Anderson tosses him a blanket and points to the couch.

"That's the only blanket you're getting, the couch doesn't fold out, and you better be gone in the morning."

Sherlock smirks, still standing in his blood-soaked coat in the middle of Anderson's flat.

"I don't suppose Mrs. Anderson would appreciate me still being here."

"Oh, shut it. You know she's gone, so just shut your mouth."

"Of course. I will not say a single thing about the level of dust on the bureau with the family pictures, or the cheap jewelry that was displaced when she took all of her good things with her."

"I swear, I will drag you back to Bart's and toss you off a second time. And there'll be no truck waiting and no bags of blood this time."

"Oh yes, your vital contribution to the events earlier. Which only incidentally had to be directed, planned, and ultimately executed by me."

"Don't even pretend, you prick. There's no way in hell you would have come to me if you could have done it alone."

"I could have found Molly."

"You wouldn't want to put up with her crying, squeaky little thing she is. No, you needed someone who couldn't care either way if you lived or died. Someone who absolutely relished the idea of you leaving London for the foreseeable future."

"Then thank the fates that we were brought together, as if I had come across a particularly opportune hammer on the side of the road."

"Oh yes, we all pale before the almighty detective. You're always going to be smarter than me, aren't you? Smarter than Lestrade? Smarter than Sally?"

Sherlock's retort dies in his throat upon seeing the new anger in Anderson's eyes. Anderson continues, stepping closer to Sherlock and glaring deep into his eyes.

"Don't come back, do you understand me? This is Sally's chance to actually make something of herself, step out of Lestrade's shadow, and the last thing she needs is her big case undermined because you can't keep your massive brain out of everyone's faces."

Sherlock holds Anderson's gaze.

"I will return to John eventually. Once everything has been done that needs to be done."

"Fine, I don't care, go play detectives with your pet doctor all you like. Just do it outside London; do it quietly. Cut your damn hair and buy a different coat, get a less stupid name, anything. Just don't ruin this for Sally."

"…What changed your mind? Not standing by Sgt. Donovan anymore; that must be a significant step. People do tend to show loyalty to their romantic partners."

"Oh, yes, of course, I should be busy thinking with my silly little emotions while you are the pinnacle of reason. Don't be stupid. I am a man of science. I re-ran those tests you had back in your lab, and everything checked out. You even missed a few things."

"No I didn't!"

"Yes, you did! You work too fast, you're bound to make mistakes. But you would have bragged about every single thing there if you had faked it. Your ego is too bloody massive to let any point slip past the mortals."

"…So your faith in my arrogance assured you of my innocence?"

"I've taken your shit for too many years to think any different of you."

"I…thank you, Anderson. Or, I should say, thank you…actually, what is your first name?"

"Oh, fuck you. Go to bed and be out of here by morning, and don't get any more blood on the carpet. I need a clean start to my new, Holmes-free life."