Finally I got this ready for publishing. I have written this mostly before series 2, so Sally Donovan is a bit of ooc, considering the events of The Reichenbach Fall.

Finally DI Dimmock decided to interrogate Sherlock. But as a decent police officer, he wanted also to take care of his wellbeing.

I don´t know, if in this chapter is much to warn about, but there are mentions of some nakedness and really minor amount of violence.

At the police station, Detective Inspector Dimmock had decided that it was high time to meet the suspect. He had finished his coffee and had read the morning post and newspapers. The Daily Mirror had published some great pictures. He looked very presentable, and the article was good. Moriarty sent him a text. He had read the morning papers too:

"Lovely picture. You didn´t look bad either. Front page, not bad. Isn´t it time to ask Sherlock some questions?"

His superior had also asked for the paperwork of Mrs Hudson's case, so he couldn't ignore it any longer. He asked for the suspect to be brought up to the interrogation room. This could become fun, after all. He called his two underlings in.

"It's time to question the suspect. But before that, make sure he doesn't smell."

Sherlock didn't get a breakfast. He hadn´t eaten in so many days, first because of the game with Moriarty and now because they didn´t bring him anything. He would also like to get his hands free from handcuffs, but he was sure that it wouldn't happen. He had finally fallen into a restless sleep for some hours.

Moriarty had arranged for him to be here for a good reason, he had a game to play, so this was just the beginning. The temperature was low enough to make him shiver to his bones, but it could not be fatal, because letting him die here would not be enough for Moriarty. What fun would he get from it?

Suddenly, the lights turned on. He had to close his eyes; bright lights hurt after so many dark hours. The door to his cell was so solid that any revealing footsteps or other voices weren´t possible to hear through it. The key was turned in the lock, as someone opened the door.

"Morning!" Dick greeted Sherlock merrily, as if he had a reason for that. At least he seemed to have been sleeping well and had eaten a good breakfast. Eating and sleeping are overvalued, thought Sherlock stubbornly. What other choices had they left him than an attitude problem? He noticed that they didn´t bring anything with them.

"You look dirty. Shouldn't you clean yourself?" The thinner man smirked. "You should really take better care of yourself, psycho. But don´t worry, we're so good-hearted; we'll help you to a shower to clean yourself."

To a shower?

"It's not necessary."

"That was an order. Prisoners have to be hygienic. And don´t you want to drink?"

What do they mean by this?

"Are you thirsty, then?"

"Yes."

"You can drink in the shower."

"Move! Or do we have to drag you? Detective Inspector Dimmock is waiting to question you. You surely don´t want to disappoint him by looking so unkempt and unclean. "

Without waiting for more answers they lifted him to his feet and tugged him out. Sherlock tried to push back, but it was useless. He really didn´t want to take a shower whilst these two morons watched him. Somehow he was sure that they would. The thought bothered him a lot; he had always been a very private person.

"Why do I have to be in completely darkness?"

"Cells are dark in the night time. Or would you prefer to sleep in full light?"

It's definitely day time then. They are trying to confuse me.

"We are there."

They dragged him to some kind of dressing room, a very bleak one. There wasn´t a door between the dressing room and the shower room. Dick locked the door. The thinner man released Sherlock´s hands from handcuffs, but only for one reason.

"Take your clothes off. Don´t try any tricks, psycho."

"I am not going to undress in front of you. I am not going take any shower. And you have to give me my water in a glass. You cannot let me die of thirst. "

"A little shy, murderer? You weren´t so shy when you killed an old lady. You need help to undress yourself."

He didn´t move. "This is Scotland Yard. You cannot treat me this way."

"By all means, complain. We would like to see to whom you would complain? Detective Inspector Dimmock would be very pleased to hear that we are taking care of your wellbeing. That is why you need a little refreshing shower. You can drink and piss. It saves our time, you see, we have too much work to do with scum like you."

Dimmock had his case? How was it possible?

"I am not scum. I am the only consulting detective in the world. I am Sherlock Holmes! You are so below me. Do you want to know what I know about you? You, Dick, are a wife-beater. You beat your girlfriend regularly. She is cleverer than you are, of a higher education and she has a better salary. I have no idea what she sees in you, unless she is a masochist. You resort to violence in anything which is beyond your control. And you," Sherlock hissed to the other man, he just couldn´t stop himself anymore, "You are just a dog waiting for its opportunity. Pleasing your partner, waving your tail eagerly and waiting your turn to stab him in the back."

