It was morning by the time Danielle had caught her breath.

She hadn't been able to sleep after what happened. She was definitely in shock again, a new form of shock that was different than watching someone die. It wasn't worse, just mixed up into a whole new awful brand of shock.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to cry. Why couldn't she cry, again? With all these emotions running through her, crying should've been one of the first things she did.

After saving Catherine Aldernay's life, the woman had the audacity to blame Danielle for it? That was upsetting, infuriating. Every time she thought about it, her stomach rolled.

Like...why would Aldernay think Danielle was that horrid? That she would put Aldernay in a car for hours with a bomb strapped to her chest? How was any of that okay? They had tiffs as kids, everyone did. It had never gotten that bad!

But Danielle kept all of this in her head. Everything was hitting her all at once. She wanted a moment's peace to get her thoughts together. She was friends with Sherlock, so that was unlikely.

Lestrade grouped Danielle, Sherlock, and John back in his office. Danielle and John took the seats while Sherlock stood at the outward facing window.

"Catherine Alderney. She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out with enough explosives to take down a house." Lestrade explained.

Shame, fear, hurt. All of it boiled together in Danielle's stomach. She wanted to be sick.

She felt John's sorry gaze, more sorry that she was being personally involved in this than sorry out of pity. Sherlock's gaze- reflected in the window- was more analytical. He didn't care for personal reasons. He cared about the facts. The hostage hadn't been important. She was just a face. She was supposed to be just a face.

"Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager." Lestrade put down the pager.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off." Sherlock reasoned.

Those nasty feelings got worse. Poor Catherine. Sure, she wasn't one of Danielle's friends, or even a casual acquaintance, or one that she even liked, it didn't stop Danielle from feeling bad. No one liked saying they wanted a childhood bully to blow up.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case." John reminded him.

"Or if she tried to get help." Danielle could remember that fear. Being stuck in a small space, threatened with death if she made the wrong sound. This time, it hadn't gotten anyone killed.

Sherlock walked towards a window facing the many other detectives here. "Oh. Elegant." He breathed out.

The word dropped a stone into Danielle. It added to the terrible mixing pot inside. Did it have to keep getting worse? Why did Sherlock keep making it worse?

"'Elegant'?" John repeated.

"I'm more worried about what Catherine said." Lestrade began. "Why does she think Danielle did it?"

"I don't know. I mean..." She lifted her hand to her tired face. Her night had been haunted with images of Catherine screaming that she had done this, that she was responsible. "I barely knew her. It was primary school. Who remembers people from primary school?"

"She said you wanted to get back at her for something." Lestrade mentioned.

"I have no idea!" Danielle pleaded. "I didn't do this, Lestrade. I couldn't!"

Her heart clenched at it. The idea that Danielle's new friends were turning on her because of an old bully hurt her. Were these people really so gullible as to let Catherine Alderney manipulate them again after what happened last-

Danielle paled as the memory came to her. It was such a startling revelation that she felt her stomach drop to her knees. A horrible idea came to her, making details stand out more clearly than before in a way that made her believe what Catherine had said.

"Danielle, are you alright?" John asked, ever the doctor. "You look-"

He was interrupted by Sherlock. The consulting detective moved to be in front of Danielle. "You remembered something." Sherlock stated, callously.

"I...They were just kids. It was nothing, really." She wanted to believe that. She needed to believe that. She was probably wrong, anyway.

"What happened, Danielle?" John asked, empathetic to her plight.

She was shaking for another few seconds. She may have told them it was nothing, if anything it was the most traumatizing day of her life.

It was October. Danielle remembered that because it had started getting cold. A Thursday, because she had been trying all week to make friends in her class. None of them talked to her. They thought she was strange enough already, with her love of procedural crime shows. Any that didn't learn after today.

Catherine Alderney (the most popular girl in class! She had those sparkly gooey stickers and the new Barbie!) had come up to poor seven year old Danielle. The brunette said she'd be her friend if Danielle told one of the older boys that he was a tosser.

Seeing a light at the end of the friendless tunnel, Danielle immediately said yes without thinking for the consequences.

The boy was Carl Powers. He'd shoved her to the dirt after she shouted it. Kept calling her a freak and a 'weird little insect'. It hadn't helped when his friends started kicking dirt at her. It'd gotten in her eyes, maybe a bug too. Danielle remembered having to use that chemical water fountain for her eyes after.

She'd been shaken when she got to her feet. She thought it was all worth it to have Catherine Alderney for a friend. Until she heard Catherine laughing. It had all been a trick. A horrible, mean trick that a seven year old popular girl had pulled on her impressionable classmate.

