Author's note: So we're finally going to see an interview of someone else... Also, yes, Violet Hunter is a character from a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle story ("The Copper Beeches"), but other than the name, there isn't much to tier her to it... Let's just say, it popped into my head, and I thought why not?

I don't own anything, please review.

Sherlock continued pacing in the interview room, and Greg was once more reminded of a caged tiger ready to pounce on anyone who might happen to walk into his lair. He tried to calm him down somewhat.

"Sherlock" he said. His consulting detective apparently didn't hear him, so he tried again. "Sherlock!"

At least he stopped pacing and looked at him. "Yes? What is it?" He sounded nervous, and Greg couldn't blame him.

"Relax. Yes, we still have to prove she did it, but at least we have another suspect. And we both know you are going to solve this case."

He had hoped for a smile, but Sherlock shook his head. "The problem is... Greg, we both know what would happen if this case went to court now. Harry would be convicted."

"At least she'd have to get sober for real then..." Greg answered. "But you're right, I don't think that would be an acceptable outcome".

Sherlock shot him an amused look. The DI raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

""An acceptable outcome" – and you're telling me John's starting to talk like me?"

"At least we're not alone" Greg replied, shrugging his shoulders, and, this time, he was rewarded with a smile.

There was a knock on the door and Sally came in. She managed not to look Greg in the eyes without appearing disrespectful – she apparently didn't know what to think about herself giving money for Sherlock's violin – and said, "She's here. I'll have her brought in."

Greg opened his mouth, but Sherlock was quicker. "Thank you, Sally".

She left the room without looking at either of them, and Greg suppressed a smirk.

"You might want to send her to a doctor – first she breaks things off with Anderson, then she is polite to me, then she gets embarrassed" Sherlock mumbled, distractedly.

He didn't answer, because a PC brought Violet Hunter in at this moment.

Even Greg, who was lucky enough to very soon have a date with a rather pretty pathologist, couldn't deny she was attractive. She was bleached blonde, just like the victim had been, she was slim, and she was rather tall for a woman – almost as tall as him.

She also looked far from happy.

"Miss Hunter? I am DI Lestrade, this is Sherlock Holmes. Please sit down. We have to ask you a few questions."

She sat down, glaring at them both and Greg mused that she and Harry must have been a good match.

"Why am I here, Inspector?"

Greg laid a picture of Mary – when she'd been alive – on the table.

"This young woman was found murdered – "

"I don't know anything about that."

"Where were you Saturday evening?"

"At work. I work for the Ministry of Defence, we often have to work on weekends."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"I was alone in the office". She shrugged. She seemed very unconcerned for someone who had just been told, more or less, that they were a person of interest in a murder investigation. Even if he hadn't heard Sherlock explain everything, Greg would have been suspicious. People tended to be nervous when they were picked up by the police.

He saw Sherlock look at him from the corner of his eye, asking for permission. He nodded slightly.

"Do you know someone called Harriet Watson?"

Violet's eyes lit up with recognition – though she seemed less concerned about her ex-lover; she was staring at Sherlock.

"Oh, of course. I knew I had heard your name before – you're this amateur detective Harry's brother is always hanging out with."

Greg managed not to wince, but just barely. This was not good. Sherlock hated being called an "amateur" – quite simply because he wasn't one.

To his credit, his friend didn't seem to have heard the word at all. He just looked at her, deducing what he could, and asked, simply, "Did you care about Harry Watson?"

She tried to shrug her shoulders in an off-hand manner, but her eyes flashed dangerously for a moment, and Greg knew she knew he'd seen it.

"We had something. For a few months. Then I found out she had had a girlfriend the whole time. I ended it. I'll admit it took me embarrassingly long to realize – but it has happened to others before me. No big deal."

"She has your picture next to her bed" Greg decided to interrupt.

"Has she? Maybe she should have thought about what she was doing, then."

"Had she started drinking again before you were involved?"

"She's drinking again? Didn't know that. No, I don't think so. I never saw her drunk."

Greg nodded, looking at Sherlock. The consulting detective resumed the interview and showed her the belt.

"Have you ever seen this belt before?"

She shrugged. "Could be – it's just a belt".

"It belongs to Harry Watson".

"If you say so".

"You used it to strangle Mary".

He had hoped that she would start, be shocked, surprised, anything really. But she just smiled.

"Prove it, then".

