AN: Thanks to lazy-shika for pointing out that these aren't really 221 B drabbles, they're just 221 words long :) The story description now fits that. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.
Bygones
It started with Dr. Watson.
During a conversation—a rather explosive conversation—he planted a seed of doubt in Sally Donovan's mind, and it was taking root.
She went to work.
Every case the freak had ever worked on—even if he had dismissed it as dull—every witness he had spoken to, every shred of evidence he had scrounged up, every confession he had drawn out, she checked and double checked.
Every murderer he had put in prison.
Every priceless possession he had recovered.
Every victim he had saved.
He could have been orchestrating all of these crimes… but it would have been incredibly difficult and complex. Most of them couldn't have even drawn a profit. But maybe he was only behind some of the crimes. It was possible…
But there was no evidence for it. Not one scrap.
Donovan had been as astonished by the freak's abilities as anyone when he first started. She was also quickly fed up with how he walked all over everyone—her, her coworkers, her boss. It had been appealing to believe that he was terrible through and through, that even the crime solving had been a sham. As amazing as his crime scene deductions had been, the idea that he had both fabricated and solved these crimes without being caught…
That was unbelievable.