A/N: I've decided to try something with Donovan's dialogue. When it's written from her point of view, I don't write out her accent since she knows in her mind what she's saying. However, from another character's perspective, I do write it out since that's what they hear. If you do or don't like this choice, do let me know. I welcome any and all feedback. The Sherlock Holmes series belongs to ACD. The programme Sherlock belongs to Gatiss and Moffat.

The Viewpoint of Sgt Sally Donovan

Well, this is certainly new. I haven't had a house guest since... well, since I was still living at home. That was ages ago. But, I'm doing this for Lestrade. I remember when Gregson left. I wasn't even a sergeant yet back then. I was there when Lestrade was promoted to Detective Inspector. Believe it or not, he recommended my promotion.

Before that point, though, there were all these rumors about why Gregson left. And all of them seemed to point to Lestrade. Not one to trust these rumor mills, I decided to go straight to the horse's mouth, or what have you. Hear it from him. So, I asked him, and he showed me a photograph of his kids. Told me the whole story. Because since then we've gotten a new Super, I'm the only other one at the Yard who knows. I don't think even Anderson knows the whole story. I've never told it, since I promised Lestrade I wouldn't. Though, I think the freak knows it. Makes sense since I first heard his name around the time this was all happening.

Anyways, that's why as soon as I heard Gregson was coming back I wanted to make sure Lestrade knew ahead of time. So he could be ready. Though, I don't know just how ready one can be for a storm of that magnitude.

I glance over at the clock in my sitting room and see that it's about 7:15. There's a knock at the door. I look through the peephole, and there he is, all six-foot whatever of him, dark rat's nest of hair and sickly pale skin. I open the door.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Brought Beth over," he says, looking at the girl. She's a lot taller than I was expecting. Then again, she's almost thirteen, so I suppose it makes sense. Comes up to about my shoulder.

"Heya," she says looking up at me.

"Hi. Come on in, Beth. Thanks, Holmes," I say. I've started calling him by name aloud to appease John. It really started after John came back alone after the whole Richie... Riker...Knickerbocker Falls-or-whatever-they're-called situation. The fury in John's eyes when I asked where he was... I shake my head slightly to get myself back in order. Freak's still standing at my door, while Beth's come inside. "I'll keep you updated. Bye." I then shut the door in his face.

"You don't like him very much, do you?" Beth asks.

"Nope. Not really," I reply. "Well, make yourself at home. The guest room's just upstairs. It's the one with the pink and green wallpaper. Mine's the one with the blue and yellow. Right across the hall. You need anything, knock or yell, okay?"

The Viewpoint of Mr Sherlock Holmes

Well, that was abrupt. At least I got Beth here safely. I get back in the cab and ask him to take me back to Baker Street. As we start down the road, I think about what Sally said. She called me Holmes again. Not "freak" like she used to. I'm surprised. There's still the tone of resentment, but at least she's being more formal about it. I wonder what brought on that change? She must have been thinking about it. Probably why she shook her head a bit the way she did. Whatever memory she was drawing from, it had quite the impact on her. Perhaps it was something Lestrade or John said? I decide to ask John once I get back home.

The cab stops at 221b, I pay the cabbie and step out. When I do, I see someone standing at my door.

"Lestrade?" I ask. He turns around.

"Hey, Sherlock," he says. "How's Beth?"

"Fine. I dropped her off with Donovan a few minutes ago," I state. Lestrade nods. "You can come in if you want to. Door's unlocked," I tell him, opening the door.

"Oh. Right. Thanks."

I sit in my armchair, John's sitting at the desk typing away, probably working on another blog post, and Lestrade sits in John's usual chair with a cup of tea from a brew John started before I left with Beth. He seems a bit shaken. Upset.

"What's wrong?" I gently ask. Lestrade looks up at me, his eyes a bit watery.

"Just... remembering that day," he answers quietly.