The kids were worse to her after that. Always teasing her, always mocking her. She was called 'Dead Bug' for ages.

Danielle may have written off the memory, saying it was a childish prank. She was wrong. It had turned her against making any sort of friendship at school or anywhere really. Until she met Sherlock and John.

"Carl was just being a kid, Catherine too. I'm not angry with them, never have been." That was a bit of a lie too. It took her years to stop being hateful. To think of the event and (wrongfully) interpret it as a message to never make friends again.

"Carl and some of the other boys pushed me to the dirt, Catherine and the other girls laughed a little, called me names for ages, but all kids do that stuff in primary." She explained pleadingly to the men in the room. "I didn't have anything to do with it. I swear."

Sherlock's expression told her he felt differently. Sherlock would always know when she wasn't being completely honest. "Are you positive?"

"Yes." Danielle promised. "It was a stupid child's prank. I hold no anger towards them, I never did."

Again. Bit of a lie. Danielle didn't feel like sharing she'd had a lot of bad days where she thought about burning down the school. That might've been cause she read 'Carrie'. Point is: she never actually would've done it.

"But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?" Lestrade asked.

"Oh-I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored." Sherlock pointed out.

That was the least helpful thing Sherlock had ever said. Usually when people around Danielle were bored, they turned into the worst days of her life. That day at primary, the day they moved, so many arguments with her family, the day her dad died-

The phone went off again. Danielle tensed, grabbing the rails on her chair.

Sherlock opened the message. "You have one new message."

Four pips sounded off. Danielle tried to ignore how it sounded like a heart monitor.

"Four pips." John pointed out.

"Not five, so we must've done something right." Danielle agreed.

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second." Sherlock held up the phone. On it was an image of a car, complete with license plate.

Danielle hoped they didn't have to stop a cabbie again. She wasn't really ready to deal with that again.

"It's abandoned, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock asked Lestrade.

"I'll see if it's been reported." Lestrade picked up his desk phone.

Donovan stepped in. She held out another phone. "Freak, it's for you."

Sherlock wasn't even phased by the name. He simply took the phone, stepping out into the hall. "Hello?"

John stayed seated. He was stuck between watching Lestrade hunt down the car, or watch Danielle struggle not to scream or cry. Tough call, really.

Danielle decided to throw him a bone. She got out of her seat, stepping out of Lestrade's office.

"Who is this? Is this you again?" Sherlock asked.

Danielle tensed.

John must've seen it, the look of fear on Danielle's and the complete lack of expression on Sherlock. That was Sherlock's 'into battle' face. He stood up, stepping out of the office.

Danielle tried to hear the other side of the conversation.

Sherlock however could hear it just fine.

"Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him."

Sherlock turned to stare at Danielle. She seemed distressed again. John was as well, trying to give the landlady as much support as he could. Maybe that was the point. Muddle his blogger and neighbor with so many emotions they slowed him down.

"Carl laughed at us, so I stopped him laughing."

Sherlock filed away the use of 'us'. So this mystery man knew Danielle, knew of the apparent incident with Catherine and Carl. It was possible this was some ploy to distract Sherlock, to keep him from finding the man behind all of this. The illusion man who Sherlock could only suspect his name.

He hoped he had the right name...

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume." Sherlock noted. To his credit, the man on the other end was clearly crying.

"This is about you and me."

Sherlock heard something loud roar in the background. "Who are you?" More roars, but also honks. "What's that noise?"

"The sounds of life, Sherlock. But don't worry...I can soon fix that." The reader sniffled, letting out another sob before reading on. "You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight."

Sherlock started the countdown.

"We've found it." Lestrade informed him.

The phone call had ended. The newest hostage most likely told to do so. Sherlock turned to Lestrade, following after him. If John and Danielle were too slow, they'd be left here. Though Sherlock enjoyed having them along in his cases, the last thing he needed were two emotional people.

==NKMHLY==

The location was a drab sight. Or maybe that was just Danielle's imagination looking for anything else to think about. What would Aldernay think about this crime, Danielle wondered. Would she blame Danielle for it too?

She was lagging behind the whole group. John slowed his own pacing to let her catch up. She appreciated the gesture. She would probably need a doctor soon when her churning stomach decided to be sick. Donovan was walking with them too which didn't make

Lestrade was showing Sherlock the fancy car. "The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind; City boy. Paid in cash. Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived."

Danielle wrapped her arms around her stomach. John turned to her. "You alright?"

