John Watson woke up early next morning at Sarah´s home. He couldn´t stay at 221b Baker Street, but besides, he wouldn't want to. How could he? So he phoned Sarah. Sarah sounded sleepy and a little edgy, but when John explained briefly what had happened, she invited John to stay the night – or what was left of it. Sarah gave him the familiar sofa in her living room to sleep on for a couple of hours. She was very sorry; suddenly she wanted to comfort him, to make him feel better, but John just wasn´t in that mood.

"Thank you, Sarah, but not now, maybe it's better to get some sleep."

Sarah agreed, she was tired too. Getting some sleep was easier said than done, but finally he fell into a restless sleep.

John had been asked to be at Scotland Yard at nine o´clock, but it was just half past eight when he stepped over the police station threshold. Silently, he wondered why the police didn´t arrest him too. Maybe they supposed that he hadn´t been personally involved of the death of Mrs. Hudson. Should he feel grateful about that? No, there was no reason for that. He went to the duty officer and told him he had an appointment with Lestrade. He was surprised, therefore, when he was told to go to Detective Inspector Dimmock's office.

John frowned, but obeyed. He knocked on Dimmock's door. He didn´t like him very much and he predicted that after the following conservation he would like him less. Dimmock disliked Sherlock. In fact, Lestrade was the only one at the Scotland Yard who got along with Sherlock Holmes. Without Lestrade Sherlock wouldn´t ever work for Scotland Yard. And this was how they showed their gratitude for all the difficult, no, preposterously absurd cases which Sherlock has solved for them… Without Sherlock Holmes Scotland Yard would be so clueless, with all the innovative criminals on London's streets. John felt his anger rising once more, but he ignored it. For now.

"Sit down. It's good to see you," DI Dimmock smiled to John.

"The feeling isn´t mutual. I came because I had to, it's not like I have a choice," John answered sourly. "Where's Lestrade? I thought I would be with him today. He asked me to come."

"I'll be asking the questions. But because I want to show my good will, and because Lestrade took the suspect under custody, I suppose you have a right to know. The case was given to me because he is a friend of the suspect. He cannot keep his emotions out from this, so I was considered to be more objective. In fact Lestrade took a couple of days leave to relax a little. I am in charge here."

"Really? You don´t like Sherlock Holmes. How is your antipathy objective?" John didn't like this a bit. He wasn't in a cooperative mood, not with Detective Inspector Dimmock. But he had to try, if he wanted to help Sherlock. He wasn't really aiding Sherlock by making the investigating police officer mad. So he bit his tongue to stop himself saying something more insulting.

"Now, I would like to hear your version about the events of last night," Dimmock asked. He smiled again. John Watson didn´t see why. He had no reason to.

But John Watson told him the truth. He told Dimmock everything that had happened. How Moriarty had kidnapped him, how he'd forced him to dress in an explosive device and used him as a trap for Sherlock. He spoke briefly about what had happened at the pool, how Moriarty had implied that Mrs. Hudson would be in danger, the fake explosion and how when Moriarty had finally left, they'd rushed to the Baker Street and found Mrs. Hudson there – dead. Then the police had arrived.

"You can find the taxi we used, I'm telling the truth."

Dimmock smiled again – not very pleasantly. What was he smiling for?

"You know what, Mr Watson? It's a thrilling story. Did you invent it by yourself? I think that Mr. Holmes has helped you a little. He has a very good imagination, otherwise he wouldn´t invent all his colourful theories. I am now going to remind you that I've figured out what really happened last night. But of course you already know what that... "

"Excuse me, but have you already questioned him?"

"He is a psychopath. He can lie so well that we normal people cannot notice the difference. At this moment it is a waste of time. Of course we have to take his statement later, but currently it is completely useless. But I can tell you how all this happened: Your flatmate disturbed the public peace of night by firing a gun, which I'm told he does often, when his boredom started to overwhelm him. Already this habit means he can't walk free. He needs serious treatment. Anyway, his landlady Mrs Hudson woke up (as his neighbour did also, who finally called the police) and asked him to stop. He wasn't in a co-operative mood, an argument followed and culminated in Sherlock finally shooting his landlady in cold-blood. Probably his last cases have been too much for his inner balance. I'm just speculating what happened next, but you probably decided finally to come to see what your flatmate was doing and found out that he'd killed your landlady. Maybe he threatened you, or maybe because you think he's your friend for some reason, but you promised to help him to hide the body or at least confirm his story, which he invented to cover the tracks of his crime. And so you have done. But there is no need for you to stay loyal to him, he cannot threaten you now. But we were in time to find the evidence: gun powder from his fingers, and his gun recently used. So…"

"Of course he has used his gun! I told you that he shot the explosive vest at the pool."

