thank you to ElvishRangerApprentice, for the prompt: Sherlock on a case before john, with lestrade, anderson and donovan, and Zacha, for the prompt: Sherlock, John, Irene Adler, and a banana

It was hard, being among a group of people who were just so blind.

Sherlock appreciated what the people of Scotland Yard were trying to do, he just didn't understand why they even bothered to call him in if they were going to pretend they knew that they were talking about. Donovan had never, and would never trust him, and her annoying attitude only got in the way of his work. Anderson was a complete idiot. Only Lestrade attempted to see what Sherlock observed, but even the detective inspector missed the obvious.

Sighing, Sherlock ran a hand through his curly hair and stood, pausing only to run his eyes once more over the prone body on the ground in front of him, before he gave Lestrade the information he had been looking for. "She's 45, killed by a poisonous dart to the back of the neck...the poison is something I've never seen before, but judging by the water stains under the collar-"

"The what?" Anderson interrupted immiedatly.

Sherlock resisted the urge to take the other man and shake him. Anderson had already pushed Sherlock to the limit of his patience today. Gritting his teeth, he said. "The water stains on her collar indicate that it was up, it was raining, so how could the dart have pierced through the cloth? now, judging by the state of her chipped cell phone, I'd say she is single, alone, she throws the phone down in frustration because her ex never calls her back, therefore-"

"you're just making this up!" Donovan threw her hands up in frustration.

Knowing his thin patience would snap if he remained, Sherlock inclined his head towards her, unable to keep the slight trace of mockery out of his words when he said, "Since you seem so capable of discovering how this women was killed, Donovan, I will leave you to it. Lestrade, text me tomorrow if you need me. You know where to find me." Before any of them could respond, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Pressing his palms against his eyes, Sherlock groaned again, this time in frustration. He needed the people at Scotland Yard for work, without them he would not have half the cases he did, and then he was sure to snap from the boredom...but still, sometimes, he wanted someone who could understand him. Someone who would listen and not interrupt. Or if they were going to interrupt, at least ask him an intelligent question.

But that was never going to happen. He had learned to accept when he was a child that he was alone in the world, that the only one who had any hope of understanding him was his brother, and Mycroft was not here to help him now.

He was going to have to do this on his own.

"That is not a weapon."

John looked up from his computer to see Sherlock and Irene in an intense discussion. Sherlock was gesturing adamantly with his hands, his body inclined towards the women, his eyes bright and focused as they only were when he was speaking with her or working on a case. Irene had her eyebrows raised and her arms crossed, but her mouth was twitching, as if she were going to smile.

"You cannot possibly kill someone with that," She said after Sherlock had at last fallen silent.

The detective rolled his eyes. "A weapon does not have to kill someone. It only has to defend the person who carries it. This does. This is a weapon."

"A banana?" Her voice rose on the last word, incredulous.

Sherlock waved the piece of fruit in her face, snapping it quickly through the air so the sound was audible. "of course."

John smiled. He had no idea where the discussion was going, but Sherlock had the odd look about him he normally got when he was going to have a rare moment of sarcasm-free humor. Whatever his friend had planned, Irene was the culprit.

"How is a banana a weapon, Mr. Holmes?" She said, using his full name as if it would disarm him.

That playful, childish grin spread across his face. "No one in your school ever played with a banana gun, Ms. Adler?"

Irene, realizing the danger, ducked, but not before a glob of wet banana struck her in the face. She made a sound like an angry cat, and Sherlock wisely chose to apologize.

Grinning, John deleted the blog entry he had just been about to post, and started a new one: Sherlock, The Women, and a banana-just an average day at 221B