A/N: And so we begin the actual case, as well as introduce a new viewpoint. The Sherlock Holmes series belongs to ACD. The programme Sherlock belongs to Gatiss and Moffat.

The Viewpoint of Dr. John Watson.

I can't believe I actually slept at all. Sunlight is coming through my window. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope that when I roll over, I'll see Mary over on her side of the bed.

Nope.

But I do see that it's now 10:34 in the morning. Which means I'm obviously taking the day off. Oh, right, I did call in to take the next week off from the clinic as we left the house. Forgot about that. God, I'm a mess.

Speaking of messes, I sure hope Sherlock didn't make one in his sleep.

I walk over to his bedroom towards his cot. He's just laying there, sleeping soundly. And, yeah, I can tell he's left a steamer. Lovely.

"Sherlock. Wake up. I've gotta change your nappy." I try lifting him up. He starts squabbling. "Just like your namesake. Stubborn. Figures." I manage to get him to the changing table and get him cleaned. Smells awful. Though, I admit, I've smelled worse, this is still pretty bad. Ugh.

All part of parenting, I suppose.

I heat up his formula and, after a bit of fussing on his part, finally get him to take it. If this is some kind of joke about his name and how Sherlock wasn't one to eat anything unless he demanded it, I'm sending a complaint in the collection plate next time I decide to go to service.

Suddenly, as I'm still feeding him, my mobile buzzes. Trying to juggle a baby, a bottle which they can't hold yet, and a mobile is the ultimate parenting circus act these days.

Found the helicopter. E-mailing you the location. G. Lestrade

Well, time to call Rebecca.

The Viewpoint of DI Greg Lestrade.

"Well, there it is, in all of its completely cleaned out splendour," I tell John as he arrives. He strides up with a confused look.

"Clean? Completely?"

"Yes, we just had a look and couldn't find any trace of it having been used recently," Anderson tells him. "Nothing against you, doctor, but I don't know why you're even here."

"Well, I'm not Sherlock, but I did pick up a thing or two from him. You didn't move anything, did you?" John asks.

"No. All we did was look. As is our job as crime techs."

"Which you studied for years in uni, I understand. Then, I don't suppose it'll be much of a problem to look at it with a fresh pair of eyes, huh?" Heh. Looks like swagger was one of the things he picked up. Though, John does it a bit better - more subtle.

John then clambers up into the copter with gloves, a magifying lens, and foreceps.

The Viewpoint of Dr. John Watson.

Seats: hoovered. Control panel: washed. Steering: washed. Windows: washed. Carpet beneath seats...

"What's this?" I whisper to myself. There's a small spot on the right hand side in the floor of the copter. Looks set in. Feels set in. But I might be able to pry up a sample with the foreceps...

"Anderson! Would you hand me one of the evidence baggies?"

The Viewpoint of Crime Technician Anderson

"Sure. Here," I say, handing Dr. Watson one of the small plastic bags.

I admit, I'm a little confused; irked as well. Sure, he's nicer than that freak, Holmes, was. Not as sharp tongued. But still, what right does he have interferring with my job? Does Lestrade have no faith in me? Calling in an amateur to do my job. The job I was hired to do and am paid to do? Who gives this man the right to take over?

Well, at least he's nice about it. At least he's actually tried being nice to me. I can respect that.

"Here." The doctor hands me the bag now containing a small lump of clear substance.

"Where was it?" Lestrade asks him.

"Under the right hand side of the control panel."

I thought we looked there? Did we really miss it? Maybe I ought to look into purchasing a pair of glasses, just to be on the safe side...

"Right. I'll send it to the lab to be examined." He goes right back into the copter. What else does he expect to find? A piece of lint we missed? I let out a small sigh as I admit to myself I really do wonder what else that man can find.

The Viewpoint of Dr. John Watson.

Nothing else in the front end that I can see. As for the back... something appears to be lodged between the seat and the wall... If I can just get my foreceps in there, I might be able to pry it loose.

"Anderson! Be ready with another baggie!"

The Viewpoint of Crime Technician Anderson

Again? What is it this time?

"Got one at the ready, doctor." He emerges with a metallic object between the foreceps. A bullet case.

"Found this between the back seat and the wall. Was the man shooting at the squad that was after him?"

"Donovan did mention he shot at them once through the side. I guess they figured the case fell out into the street," Lestrade answers. I can't help but wonder if it means something, finding that bullet case. Though... it does look familiar.

"I think I've seen a bullet case like that before. Recently, in fact." Both the doctor and Lestrade stare at me quizzically. So, I want to contribute. At least tonight I actually have a chance to.

"Really?" John asks as he hops down to the ground. "Where?" He's sincerely asking me for my input. Internally, I'm shocked. Though, I do my best to hide it.

"In the evidence in the Adair case, I believe. It's the one you found in the house across from his room."

He smiles at me. Genuinely. I hand him a bag for the case. He places it in, I seal and label it as I did the sample, and we return to the lab at Barts. The whole way back, John's being nice to me. The amateur. Genuinely nice. To me of all people, one who Holmes never seemed to like. Then again, I didn't like him much, either. Sure, he was brilliant, I'll give him that. No way I'd ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that, though.

That man would probably be over the moon to hear it.