Sherlock was on the sofa, drifting through his mind palace, largely ignoring John as he had been for the better part of two hours now. Mary had taken their daughter, Emily to the pediatrician for a standard check-up, and she suggested to John that he should spend a little time with Sherlock after he got out of the clinic.

The day hadn't gone too badly. The clinic had been slow enough that John was able to leave a bit early. He and Sherlock had gone to that chip shop that Sherlock likes and grabbed a quick bite. Then they spent a couple of hours at Bart's while Sherlock checked on some cultures and in general made himself a nuisance for Molly. Now, John was in his chair, tea to the side, milling through the paper, waiting for Sherlock to drop some nugget of wisdom on him. Suddenly, the detective's phone pinged.

Jumping up suddenly and grabbing his coat and scarf, 'That's Lestrade; apparently there's been a murder, come John, quickly."

"Now wait a minute…."

"Murder, John. Do hurry up."

John, of course, had to race to keep up with him then; Sherlock usually only knew the one speed. Once John got to the front stoop of the flat, Sherlock was already flagging a cab.

"So where are we going?"

"The Thames, near Lambeth Bridge, seems as though a body washed up."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Lestrade was a bit vague about the details. He knows I don't like that. Either he knows more than he's letting on, which I doubt; or he knows absolutely nothing at all, which is the most likely scenario."

"Still pissed that he tossed you out of the last crime scene?"

"Of course. Anderson is a complete moron. I'm surprised we solved that case at all, and as quickly as we did. If it would have been left to Anderson, the unsolved rate would sky rocket."

"Yes, but you have to stop picking fights with the police and play nice. I have told you this all before."

"That's what I have you for."

"Sherlock…"

"We're here."

Sherlock got out, making his way over to Lestrade and the body, leaving John the task of paying the driver.

"He's a bit of a nutter, yeah?"

"You have no idea. But if you think he's impossible, you should meet his brother." John couldn't help but commiserate with the observant driver. The driver drove away after tipping his hat to his former passenger. What John could see was the driver dialing a number as he pulled away, explaining to his listener that the detective was now on the case. His listener was actually quite happy about this. Now that Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson had been brought into the picture, the game would be even more interesting. Hanging up the driver headed a few streets away, dumping the car, and torching it.

John, after paying the driver had hustled over to Sherlock after receiving the warning that he was taking too long to suit him.

"Yes, your majesty is there something I can do for you?"

"There's no reason to get so testy, John."

"I was merely making polite conversation. You should try it sometime."

"Irrelevant."

John just closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and prayed for strength.

"If you ladies are finished, can you maybe….work the case?"

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Gavin?" Sherlock just looked at Greg with an eyebrow arched in challenge.

"The body's over here, well what's left of it at least,' Greg responded with a warning tone. "Unidentified female, 35-40, brown hair."

"John, what do you notice?

"The extremities were severed, cleanly. I wouldn't go so far as to say that the person who did this had a medical background, a basic working knowledge of the human body would suffice."

"Have the limbs been found?"

"We have people searching as we speak. With any luck, they will be found shortly."

John looked closer at the body, 'Because of the way that water tends to treat a body, getting an accurate time of death will be difficult until Molly starts her work, but I would say that this happened somewhere within the last thirty-six hours."

"You sure?"

"Not spot on, but it seems like to me if the body had been at this location for more than a couple of hours it would have been found before now. This girl, whoever she was, would have been dead somewhere between twenty-four and thirty-six hours, dumped in the river at a different location, and then the body floated down this way."

"Nice work John."

"Why thank you, Sherlock."

From the sidelines, Layla had been watching and listening; curiosity was killing her, and since the case likely had something to do with her, she rushed forward to see what she could learn.

"You can't go past the tape." Donovan tried to stop her, but Layla shrugged her off and continued, making her way closer.

Getting closer to Lestrade and the two other men, Layla began to take in everything.

"Layla, I told you to stay behind the tape."

"Lestrade, it's bad enough when Anderson tramples the seen, destroying evidence…."

"Oh, shut up."

Sherlock looked rather taken aback that anybody, anybody besides John that is, would talk back to him in such a way.

"Hello, I'm John Watson, and you're my hero." John said, extending his hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you sir, I've heard quite a bit about you. And might I say that if this is what he's always like then you deserve a medal."

"Since you seem intent on trampling the crime scene, do you have anything of any substance to add?" Sherlock was getting more perturbed by the minute.

"First of all, this isn't a crime scene. No blood. No footprints, aside from those that the authorities created. Her body parts are nowhere to be found. If this was the actual scene of the crime or even the dump site there would be something here that the killer left behind. She washed up here. So back off, I'm not ruining anything; the river has done that for you already."

Layla walked closer to the body, looking over what was left, kneeling down, stroking the young woman's hair; Lestrade could hear her sniff.

"You can't be serious. We let the freak in and now I guess what, other civilians get a pass as well?"

"Anderson…." Before Lestrade could finish his reprimand, Layla had rushed over and landed a left hook on the man's lower jaw.

"Layla! Come here!" Lestrade grabbed her by the arm. "What were you thinking? He is an officer of the law; under normal circumstances, I would be charging you with assault."

"Then do it. I'll probably be out before you finish filing the paperwork."

"You'd actually play the Mycroft card?"

"If I am forced to."

"How do you know my brother?"

"Since you know everything, why don't you tell me?"

"What is your problem? Your attitude was much better earlier."

"I know this girl. Well, at least I did. I worked with her a couple of times. The name she went by was Brigit…Irish folklore, she was into it. But her name was Moira, I only knew her first name. She was a good girl." With that she turned and started walking away.