John joined Sherlock in their cab quickly, and they headed off to Scotland Yard.

The pair could feel eyes boring into them from every direction as they walked inside. The gossip must've spread quickly as it usually did when it involved Sherlock. "Nosy bastards," John muttered, eliciting a smirk from the consulting detective. Gossip didn't faze him so much anymore, but it was amusing to see John so defensive on his behalf.

They strode into Lestrade's office, where they were met by the detective inspector and Sergeant Donovan. "Thank you for coming in," said Lestrade, his face pulled taut. "You've saved us quite a bit of paperwork by not causing a fuss," he said, managing a painfully fake half-smile.

Donovan was less cordial. "Holmes, you're coming with me," she said harshly, opening the door and glaring up at him. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. "Alone," she snapped, ignoring John, who had opened his mouth to protest.

Sherlock turned back to Lestrade. "I came here of my own accord, and without complaint," he reminded him. "Will you please allow John to at least listen in to the proceedings?" He swallowed, glancing over to his companion. "It's probably best that he hears whatever I say from my own mouth, rather than through office gossip," he said pointedly, raising an eyebrow at Donovan, who turned away slightly to avoid his gaze.

The detective inspector hesitated, but nodded after a moment. "John, with me," he muttered, waiting for the sergeant and Sherlock to leave before holding the door open for the doctor.

Sherlock entered the interrogation room, sitting himself down in his waiting chair, which sat in front of a large table, directly facing the one way mirror which allowed the individuals in the observation room directly across from them to observe the proceedings.

John and Lestrade entered that observation room, Sally close behind them.

The detective sergeant and inspector adjusted their two-way communication system quickly, both of them anxious to get the process begun as soon as possible, albeit for entirely different reasons. Sally finished with her equipment and rushed out; reappearing a few minutes later in the John and Greg's views as she entered the interrogation room.

Lestrade turned both of their coms, speaking into his mouthpiece. "You may begin, Donovan, but be…delicate, will you?" he said pointedly. "I'm already hesitant to let you be the one to interrogate him." He didn't feel that he owed Sergeant Donovan any tact; she wasn't one to distribute it freely, after all.

Donovan turned towards the mirror and glared in Lestrade's general direction, but, she nodded, not looking all too pleased, and turned to the genius in question.

"You're Sherlock Holmes, correct?" she intoned, knowing that the obvious questions were unnecessary.

Sherlock nodded wordlessly, clasping his hands together.

Sally sighed. "Audibly, please," she said, for the benefit of the recording crew.

Sherlock complied. "Yes. I am Sherlock Holmes," he said, his voice monotonous and flat.

"Right." Sally took a seat to Sherlock's right, careful to not obscure the view of the observers in the room across from them. "Why were you at the scene of the crime on Sunday morning, when you are not a paid member of Scotland Yard?" Again, she sighed, knowing the answer was, again, obvious.

Sherlock raised his head slightly, but didn't look at his interrogator. "My presence was requested by Detective Inspector Lestrade, to provide an expert opinion concerning the evidence at the scene."

Donovan continued. "You arrived alone, didn't you?" She paused, and Sherlock made a confirmatory noise.

"Where was your usual, ahem, companion?" she asked, barely containing her smirk.

Sherlock looked up at her, his face betraying his exasperation. "John had requested earlier that morning that I leave him be if any cases were to arise." He paused. "He cited exhaustion, which was a fair enough reason, in my opinion."

Sally leaned in closer to Sherlock. "So, Mr. Holmes," she began, "how, exactly, would you describe your relationship with Dr. John Watson?" She let her smirk show through with that question.

"Donovan," she heard Lestrade warn through her earpiece, "this is not at all relevant, nor is it an appropriate time to gather your gossip. A bit of professionalism would be merited here, thanks," he grumbled.

She blushed a bit, but before she could retract her question, Sherlock raised a hand to stop her. "John is my closest friend and my professional partner," he said simply. "That's all you need to know," he said, giving Donovan an authoritative, and slightly patronizing, glance. "There's your gossip."

Donovan scowled. "Noted," she grumbled, but continued on with a more relevant and pressing question. "Could you please," she began, putting sour emphasis on the 'please,' "describe your relationship, current and past, with the man known as James Moriarty?"

Even though he had seen it coming, Sherlock still tensed at the question. He had known that this had been the reason he had been called in for interrogation as soon as he had seen Lestrade's number on his phone, but that knowledge didn't make the situation any less unpleasant or uncomfortable.

He breathed in deeply. "Jim-" Sherlock stopped to correct himself, also taking the time to clear his suddenly scratchy throat. "James and I met in our first year of university, when we were assigned to be roommates. We found out, quite quickly, that we were similar, and we became…close."

Donovan stepped back to her chair, retaking her seat. "Similar? Close?" she asked, leaning back. "Do elaborate," she said, waiting for his answer.

"We were both lonely and brilliant," he responded curtly. "Match made in heaven," he muttered, lowering his head a bit.

Sally leaned forward. "You still haven't explained your usage of the word 'close,'" she said. "How 'close' did you become?" It was obvious what she had begun to hint at. "Matches made in heaven, for you, or all people, don't come easily, now, do they?"

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "Moriarty and I did become…romantically involved," he mumbled, not daring to look up and face Donovan's inevitable reaction.

The detective sergeant laughed mockingly. "You mean, like boyfriends?"

