Sherlock is diagnosed with a terminal illness. Warning: angst like whoa.

"Put me in the ring," Matt said. His glasses reflected the meager light and the left lens was cracked like a spider's web. In the shifting shadows it looked as if he was raising his hackles in disgust. "The House doesn't profit from quick deaths," said the jailor, and Foggy wanted to punch his face in.

The boy from the train was right. In order to be Sorted, they really did have to fight a troll.