"Or that is how you have decided to explain it. You should really have invented a more believable story."

"One thing, inspector Dimmock," John tried again, "Sherlock cared for Mrs Hudson. He wouldn't ever harm or hurt her. He is not what you think he is."

"Psychopaths cannot care for anybody. "

John Watson stared speechless at Detective Inspector Dimmock. He was genuinely speechless. Dimmock had made his mind up and John Watson couldn't say anything which will change the narrow-minded police officer's view. John couldn't understand how Dimmock had gotten the case instead of Lestrade. John´s instincts told him that there was something rotten here... Someone powerful wanted to give Dimmock a chance. A big chance. Because this would become a scandal as soon as it was revealed in the newspapers. The Scotland Yard´s trusted consulting detective revealed as the cold-blooded murderer of a sweet old lady. He thought suddenly the rage of the public. This was an incredible lie, but how could John prove it? He was nobody here, a passer-by, a witness, whose statements nobody listened. He had no evidence to convince them. He didn't have the brain of Sherlock Holmes. How ironic. He should help the detective, but he needed Sherlock to help him. That was what he couldn´t get. The words of Moriarty echoed inside his head.

"Good job, Moriarty", John mumbled.

"Excuse me?" Dimmock asked.

"Uh, I just wondered, would it be possible for me to see him?"

"I cannot allow it just now. Maybe later," Dimmock smiled snidely.

"I should have known that. How stupid to even ask," John Watson said and left the room, because otherwise he would have hit the smiling Inspector. It was a better option to leave. At least he slammed the door loudly.

As soon as John left the room, Detective Inspector Dimmock's mobile phone rang. He sighed and answered. He knew with whom he was talking before he even looked at his mobile. He didn´t dare to think how the man knew that John Watson had left just thirty seconds before. It was as if he had been in the room, watching.

"Tell me," He heard the male voice ordering in its Irish accent.

"Everything is making progress, as you wished, Mr Moriarty. We have taken care of Sherlock Holmes,we followed your advice exactly… John Watson left recently, furious, as you can imagine, but there isn't much he can do. We can always accuse him of assisting the murder if he begins to be a problem."

"Good. The little ex-army doctor isn´t an issue. His bark is worse than his bite, as they say. But don't make any extra moves without informing me first. I don´t like it if people I own try to overuse their brains. Let our detective think over his situation properly. At least he has time to do it… He isn´t very busy at this moment, is he? Being busy all time – that's the problem nowadays – never time to think about their life situation in detail. But Sherlock has this luxury now. He should be thankful."

"Yes, sir, he should. I am afraid he won´t be. One other thing, sir- Watson claimed that they drove in a taxi that night. What if Lestrade or Watson or someone else found out the cabbie? "

"No reason to be worried. The cabbie is not your problem. No-one will find out anything I don't want them to find. As for you, check all the files of the case carefully and fix them, if necessary. They have to be clean. And… have a nice day!"

Even Moriarty´s voice made Dimmock shiver. He was happy that James Moriarty wasn´t on his track, at least, but he wasn't in a much better position. Although he didn´t get along with Sherlock Holmes, he still wouldn´t frame him- or anyone- if he didn't have to. Dimmock has considered himself always as a decent policeman, who just wanted to build a career on his own achievements. He had admired Lestrade, an old school police officer. But Dimmock's career hadn't progressed as he had wished, despite of all the good predictions. Despite, what Sherlock had told him, long ago, as it seemed at this moment. He forgot the memory at once, he didn´t want to remember it now, when the man in question had been imprisoned, on his orders. Dimmock just wanted a chance, and Moriarty had emerged from nothingness and offered it to him – in exchange for just a favour. Dimmock hadn´t hesitated. The choice wasn´t too difficult. A tenacious voice in the back of his mind reminded Dimmock how the consulting detective had given all credit to Dimmock after solving the case with the Black Lotus. Dimmock deleted the memory again, angrily.