Sherlock's jaw clenched tighter. "No, like a business partnership," he spat sarcastically. "Yes, 'like boyfriends!'"

Sally heard a noise of disapproval from Lestrade, but she kept her smirk plastered on her face regardless. "So, you were Jim Moriarty's boyfriend," she drawled, as Sherlock's fists clenched. "Of course, you decided to go with a psychopath, of all people." She chuckled darkly. "Birds of a feather, I suppose." She laughed. "A match made in heaven, indeed."

It was obvious that the man being questioned was struggling to keep calm. His eyes closed tightly and his jaw remained rigid. "I did not come here to be mocked," he hissed, his icy glare crossing Donovan's arrogant one. "Ask me your relevant questions, and then let me leave." He punctuated the last word by baring his teeth slightly and exhaling quickly.

Sally rolled her eyes and shrugged. "How long did the relationship last?" she asked flatly.

"Just over nine months."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a bit for a sociopath," she quipped.

"It wasn't a typical relationship," Sherlock retorted, a bit too quickly.

Sally laughed. "What was it then? True love?" she snorted.

Sherlock's face darkened. "I thought so, yes."

His change in demeanor seemed to go unnoticed to his interrogator. "Why did it end, then, if your connection was so…profound?" she hissed, the malice in her voice taunting him.

Sherlock's gaze dropped, boring so intensely into the table before him that it seemed for a split second that he was attempting to drill through it. He remained silent.

Donovan snorted. "Are we getting shy?" she prodded, ignoring yet another, this time stronger, warning from her earpiece.

Sherlock still said nothing, closing his eyes and biting his tongue hard. "Don't." His voice dropped dangerously.

Sally crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring him. "What, did he call you fat? Look at somebody else for too long? Break up with you for a woman?" She rolled her eyes, staring down at him, her gaze haughty and mocking.

Sherlock remained still. "Don't," he growled. His voice was rising slowly, and his fingers were gripping tightly at his trousers, causing them to wrinkle.

Donovan snorted. "Ooh, sensitive subject. Did you leave him?"

Sherlock jumped up suddenly from his seat and spun to face the sergeant, almost knocking her over. "He raped me," he spat, his anger rising. "I ran away from him because I was scared," he yelled, backing the woman into a corner with every word he said. "I ran and tried to cope, and the only way I could was by distracting myself. First the drugs, and now this!" He turned and gestured grandly at the room around him.

Sherlock rushed to the table and kicked it over in rage. "Then, he came back. Just like that!" he hissed, snapping his fingers and quickly turning back to Sally. "Just like that, he came back and taunted me." He stopped, his chest heaving. "And, again, I ran away." His voice hit a snag, and a strangled gasp escaped his throat. "What else was I supposed to do?" he whispered, his voice pained, and Sally watched as he broke down into violent sobs.

She froze, still pressed against her corner, unable to move her eyes away from the scene in front of her. She felt her heart sink in the most painful way possible. She had caused this. She, in her infinite need to have the last goddamn word, had managed to break down the coldest and most removed man that she had ever met.

If she could have managed it, she would have gladly let every bone in her body break simultaneously or have walked through a lightning storm wearing slabs of the most conductive metal possible, just so that she could escape the insurmountable guilt that was flooding her being in that moment.

She hated herself even more for even thinking about her own comfort when the man in front of her, now collapsed on the floor, was completely helpless and in pain, and all because of her.

She found herself bolting out of the interrogation room, ripping out her earpiece and equipment as she did, and letting the door slam behind her.

John and Greg had been standing in stunned silence as they watched Sherlock and Sally. Neither of them had the faintest idea what to do or say as they both saw Sherlock completely fall apart, right before their eyes.

Their lack of response was interrupted suddenly by Lestrade letting out a rapid stream of curses as feedback screeched in his earpiece as Donovan had bolted out the door. John jerked out of his speechless lull, and both men turned to each other.

"Go be with Sherlock," Greg said as he turned to go. "I'll go and...deal with Donovan," he intoned, gritting his teeth slightly.

John nodded and followed the detective out the door, turning the corner and making his way down to the interrogation room.

He stopped directly outside the door, his hand hovering over the door handle. He hadn't the faintest idea as to what he could say or do to comfort Sherlock. He had never had to, before the previous day's events, and he wasn't sure if he was fully capable of helping his friend.

But, who else would be willing to try? There was Mycroft, but this didn't strike John as the time to bring the two Holmes' together.

So, that left John, in all his uncertainty and self doubt, as the one person that could try to help Sherlock.

John took a deep breath and opened the door.

A/N: I am so, so sorry that this took so long! I had to go to a Chamber choir retreat/workshop thing, which was basically going up to Salt Lake City for three days in a row and spending 12 hours a day learning 7 pieces of music for a concert scheduled for the 3rd night of the thing, as well as in singing workshops, which were either a) murder, or b) completely boring. Absolutely exhausting. So, yesterday was basically spent sleeping and re-watching Sherlock with my sister because I was so tired.

Also, this chapter was really, really hard for me to write (and rewrite), and I'm still really nervous about it. I really hope that it's done the story justice, and that it makes sense, and that you guys like it.

But, ahhh. It's done. Y'all are free to tell me what you think of it, as well as leave constructive criticisms for me.

Also, I start school in 8 days, so, my updates will probably get a bit more sporadic and a bit further apart from each other. God help me.

Thank you for sticking with me!