I growled as I slammed the door on him and I thought I heard a chuckle come from the hall. In ten minutes I was at least presentable, though I had been tempted not to brush my teeth just to spite Sherlock. He was leaning against the wall across the hall when I emerged from the room. Wearing a plain white t-shirt and dark blue jeans he somehow managed to pull off a look that would have made a Versace model nervous about job security.

"Why does he have to be such a jerk?" I bemoaned to myself, "he would be such a catch otherwise."

"So what's going on?" I asked as I followed him down the hall.

"Well Miss Cordell," he said in that perfect accent as he held the door for me, "I happen to be friends with the chief-of-police and he has our unsolved murder."

I followed him to the parking lot.

"We can take my car," he said walking over to a new yellow Mustang and opening the passenger side door for me, "I know where we're going."

Again I was baffled by the contradiction this guy posed. Insulting me one minute, opening doors for me the next.

"Nice wheels," I commented.

He shot a grimace as he put the key in the ignition.

"Guilt offering," he said.

I let the conversation drop there and rode in silence until we pulled up to an apartment building surrounded by police cars. I looked around nervously.

"Are you sure we're supposed to be here?" I asked.

"It's fine," he said glancing around for someone.

I suddenly saw a burly older police officer walking toward us. Sherlock lunged out of the car.

"Paul!" he said with more enthusiasm than I'd seen him put into anything.

The officer grinned and shook his hand only to pull him into a backslapping hug.

"How are you, Damien-boy," the officer said as he released Sherlock then with out waiting for an answer looking in the car, "brought a date this time I see."

I blushed and scrambled out of the Mustang.

"This is my project partner, Shelley Cordell," Sherlock said, apparently forgetting to be abrasive in his enthusiasm, "she said she'd report me if I did the project without her and I said she was on."

Sherlock spun around to me.

"This is Police Chief Paul Hawthorne," he said then turned back to Chief Hawthorne, "and I think she'd rather see me fall off the face of the earth than date me."

Hawthorne chuckled.

"Don't let him fool you, Miss," he said to me, "his bark is worse than his bite."

"Could've fooled me," I muttered under my breath as I shook the Chief's hand.

"Now then," said Hawthorne, "let me show you our crime scene."