Honestly, I didn't tink I was going to put up a second part to this story because the first was so difficult to write but this just poured from me like a fountain. Halfway into the second paragraph, you can tell where I decided to make this a cross over with the whoniverse instead of jus a Sherlock ff. And then I realised that this would be an excellent second part. Also I think once John joined Torchwood, he would go back to soldier mode.

Deanna knew that taking this job in her mum's boyfriend's store was a bad idea. It wasn't in the best part of Cardiff and she was afraid of creepy perverts on a good day. Now, she'd witnessed a murder.

Well, she sort of witnessed it. She'd seen something but what, she wasn't sure. It wasn't the sort of petty crime or gang banging she'd come to expect in the neighbourhood. No, it was really unexpected and quite honestly, she was pretty sure she was remembering it wrong. Guns didn't fire light all 'pew pew,' Star Wars style, did they? Still, despite her fear of being put in a mental facility, she told the detective inspector and sergeant what she'd seen. They looked between each other before grabbing her a shock blanket. She took it gratefully, doubting herself too much to be offended.

And then the Arse came. He'd scoffed at her story before rudely demanding that she be tested for drugs. She'd placed her hands on her hips, orange blanket falling to the ground forgotten.

"On what grounds?" She asked indignantly, decidedly ignoring the fact that she'd just recounted the tale of a man that'd just been shot by a visible laser beam from an assailant just outside of her field of vision. The Arse smirked at her.

"You're a university drop out, you're a shop girl at a family store and you live with your mother. You're in the right age group, you won't be drug tested and because you live with your mother, you have all the dispensable income needed to sustain a drug habit despite what meagre rent she charges in order to pretend that she's instilling some sense of responsibility in you."

She was shocked and more than a little angry. She wanted to voice her displeasure but all she could for a moment was an impressive impression of a goldfish.

"Well, am I wrong?" It was more of a dare than a question and she wasn't sure which one would dissapoint him more.

Either way, he was right. She smoked cannabis almost weekly and when she was still in school, she'd do a few lines every now and again to keep her head in the game.

"Well, I, yeah but nothing hallucinogenic and never before work." She gestured around her. "I don't have a death wish just yet."

The Arse nodded, smirking. "I figured, I just wanted to hear you say it." Deanna's fist curled and the Arse's mostly quiet friend hesitated before putting a gentle but warning hand on her shoulder.

The man who was actually her height, maybe shorter, just met her gaze and shook his head. Deanna knew he knew that the Arse deserved a swift kick to the bollocks but the short man wouldn't allow it. Working at that store in that neighbourhood, she'd come to recognise silent but deadly and was wary of it appropriately. She backed down.

So Deanna wasn't going pepper spray him, it didn't mean he was the only one around able to identify a drug problem. She grinned a bit.

"What's your excuse, then?" She expected to surprise the Arse with this question but he just smiled... sort of. She wasn't particularly sure the way his lips curled could be considered a smile. She expected at least a response from the Arse but when none came, his bodyguard spoke up.

"How do you mean?" He asked warily.

"He's obviously itching for his next fix. I wonder what's keeping you from it this time. If it was money, you would have pawned that ridiculous coat a long time ago." She said condescendingly, arms folded triumphantly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked, trying to play off his friend's drug habit.

"Don't be daft, John." The Arse gestured to their surroundings. "Look at where she works. She's had to be observant or she'd have been a case by now." Deanna shuddered imagining her mum identifying her body in the morgue. "Being able to spot addicts at a distance, even high-fucntioning ones, has kept her alive."

The Arse's companion, John, grimaced at the man's turn of phrase. "Right, well-"

"Isn't it refreshing to meet someone who isn't a complete moron?" The Arse took a deep breath as if it were the first gasp of fresh air he'd had in a long time.

"Sherlock..."

The Arse ignored him. He leaned in conspiratorially and Deanna had to resist the urge to back away from. "Listen and listen carefully because I won't bother to repeat it." Her eyes widened. If she wasn't interested in the man who died by laser, she was now.

"That man did die by laser beam and judging by the angle of fire, it was from a dalek. An alien bin with golden baubles on it," he said answering her unasked question. "Now the general public isn't supposed to know that we've had contact with aliens at this point in history so its vitally important that you change your story to a man with a glowing hot pipe ran him through." Deanna quirked an eyebrow. "Yes I know that is absolutely ridiculous but you'd be surprised what the police will believe when the truth is more unlikely."

Before she could say anything, the Arse flew away as if the previous conversation never happened. She looked between him and the man she now knew as John.

"Is he mad?"

John sighed. "I wish he was." He reached into his coat pocket. "Write, in your own words, what Sherlock said."

Deanna frowned but complied. The Arse may have annoyed the hell out her but this man, John, scared her. She doubted the man wanted to her but she knew that he could. The Arse was right when he'd said she read people to survive.

She signed the statement before looking up at John who had a labeless bottle in his hand. "Thirsty?" He offered the bottle.

She shook her head warily. She'd seen enough Uni PSAs to know where taking an open drink from a stranger would lead.

Unfortunately, John wouldn't let her off that easily. He clenched his jaw. "Drink it. Please." Deanna marveled at how he made 'please' sound like a threat.

"What's going to happen to me if I do?"

"You should be more worried about what will happen if you don't."