"Would you be?" Danielle asked. Her childhood bully wanted to blame her for bombings and murder. "Do I look peaky? I feel peaky."

John nodded. "Yeah, do you want to sit down-"

"You're still hanging round him."

Sally Donovan was like...the fourth to last thing Danielle wanted to deal with presently.

"Yeah, well-" John began.

"Opposites attract, I suppose." Donovan remarked. "Never thought I'd see one persom wanting to snog the freak, let alone two."

Danielle held back from slapping the woman. All that talk of how Sherlock treated the dead, Donovan just starts asking about their dating life? What a bloody hypocrite. Danielle even took care to not match with Sherlock today- dressing in a light gray jumper in contrast to Sherlock's dark blue coat. "Oi-"

"No, we're not-" John tried.

"You should get yourselves hobbies- stamps, maybe. Model trains. Shoes. Safer."

"You should get your own business so you stay out of ours." Danielle snapped.

Donovan ignored her. She walked away, sashaying like she was queen of the crime scene. Danielle seethed.

"If one more person talks to me like that-" Danielle didn't know how she'd finish that sentence. There would definitely be no biscuits or tea involved.

"Do you want to step out? Go talk to Westie's girlfriend instead?" John asked. "Or I could take you home?"

Danielle shook her head, letting out a breath. "No. There's no time. I don't want to make a fuss. Sherlock will be in a strop if we both leave."

John conceded that point.

"Before you ask, yes, it's Monkford's blood. The DNA checks out." Lestrade reported to Sherlock.

"No body." Sherlock replied.

"Not yet." Donovan answered, snide.

Sherlock stood up from the car, looking only at Lestrade. "Get a sample sent to the lab." He walked away from the detectives, joining Danielle and John. He gave them only a short bob of the head to follow him.

For something else to focus on, Danielle followed. John seemed to follow out of a desire to spite Donovan. Sherlock didn't ask, so neither of them said anything.

Sherlock walked them over to a nearby woman. She was crying. Danielle figured this was Mrs Monkford. Poor lady...

"Mrs Monkford?" Sherlock asked. The woman turned to them, wiping the tears on her cheek.

Ah, Danielle was right. That helped a bit. Not a lot, not enough to calm the torment in her stomach. It was just enough to make her smile. 'Wait- crime scene. Can't smile at those. Damn, good feelings gone.'

"Yes." Mrs Monkford sighed, sounding more like another held back sob. "Sorry, but I've already spoken with two policemen."

"No, we're not from the police; we're-" John tried.

Today must be 'Interrupt John Watson Day' cause that's exactly what Sherlock did. Should Danielle mark that on a calendar? It would be funny only to her, probably. "Sherlock Holmes." He held out his hand, adding sniffles and choked off sobs. "Very old friend of your husband's. We, um-...we grew up together."

"I'm sorry, who?" The wife still shook Sherlock's hand. She blinked at him in confusion. "I don't think he ever mentioned you."

"Oh, he must have done. This is...this is horrible, isn't it?" Sherlock sniffled again.

Danielle wondered how he could cry on cue. It was stellar. She and John looked at each other before quickly turning their heads. Both of them were unable to hide smiles. Danielle's lip kept wobbling with a giggle, she bit it to calm down.

"I mean, I just can't believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian- not a care in the world." Sherlock lied again.

"Sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months." Mrs Monkford corrected. "Who are you?"

Sherlock kept on with the bit. "Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that? It's a bit suspicious, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all." Mrs Monkford explained. She tried to look Sherlock in the eyes to get a read on him. Sherlock was just too good.

"Oh, well, that was Ian! That was Ian all over!" He laughed, still 'crying' over his friend.

"No it wasn't." Mrs Monkford insisted.

As quick as the tears came, they stopped. Sherlock dropped the half sobbed words to get back his deep deduction voice. If Danielle liked it, that was her business and no one else's. "Wasn't it? Interesting." He turned tail, leaving them.

Danielle and John went after him. A confused Mrs Monkford was left to ask a policewoman what had just happened.

"Why did you lie to her?" John asked Sherlock.

Sherlock wiped the tears from his eyes. Though he showed no signs of crying at all. "People don't like telling you things, but they love to contradict you."

"Yeah! Yeah she kept doing that." Danielle noted. "Hey how could you cry on cue like that?"

"Practice with getting Mycroft in trouble." Sherlock answered. Danielle should've known. "Past tense, did you notice?"

"Sorry, what?" John asked.

"I referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in." Sherlock explained. "Bit premature- they've only just found the car."

"And no body. She could just be pessimistic." Danielle suggested.

