I know I should be working on my other more popular stories. But whatever. I felt like working on this one.

Tension buzzed between John Kennex's ears as the foreign passenger in the back seat tapped his fingers. Questions he dare not ask and the implications of any possible answers tore at his sanity.

taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap...

But what threatened it most was that god. damn. tapping.

Taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap...

He ground his teeth so hard, he could already hear his dentist's scolding.

He tried shooting angry glances at his android partner, but he was too busy staring innocently out the window. Pretending not to ignore Kennex's displeasure.

Taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap...

Any chance he got, he stared at his passengers in the review mirrors. Specifically, the one in the ridiculous coat with the ridiculous hair and the ridiculous cheekbones. He looked suspicious from the second he walked out of the teleport cylinder. His movements were just a little too precise. His speech pattern almost mechanically proper. And does he really think he could fool anyone with that face?

Taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap

This 'Sherlock Holmes' is an android. Has to be. Right?

Taptaptaptap...

"Do you mind?" Kennex growled, trying to resist the urge to pull over and put him in handcuffs.

The... uh... man in question gave a textbook example of a theatrically exasperated sigh. But he stopped.

The officer shot another glance Dorian's way. This time, he actually met his gaze and ever so slightly shook his head. Kennex rolled his eyes. What does that even mean? No, he's not an synth? No, he's not human? No, don't ask? No, don't tell him to stop tapping his finger's or he'll blow up the car? No, I'd really rather you'd stop shooting me angry glances and keep your eyes on the road?

No is actually a really ambiguous word sometimes.

"Oh, for god's sake." Sherlock sighs from the back seat.

"Sherlo-" John tried gently warning him.

"Shut up, John. I can't take the near palpable doubt any longer. I've had enough of it from the customs officer at the telair station." Sherlock snapped, eyes flashing a fierce green. He stared down Kennex through the rearview mirror. "I am not synthetic."

"Yeah. I'm sure you just get a lot of work done." Kennex scoffed.

Dorian hissed as his face distorted into a severe grimace. "Bad idea."

John Watson sighed and braced himself against the storm sure to come.

Sherlock leaned far forward. "I was made from the cryogenically frozen corpse of a man named William Scott. His brain was re-wired to be programmable, a basic artificial intelligence was installed and from that I grew my own entirely independent conciousness. My skin to my inner ear bones is all completely organic. In that sense, I am actually less synthetic than you are."

Kennex nearly veers off the road at the mention of his prosthetic leg. "Dorian! You-"

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Dorian lunges for the wheel, preventing them from driving through a tree.

"Sherlock, what have I told you about pissing off the driver!?" John scolds as he half prepares to swing open the door and jump, tuck and roll.

"I assume the same thing you told me about not pissing off judges, the elderly, children, people with guns, people with machetes, drug lords... You have to admit, you can be quite repetitive about such matters." Sherlock said conversationally, managing to retain balance as Kennex regained control of the car.

"Maybe I wouldn't need to keep repeating myself if you'd just listen." John hissed between gasps of relief as the car straightened out in it's lane.

"I always listen to you." Sherlock replied softly, his facial features softening just enough to twang at John's heartstrings. "I can hardly help it if most of what you say is irrelevant drivel and ends up deleted."

"Dorian..." Kennex hissed, gripping the wheel as if it were his partner's neck. "Who is this guy, what exactly have you told him about me and why the hell didn't you tell me he's a fucking android?"

"He didn't tell me anything. Your left shoe is more scuffed than-"

"I can't believe you'd think I'd disrespect you like that, man!" Dorian huffed, completely ignoring Sherlock continuing on behind him.

"-the right, suggesting you haven't entirely adapted to having a false appendage." Sherlock continued, apparently not realizing Dorian was talking over him. "And I resent being thought of as an inferior when I am in fact the most intelligent being in this car, birthed or oth-OW!" Sherlock leaned over to rub at his newly bruised shin.

"You're being insufferable." John groaned as his partner in crime-solving shot him his best pouty glare.

"You kicked me." Sherlock's pouty glare turned more pout than glare.

"Oh stop being a baby." John rolled his eyes.

"Well, I am only five."

"I've watched you treat knife wounds like papercuts."

"But you kicked me."

Fed up with everything to do with the bickering couple in the back seat, Kennex pulled the car into a u-turn. "That's it."

"John, what are you doing?" Dorian asked his partner.

"Going back to the station." Kennex told him matter-of-factly.

"Dude. I know he's a little..." There was a pause while Dorian tried to find an adjective. Then he realized there had yet to be a word invented to fit that space. So he moved on. "But he's the-"

"Look, I don't care if these guys are James Bond and the queen. They're going back to England."

Sherlock, disliking the recent turn of events, unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the driver's seat. "I can tell you don't like me. It's really just common sense, especially for one as distrustful as yourself and an insensitive bastard such as myself. But, as there are lives and a fantastically intricate case at stake, I will give you a choice.

"1) You turn around right now. Take us to the police station. Do your silly legality procedures. Let us in on the case. I'll babystep you through solving it and you can take all the credit.

"2) You go on and take us to the telair station, drop us off and we'll turn around and stalk you. We'll break into your crime scenes, steal your evidence, solve the case in an entirely illegal fashion, and make the police look like utter fools in the process. On top of that, it's very possible that working against the law will take extra time in which the killer can viciously torture and kill any of the thousands of innocent lives you're meant to protect." Satisfied that he's made his point, Sherlock leaned back in his seat and smirked quietly to himself.

With only a resigned sigh, Kennex turned the car around.

"Made your decision?"

"Shut up."