Lactaphobia 5 Disclaimer: I OWN MONK!!!! Also, I have Say the Opposite of What You Mean Disease. ***************************************************** Sharona knocked, then walked into the apartment. "I brought your mail in." She rifled through it, then paused at one particular envelope. The name and address were typed. There was no return address. She frowned, pensively. "That doesn't look good." She handed the letter to Monk. "Hey, Adrian, look at this." "Gee, my own mail, think I should?" He took the letter. He opened it and read. His eyes widened noticeably. Then he shrugged, folded it, and put it neatly in his pocket. "What was it?" "Nothing, just a letter from an old school chum." Sharona scowled. "You're a terrible liar, give me that letter." She reached for it, but Monk dodged. "Give it to me." Monk saw her serious expression, and, looking very distraught, even for Adrian Monk, relinquished the letter. Sharona gasped. The paper was covered in magazine clipped letters.

Hello there, SuperCop, You like my work? Creative, isn't it? Pity they had to die, when you're the only one I want. You must feel so. . . what's the word. . . responsible for their deaths. But we won't dwell on that thought, seeing as this is a humor/romance fic, and we don't want it to get too angsty. (I hate angst fics, they just annoy me soooo much, I mean, it seems like all they ever are is teenagers being in love and afraid to say so, or teenagers being in love and one of them dies, and it's , like this whole big tragedy, so I hate it, but anyway, I should continue with my threatening letter.) They look so familiar, don't they? Surely someone as intelligent as you has noticed the resemblance. I thought it might make you nervous, was I right? Well, here's the bottom line: I'm watching you - I'm watching HER. Sometimes I watch through crosshairs. Get the picture, genius? I thought so.