He didn´t understand how Moriarty could have such an influence even inside Scotland Yard– or maybe he did. Moriarty owned someone in a high position, who must have arranged for Dimmock to get Sherlock´s case and Lestrade to go away for a while. Dimmock didn't know how Moriarty managed to move Lestrade away from the case, and he surely didn´t want to know. The less he knew the safer he was. Besides, Moriarty might be a useful alliance. Moriarty was right also about John Watson. The guy didn´t make a big impression to Dimmock. The little ex-army doctor couldn´t harm Moriarty´s plan. Dimmock daydreamed about how Moriarty would reward him for his services he did for him- currently with Sherlock, and in the future with other problems which bothered Moriarty. What if Lestrade´s superiors discovered his acquaintance with a psychopathic killer? It didn't sounded likely, but you never know…

As if it mattered what happened to Sherlock! He was too cocky. He has deserved a little lesson. This feeling of power over someone´s life was new and so refreshingly enjoyable that it frightened him. Dimmock didn´t give a second thought to the fact he was helping to destroy another man´s career and life, or that a old lady has been killed. That he was co-operating with a dangerous criminal.

Dimmock started to work with the files in front of him and write a report. He was usually very punctual with paper work and this was important to check properly. There could not be any flaws, any traces, wherefrom someone could find something dubious. Lestrade would return and would surely want to check these files thoroughly, so he couldn't be too careful. He didn´t want to make Mr Moriarty unhappy.

A ballistics report was ready. The bullet has been traced to Sherlock´s weapon - or was it Dr John Watson´s, the army doctor? It didn't matter. Sherlock´s fingerprints had been found on the same weapon. Traces of gun powder were found on his fingers, so he had shot it recently. The gun's real owner wasn't important. Tests from the blood spots on the carpet of Mr Holmes´ living room would come later, but it was very probable that they belonged to Mrs Hudson. Then there was the mortuary report, written by Dr Hooper from St Bart's. Dimmock has noticed Molly´s unexplainable attraction to Sherlock, but even she couldn´t argue against an autopsy. The cause of death was too obvious. There was no doubts about it. A nice shot from 5,5" straight to her chest, where her heart had beaten warmly. All the evidence was so clearly pointing to Sherlock that he would need a miracle to get free. Molly wasn't a miracle maker. She was harmless. The statements of two witnesses; the neighbour, who had been kept nameless in case of Sherlock taking revenge and who was Moriarty´s trusted man; and John Watson, the suspect´s flat mate. He wasn´t very cooperative and he didn´t confirm the evidence or the other suspect´s story. He could be considered as a possible accessory, so he wasn´t a reliable witness and his statement was not essential because of his close relationship to the suspect. Instead the neighbour´s statement was strong, in light of what was already known about the DNA evidence. A statement fromthe suspect had not yet been taken. He had been too busy, but he would make time. It would be fun. A knock on the door interrupted him.

"Yes?" Sergeant Donovan emerged from the doorstep.

"Sir, there is a reporter asking to get an interview with you for the Hudson case. She wants to ask some questions. Should I say you are busy?"

"No, ask her in. We have to keep the press happy, haven´t we?"

Sally stayed still in the door, as if something was bothering her.

"Is there something else, Sergeant?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade asked us to keep the press away from this case. He didn´t want any publicity for it."

"Sergeant Donovan. I am in charge now. Lestrade isn´t even on duty at the moment. What instructions he gave you last night don't apply any more. You follow my orders now. The public has a full right to know about our successful police work. This is good publicity for us, and we have to take full advantage from it. We are solving a brutal homicide efficiently. The public´s trust towards Scotland Yard will strengthen. We have stopped a possible serial killer in time."

"Yes, sir."

Sally Donovan frowned when she left the room. She informed the journalist her boss was waiting for her. Her boss. No, that didn´t taste right in her mouth. Her boss was Lestrade and definitely not this young sod. Lestrade had given her a clear order to keep journalists away from this case, but Dimmock was giving them an interview. Dimmock was acting like head of their department. It was too early to talk about a serial killer. There was still no evidence supporting this. They hadn't interrogated Sherlock Holmes yet, that much she knew, however much Dimmock talked about a serial killer. There had been a possibility, Sally herself had predicted, that it might happen one day, but the investigation about Mrs Hudson´s case was still open. Now, suddenly, when her prediction was seemingly fulfilled, Sally felt unsure. The bewildered look on his face bothered her. It wasn´t the uncaring look of a psychopathic killer, which she had expected, or a look of a man who has just shot down an elderly woman. He looked like he had just come in and found a surprise body in the middle of his living room, as he said. She wasn´t as satisfied as she thought she would be. Even for her, it was a little difficult to believe that the arrogant self-made detective has murdered his own landlady. Besides, all these strange things had started to take place at the police station. Lestrade would lose all credibility if his favourite consulting detective was revealed as a killer. Sally Donovan hasn´t thought about that before, but now she was worried. What if Detective Inspector Dimmock was trying to get Lestrade´s position? Sally Donovan didn´t like the prospect.