She knew they couldn't; she knew everything pointed towards Harry; she knew they –

But she didn't know him. She didn't know what Sherlock Holmes was capable off. As he looked into her icy blue eyes, he swore to himself that he'd solve this case. For John.

Greg sighed. They'd have to let her go. They didn't even have enough for a search warrant of her house. Then he had an idea. Maybe their case wasn't as hopeless as he thought.

"We will. Miss Hunter, you can go".

She strode out with a last contemptuous glance, and Sherlock looked at Greg. "Why..."

"Think, Sherlock. We need more data, as you'd undeniably put it. And who can get us more data when our suspect works at the MOD?"

Realization flashed in Sherlock's eyes. "I'm going to call Mycroft".

John and Mike got coffee – or something resembling coffee – from the machine.

"You'll see, John, Sherlock will clear it all up in no time".

"That may be, but he still needs evidence."

"You know he never gives up".

"That's true". John smiled. Then he grimaced. "Mike, I – "

"Broke his violin. Molly told me." Mike shook his head. "I'm sure he understands you're under a lot of pressure right now".

"But still..." John had a thought. "I have to call someone".

"Sure. I'll just sit down on the bench in the corridor that leads to the interview rooms" Mike answered, already turning around, musing that once upon a time, he'd never have thought that he'd be as familiar with the interior of Scotland Yard as he was with that of St Bart's.

John went into Greg's office to make the call without being overheard.

Mycroft picked up immediately.

"John".

"Mycroft. I'm rather sure you know that – "

"Yes, I am aware of your fight. And I went to pick up the violin. I'm afraid it cannot be repaired."

John winced, though he'd expected it.

"Are you... going to get him a new one? If so, please take money from my account..."

"I'm afraid it costs more than what you can offer, but, seeing as Mrs. Hudson, DI Lestrade, Molly Hopper, Mike Stamford, and, I believe, Sergeant Donavan already gave money, I am not going to reject it. But I won't take all."

John took a deep breath. "Good. That's good, then – wait a moment, Donavan?"

"DI Lestrade informed that a "colleague" had given him money, and I think she is the most likely..."

"Yes, yes, I think you're right" John said, before remembering that Mycroft hated to be interrupted. There was silence at the other end. "Sorry".

"No need to apologize, John. This haven't been easy days for you." Another pause. "But, if you should continue to upset Sherlock, you might be even more sorry than before. Goodbye."

He hung up and John swore to himself that he'd never go near Sherlock's violin when he was angry again. Then he slowly made his way towards the corridor where Mike sat on the bench.

His old friend smiled at him, but stood up. "John, Sue just called. Apparently Davey hasn't stopped crying for two hours, and she wants to take him to the doctor – "

"Of course, Mike, go. Your family should be more important right now..."

"You're part of it too, John. I'll tell Davey that Uncle John and Uncle Sherlock wish him all the best". Then, with another smile, he was gone, and John sat down on the bench again.

Before long, he saw a blonde woman apparently being escorted out of the building, Sherlock and Greg walking behind her, and John only had to look at their face to know that they hadn't got anywhere.

"It's not over, John" Greg said, stopping beside the doctor and watching Violet Hunter leave the Yard.

"We have a plan. She's working for the MOD – Sherlock's going to call Mycroft for information."

Sherlock was already making the call, and said as a way of greeting, "Brother dear, I need your help."

"I assume it has to do with Violet Hunter?"

"Yes."

"I'll mail you her file".

"Thanks".

"Oh, and greetings to John and DI Lestrade."

Sherlock hung up and looked at his phone with raised eyebrows.

"Mycroft is going to send me her file – and he says hi" he said, sounding confused.

John and Greg smiled at each other. It seemed like Mycroft had done what they had asked him to do.

Author's note: Shorter chapter, but something happened and the last one was longer, so...

And, no, still can't let go of the violin idea... I thought it was time John did something. He'd definitely want to replace it, I'm sure of it. And it's still cute. Of course Mycroft had to be a little threatening – he's a big brother, and his younger sibling was sad because the violin got broken. Let's put it like that: You make my little brother sad, your life isn't worth much.

So, how's your bromance overdose working out for you? I'm fine – my mind just got a little bit weirder.

Mind: That's not true...

Me: You are aware that you are my mind, right? So I know what you're thinking.

Mind: And?

Me: The answer is no. We will not start carrying around an umbrella and become the Secret Service.

Mind: Why not?

Me:...

Mind: see, you don't have an answer.

Me: Why do I even bother.

I hope you liked it, please review.