Sherlock knocked on Anderson's door and waited impatiently. He hated having to come see Anderson. Every week for the past two months, Anderson would call him and invite him over. The man had gone insane because John had blamed him.

The only time the man was the somewhat sane was when Sherlock came over and discussed the power of deduction, cases, advice, you name it, Anderson wanted to talk about it, but only with Sherlock.

The door opened. "Hey Sherlock. Come in."

Anderson stepped out of the doorway and let Sherlock in.

"Hello Anderson," Sherlock said as he walked past the man. "What do you wish to discuss this time?"

"What were you doing in a drug den?" Anderson asked as he closed the door.

"As I have been saying all day, it was for a case," Sherlock stated. "If you don't have any further questions, there's work to be done."

"Who's the guy your brother has forbidden me to speak of?" Anderson asked.

"He is none of your business. You are to as Mycroft instructed and forget the name. You are to forget everything that went on inside my flat," Sherlock ordered. "Do you understand me?"

Anderson gulped. "I understand, but why?"

"He is just a very dangerous man, who knows everything about everybody. If you cross his path in a bad way, you will be at his mercy until the day you die. So heed my warning, Anderson. Do. Not. Piss. Off. Mycroft," Sherlock warned.

"I won't" Anderson promised.

"Good. Now if that is all, I must be one my way," Sherlock said.

"I have a theory I want to run by you," Anderson stated.

Sherlock sighed. He hated hearing about Anderson's theories. They got more and more insane with each visit, and were about things that were completely impossible or didn't exist..

"What's you latest theory?" Sherlock asked.

"What if Moriarty was still alive?" Anderson questioned.

Sherlock stared at Anderson for a long moment and wonder if the madman had lost any or all traces of the sanity he had left.

"Have you go completely mad?" Sherlock asked. "Moriarty put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He's dead. There's no possible way he could have survived."

"Ever heard of a blank and carefully concealed blood packet?" Anderson asked.

"Even a blank can be deadly if the gun is touching any part of the victim's body, or in close proximity" Sherlock explained. "If he had manged to survive that kind of injury, he would have an extensive brain injury. He wouldn't be able to function without someone caring to his ever single need."

"But he has people," Anderson pointed out.

"Not anymore. I destroyed his entire network," Sherlock said.

"He could have rebuilt it," Anderson suggested.

"I don't have time to hear this ridiculous theory of yours. Moriarty is as good as dead. End of story," Sherlock stated. "I suggest that you get some help and make a life for yourself. Good day, Anderson."

Sherlock left Anderson's flat and walked out into the quiet street. He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to set. He only had a few more hours left until he to go through with his plan.