"Ah," I say, knowing exactly what he means. The day of the divorce hearing, as well as the custody hearing. I look over and John seems puzzled. "Right, you don't know the story, do you, John?" John shakes his head.

"You didn't tell him?" Lestrade asks.

"No, because you had me promise not to tell anyone at all," I remind him. Lestrade sighs, sets his tea down on the end table and sits up a bit.

"You... don't have to tell me if you don't want to," John intones. But Lestrade shakes his head.

"Nope. Best to let you into the loop. Well, John... It was eight years ago. Back then I was still Sergeant Lestrade, not Detective Inspector. I was asked to work with a DI on a case by the Superintendent - not the one we have now, a different one. The one I'm talking about retired roughly... seven years ago, I think. Anyway, that DI I was going to work with was Tobias Gregson, Toby for short-"

"The man who tried taking Beth earlier today," I clarify. "Sorry for interrupting."

"That's alright. So, yeah, him. Seemed like a nice guy. The Super introduced us, then immediately set us on our first, and so far only, case together."

The Viewpoint of Sgt Greg Lestrade

"...You'll be starting with this," the Super tells us, handing Toby the case file. He starts flipping through it, makes a few faces, closes it and thanks the Super who then heads back to his office.

"What've we got?" I ask Toby.

"A couple reports of people saying that they've had statuettes stolen from their home and found in pieces outside. One of them spotted a man rummaging through the remains, and then bolting off," he says. Well that's odd, and I say so. Toby chuckles a bit. "Yeah, I do get some of the weird ones. The statuettes were reportedly from the same maker, as well as from the same mould. They're scale models of the statue of Venus."

"What, this guy hate Greek goddesses or something?" I remark. Toby shrugs.

"I dunno what his deal is. Either way, we best keep an eye on this. We'll set to interviewing these two and start with that."

We're about to head out to do so when one of the other officers runs up to us. A woman. Fairly new. I think it's Davenport or something. The one who drops her consonants.

"Jus' go' a repor'. There's ben a murder, an' i' looks like a small statue was th' weapon," she reports. A statue... could be connected to our case. I tell Toby so, and he agrees. So, we head off with the officer, who I read the name tag of and see that her name's Donovan. Right. I'll try to remember that.

"Why'd you come running to us, Donovan?" I ask on the way to the crime scene.

"Well, I overhear' you an' th' Super talkin'. Couldn' 'elp it. Sorry," she apologises. I give her a breif smile to let her know it's alright. Sharp girl. I'll try to remember that, too. When we get to the scene, a small group of PCSOs are trying to keep the public out.

"Good grief. This is a crime scene, not a spectacle," Toby bemoans. "Detective Inspector Gregson. This is Sergeant Lestrade and Constable Donovan." He flashes his badge to let us through the tape.

Once inside, the first, and easiest thing to spot, is the body. A man, probably in his 30s or 40s, head smashed in. Also, a few feet away, are the remains of a porcelain statuette. From the head which is still partly intact, we can figure that it's another of the Venuses. Not sure why it's all the way over there, though. Could've been dropped in a hurry, after the thief realised he'd killed the guy. A crime tech is taking pictures. I've seen him around before, he's been here for a few years. Never did get acquainted with him.

"The victim's been dead at least three hours, when it was still dark," he says, his voice a bit nasaly. Sounds kinda stuck-up if you ask me, but that could just be his voice. "To be specific, time of death estimated at 5:15 this morning, give or take fifteen."

"Thanks, Anderson. Lestrade, what do you make of it?" Gregson asks me. I'm a bit surprised he would, since I'm not the detective here. Still, I make sure my gloves are on tight and start examining. Rifling through pockets and such.

"Well, found his pocketbook. It's full. ID says his name is Pietro Venucci. 37," I read. I hand the pocketbook to Anderson who then puts it in an evidence baggie. As I start looking for a breast pocket, I find my hands running over something... crusty's the only way to describe it. I then unbutton the man's shirt.

He was stabbed.