Part four: In which Donovan and Moriarty get on fabulously.
"So. You're the newest consulting detective?" Donvan asked, giving the man before her a long stare.
"It's all the rage now," said the man, shrugging. "Besides, why let Sherlock have a monopoly? Those are illegal, you know."
"You know him then," Donovan said flatly.
"Oh, yes."
"And are you going to start giggling over dead children?" she demanded icily.
"No, I take murder very seriously," the man replied. "Right Seb?" He turned to the more athletic man besides him, who nodded.
"And you aren't going to comment on the state of my knees, or speculate on any affair I might or might not be having with Anderson?"
"N-o," the man replied. His eyes followed Anderson speculatively, with a nod of appreciation, and his companion's hand twitched.
Donovan tapped her boot against the pavement, and then held out her hand. "I'm Sally Donovan, then, and you had better follow me."