"Possible, but unlikely."

"You think she murdered her husband?" John asked.

"Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make." Sherlock replied.

They started walking to the street, ready to hail down a cab.

"I see." John hummed. "No, I don't. What am I seeing?" He immediately corrected himself.

"Fishing!" Danielle looked over her shoulder, quickly dismissing the woman behind them. Donovan was grinning-more smug than ever. "Try fishing! Or knitting!"

Danielle imagined stabbing a knitting needle into Donovan's eye. That perked her up. Wasn't a great hobby, and reminded her they were atca crime scene, still it made Danielle feel better.

John seemed just as fed up. Maybe not enough for murder, he respected ladies too much to assault them. Maybe he would like to sic Sherlock on Donovan? That could be fun. "Where now?"

"Janus Cars." Sherlock held up a business card. Danielle grabbed it. "Just found this in the glove compartment."

She didn't much like the logo they had chosen. "There's not even a reference to it."

"To what?" John asked.

"Janus. He's the Roman god of two faces, sometimes doors or time. I think there was a bit with endings and departures too. But nah, there's nothing on the card for it." Danielle pouted. She would've liked something about it there. That would've cheered her up too. "It would've been so cool..."

"Indeed." Sherlock replied. Internally, he was wondering if that was even useful information to have stored in one's brain. People had to remember the Prime Minister, the solar system, and Roman gods but not the many types of tobacco ash or unsolved murder from when they were kind? Tedious. "Taxi!"

==NKMHLY==

According to Danielle's timer, they had six hours left. She wasn't nervous or panicking. If she was, Sherlock was the only one that could prove it. He wouldn't snitch though.

At Janus Cars, they were invited into Mr Ewert's office. John and Danielle took the seats in front of the desk while Sherlock paced the office to observe it.

"Can't see how I can help you." Mr Ewert admitted with a put out sigh, like it was really disappointing that he couldn't help.

"Mr Monkford hired the car from you yesterday." John asked.

"Yeah. Lovely motor." Ewert praised. "Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself!"

Danielle wouldn't embarrass herself by making a comment about the car. All she remembered about it was that it was dark gray...or normal gray. Maybe it was black?

"Is that one?" Sherlock pointed out into the car lot.

Ewert glanced over. He shook his head. "No, they're all Jags. Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?"

Again, Danielle was keeping her mouth shut. If she kept quiet-

"I usually expect it from the ladies, you know?"

Damn. Was it also Insult Danielle Day, and Danielle forgot?

Sherlock straightened up. John did too, giving Danielle a questioning glance. "But, er, surely you can afford one– a Mazda, I mean?"

"Yeah, it's a fair point. But you know how it is: it's like working in a sweetshop." Ewert reasoned. "Once you start picking at the liquorice allsorts, when does it all stop, eh?" He scratched at something under his sleeve.

"So you didn't know Mr Monkford before yesterday?" Danielle asked.

"Yeah, he was just a client." Ewert confirmed. "Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor sod."

"Nice holiday, Mr Ewert?" Sherlock prompted.

"Eh?"

"You've been away, haven't you?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, the-the.." Ewert pointed to his slightly tanned skin. "No, it's, er, sunbeds, I'm afraid, yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though– bit of sun."

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?" Sherlock prompted. Danielle didn't believe for a second he wanted a cig. He was doing questions for deductions. He would go stop it for a personal question. Besides if he really wanted change, he would take it from John or Danielle then wait for them to notice.

"What?"

"Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change." Sherlock held out a ten pound note. "I'm gasping."

"Um, well." Ewert pulled out his wallet. "Hmm...No, sorry."

"Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr Ewert." Sherlock walked towards the door. "You've been very helpful. Come on, Danielle, John."

Danielle stood up, straightening out her jumper before going. She did not Ewert a pleasant farewell. She got that she was bad at cars, he didn't need to say anything about it.

"I-I've got change if you still want to, uh..." John offered.

"He was lying." Danielle stated before Sherlock got the chance. He eyed her, curious and seemingly impressed. "Usually if he wants the change, he pinches it off us then tells us later. Remember he did it with that tenner of you're last week."

"Wait, that was him?"

"Yes, John, do keep up." Sherlock tapped his arm. "I use nicotine patches, remember? I'm doing well."

"I thought it'd misplaced it." John was still going on about his ten pound note.

"It's probably the one he offered Ewert." Danielle added.

John was more than a little upset, marching after Sherlock. "Is it?"

"Course it is." Sherlock answered. "I'd give it back, but we need it to get to Bart's."

