Perhaps... it might not be as troublesome as it would seem in forethought.

What if I hate it in hindsight?

What could go wrong? Worst case scenario, John will hate me more than he already does.

The wind is strong, it's sweeping my coat around me as I stand staring at the cold corpse before me. It takes me back to a simpler time, when it was just John and I against the world, now things are far to complicated. This man has fallen to his death from a building close to St. Bart's, and if I didn't already have plans to visit the rooftop later I would.

Am I going to jump? Absolutely not. I just need to think, and it's the only place where I'm not expected to act alright.

"We're not sure what happened... he had everything to live for." Detective (?) babels while I try to think. It's really annoying. I already determined what happened here, but I still have things I'm working out while I think about other things...

Falling behind aren't we? You used to focus much better, pity you're lame and boring now.

Shut up.

"If you would look at the everything you would understand and know what happened, not I would appreciate some quiet, thank you."

"I don't appreciate your tone." He fires with a deep growl in his voice. "We invited you here because Lestrade thinks you're important and have some brilliant brain."

My eyes instantly lock on the ground, I find myself no longer interested in the case.

"From what I heard you went and threw yourself off a building just like he did."

"What's wrong over here?" Donovan walks up from behind me, taking a step between Detective... who is this man? we'll call him not-Lestrade, and myself.

"He's making half-cocked remarks, he's not worth our time." He rolls his eyes, still very bothered by my 'half-cocked' remark.

"Well you need to take a walk to blow some steam off." She crosses her arms, seemingly siding with me.

She thinks you're to weak to handle criticism, and she's right, Sherlock.

Get out of my head.

I'm never leaving you, Sherlock.~

"You're sticking up for him?" Detective not-Lestrade raises an eyebrow, also crossing his arms.

"No, I'm preserving the crime scene, no one should start a fight while we're still collecting evidence."

"Unbelievable." He huffs, "You really think this cock can help us, don't you?"

"Maybe I do." Donovan doesn't back down.

"Donovan, Detective not-Lestrade is right." My eyes return to the ground. "I was making uncalled for remarks, and I apologize."

"No, I heard what you said." She turn to me, causing me to step back without thinking. "You were right."

"Don't side with me out of pity." I snarl. "I'm the same as I've always been."

"That's what worries me." Her patience seems to be wearing thin, she's tapping her foot slowly as she does when there are things not sitting right with her.

"Oh, and perhaps I'm supposed to think that a simple misunderstanding is not the cause for your changed behavior?"

"Maybe I chose to believe you for once."

"Or you chose to believe me out of guilt, or the need to relieve your conscience."

"Of what?"

"What really happened between you and Anderson?"

"Screw you." Her face lights up with fury, it would seem I hit a 'sore' spot.

"Perhaps I should mention how long you two were having an affair-"

"You freak." Her words barely leave her mouth before her eyes widen in shock. "Oh god."

"That's the Donovan I know." I sigh, not liking the look on her face now for some reason... or is it that I don't like that I drove her to call me a freak again? Nothing has changed between us, I respect her for the work she does, and she distrusts me because I see things she can't. It's simple.

"Sherlock..." She hesitates, seeming to feel remorseful for some strange reason.

"What's going on over here?" Lestrade strides up, taking in the situation with an air of anxiety under the surface.

"This stupid cock is verbally harassing Donovan." Detective not-Lestrade scoffs, looking incredibly displeased with this whole deal.

"Hey," Lestrade snaps, "he is not a cock." His finger is pointed at me.

"Sure." Detective not-Lestrade leaves without another word, having had enough of my... me.

"Don't listen to him, Sher-"

"The victim didn't jump, he was pushed." I cut Lestrade off, not wanting to deal with anymore pity. "There are mirror bruises to his neck, probably strangled him long enough to knock him out not kill him, them they took him to the roof and pushed him off. There are also ligature marks on his wrists, he was being held captive, the tattoo on his neck is from-..." My mouth goes dry when I recognize a tattoo on the mans neck, or more specifically, where it originated.

Serbia.

"Here, have some water." A man stood over me, a canteen in hand.

I refused to speak to him, it was easier to endure the torture in silence than to let them hear me speak.

"It's not poisoned." The man laughed quietly, sitting in a chair in the corner of my cell. "I'm Dmitri."

Still, I refused to utter a word.

"No one can get who you are, though, they all think you're a spy of some sort, maybe a cop."

What does he want?

"I think you're something different." He placed the canteen on the chair as he stood, leaving it discarded and allowing it to pour out onto the ground before my eyes. That in of itself was nearly the worst torture they could inflict upon me... but there was something new coming , something I had yet to endure... something that would have completely broken me if not for Mycroft reaching me in time.

"Why don't you tell me your name so I don't have to hurt you?"

Despite how tempting his offer was, I refused. If I gave in than everything I had done would have been destroyed. This is for Lestrade, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson and... and for John.

What if he hates me if- when, when I make it home to him?

"You really don't need to go this route." Dmitri tuts, unhappy with my lack of compliance.

In an instant the false kindness was torn back to reveal a harsher and much more brutal terror.

"Fine." He moves to stand behind me. Before I can think there is a sharp pain on my back, causing me to grit my teeth. "Don't play nice."

Another blow lands, followed by another. "Name!"

This carries on for several minutes before the flogging stops, but the torture wasn't over... in fact, it was just about to begin.

"This is going to hurt." The sound of a zipper makes my blood run cold.

Oh god.

"Hey, are you alright?" Donovan's voice brings me back to the present.

"What- fine, yes I'm- I'm fine." Blinking rapidly, I try to push the thoughts away, but find that I'm entering the beginning stages of an 'anxiety attack' as Mycroft put it when we were children.

"You sure?" Lestrade doesn't believe me.

"This was a suicide, the bruising isn't significant enough for... he wasn't being held captive, this is strictly consensual-bruising."

"What-bruising?" Lestrade looks lost.

"He was tied, but it's not enough bruising for it to have been meant for harm."

"You mean he had kinks." Donovan states bluntly.

"... yes..." Awkwardness enters the air as we stare at each other. She doesn't believe me, and she shouldn't, this was intentional.

He was murdered.

"So... suicide?" Lestrade clears his throat, ending the silence.

"Yes, now, I need to go." Without stopping to listen to whatever they're telling me, I leave.

I need to talk to Mycroft.

He has some explaining to do, this man was supposed to already be dead.