"Right. Why did you nearly give him my money?" John asked.

"I needed to look inside his wallet."

"Why?"

"Mr Ewert's a liar." Sherlock answered.

==NKMHLY==

They split ways after that. John wanted to check the flat for any other of his missing pounds. Danielle went with him to care for her pets. Petting a cat for an hour was a great way to relieve stress. Take that for a hobby, Sally Donovan.

And yeah, petting a cat was also a Bond villain thing. Danielle was ignoring that. Any thoughts like that were because of old bullies that were best left in the past. Besides, Danielle was petting her dog too.

There were almost three hours on the clock when Sherlock stormed into her flat. He dragged Danielle and John off to NSY car pound. Lestrade was invited too.

Sherlock gathered them around Monkford's car. "How much blood was on that seat, would you say?"

"How much? About a pint." Lestrade answered.

"Not 'about.' Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood's definitely Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen." Sherlock revealed.

"Frozen?" Lestrade asked.

"There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seats." Sherlock explained.

"Who did?" John asked.

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name." Sherlock stated. He glanced at Danielle.

Danielle knew when she was being called on. "The god with two faces."

"Exactly." Sherlock praised. Danielle couldn't tell if he was praising her, or them.

"Ah." Danielle hummed. John did too.

"They provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of a problem– money troubles, bad marriage, whatever– Janus Cars will help you disappear." Sherlock explained to the class. "Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble– financial, at a guess; he's a banker. Couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver's seat-"

"So where is he?" John asked.

"Colombia." Sherlock answered.

"Colombia?!" Lestrade asked, incredulous.

"Mr Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Colombian peso note in his wallet." Sherlock explained. "Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly. No-one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm."

"His arm?" Lestrade asked.

"Kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding." Sherlock informed the detective. "Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: he'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Colombia. Mrs Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars."

"Mrs Montford the wife?" Danielle asked.

Sherlock nodded. "Oh yes. She's in on it too." Sherlock looked to Lestrade. "Now go and arrest them, Inspector. That's what you do best." Sherlock turned from Lestrade, instead to his friends. "We need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved."

He started off back down the hall. Danielle wondered if they needed to be with the car for all of that, that they just wasted a bit of time on this just so Sherlock could show off. Catherine Aldernay didn't get extra time with a bomb because Sherlock wasted time showing off. It more than peeved her.

"I am on fire!" Sherlock cheered as they left.

Danielle figured the phrasing was bad too. One doesn't just casually mention being on fire when there was a bomb threat.

==NKMHLY==

Danielle was worrying her lip in 221B, sitting on the red armchair. She watched Sherlock typing out his blogpost.

He could've done that from his phone. Hell, he could've done that when he got John and Danielle an hour earlier. Some random man wore a bomb for an hour longer than needed so Sherlock could prove his own cleverness.

Danielle wasn't usually this bitter, she knew that. The awful feeling in her stomach settled itself firmly in her stomach all day, making every breath feel like the last before she got sick. She didn't want to be so mean towards Sherlock. She knew he could go help bring like this, being smug and showboating his own cleverness.

Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Colombia.

Danielle shifted in the chair. Every second was tense, leaving her off footed in the worst way. She wanted to scream, to cry, to yell at the world for making her feel this bad.

She probably needed to eat. The nauseous feeling didn't exactly give Danielle a good reason to put more food in her stomach. As soon as the new person was okay, Danielle would grab takeaway. And could manage that. It would be fine.

Should she apologize to Sherlock? He would feel like that much. Danielle technically hadn't done anything wrong except think. Sherlock tended to only hate Anderson thinking or talking. Danielle still felt guilty for thoughts she hadn't shared.

The pink phone rang. Sherlock answered, putting it on speaker.

"He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me, please."

Sherlock grinned at John and Danielle. The smile didn't bring comfort. It only reminded her of how awful she felt inside.

What an awful friend she was, thinking about her friend like that. Thinking the very way Catherine Aldernay and all those other kids taught Danielle to think about people. She was supposed to have gotten better...she really needed something to eat.

==NKMHLY==

AN: Yeah this took longer than I thought. Sims 4 is what I choose to blame. I mean and school shit. Hope everyone is okay.

Please feel free to leave a review! It really means a lot when you guys tell me what you think of the chapters!

Thanks to manu18, Dreamingmydaysaway, Anzio Cappiccino, TooMuchBatman, hanhanxo, cookie301200, peanut0210, for favoriting

Thanks to knightwatchers, manu18, Anzio Cappiccino, TooMuchBatman, hanhanxo, cookie301200, peanut0210, for following