Dick's face reddened in fury. "Is that so, consulting detective? You know what I'm seeing? You're going to get on your knees. D´you understand? You will do exactly as we tell you to do. We are here for your safety. If you claim something else to anyone here, d´you think they'll listen to you? Because everybody knows that you are a lying psychopath and the killer of a sweet old lady. Everyone hates you. You don't deserve this, but we are human enough to let you shower to satisfy your pitiful needs. You do fucking exactly what I order you to do, Mr Sherlock Holmes!"

"I'm not doing it."

"Then we will help you." The thinner man assured.

Without any other words they moved towards Sherlock to undress him by force. Sherlock fought back, he punched the thinner man in the chest, kicked his groin. The man yelped and shielded his groin, when Sherlock turned to Dick, but he wasn't fast enough. Dick grabbed him by his shoulders and slammed his head into Sherlock's. He lost his balance from the power of the headbutt and dropped to the floor. Dick gripped his wrists and kept him down on the floor, ordering his still aching mate to strip Sherlock.

The thinner man overcame his hurt. He opened Sherlock´s belt, unzipped his trousers and pulled them from his legs. He took off his pants and then with Dick´s help he unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt.

Finally he was naked.

"He has no reason to be shy," Dick smirked.

"No. I just thought the same thing." The thinner man petted his cheek, scraping a bruise with his finger nail. It was still sore.

No. They should not cross the line. Don´t look me like that. Sherlock felt their open staring like a threat. The man continued to pet him by lowering his hand on his skin. He squeezed his nipple with his fingertips.

"What if he wants to have some fun? Would it be his first time? It's hard to believe, considering how pretty he is. " The man smirked as if this were a joke. He moved his hand onwards, slipped it down onto Sherlock´s chest, down to his pubic hair, touching his manhood. Sherlock had been frozen under the touch, but this last invasion broke the spell. He let out a sharp scream. They were both too close.

Don´t touch me. Don´t even think about it.

"I´ll give you my hand. I can help you, sexy." The thinner dragged him closer, purred to him.

"Take your dirty hands off me!" He cried out loud.

The nameless man laughed and continued fingering him, touching his testicles and penis. Sherlock tried to swallow his growing panic.

"Pity. We are in a hurry and have strict instructions to get you ready on time. But who knows? Maybe later we can find time to have fun." The thinner man smirked.

Dick forced Sherlock to his feet and pushed him suddenly towards the shower room.

"Yes, it's time to clean you. But we're not far away, don´t be afraid." Dick assured him.

Finally, they had escorted him to the interrogation room. Dimmock was already waiting for them. He ordered his two underlings to stay in watch, and then turned his attention towards Sherlock.

"Good morning. Have you slept well?"

"Like an innocent child," Sherlock answered, staring into Dimmock's eyes. This man was miles below him. He wouldn´t let him put him down.

Dimmock smirked at the word "innocent".

"It's delightful to hear that you are satisfied with your living quarters. "

"Except…"

"Except?"

"Handcuffs, for example... they should really be removed for a while."

"In your case, they prevent you harming yourself or others around you. You have a high probability of self-harm."

"I am not going to harm anybody. This is nonsense. My cell is icy and has no lights."

"At night. I assure you, your cell is as warm as all the others."

"I doubt that. Unless all the others are refrigerators, too. Or… there are no prisoners in other cells. Your gorillas have beaten me."

"Surely not. We are very strict about the use of physical force against our…clients. Unless you have given them a reason and the guards have had to defend themselves. They have a right to defend themselves against attack."

This was useless. He twisted every word he said to him. He didn´t bother to mention Dimmock´s men's violation of his privacy or their rude comments about his appearance and morals during the "morning shower".

"I demand to see DI Lestrade. And I want a lawyer. And I have a right to make a phone call."

"DI Lestrade is on sick leave. He got a bad headache from you. We don´t have any free lawyers available now. Our phones happen to be out of order. Are you trying to accuse meof something? You are wasting your time. I can prove that there hasn´t been anything unusual or out of line in your treatment here. No one will listen your whining, Sherlock. It's my turn to get some explanations about last night." Dimmock continued. "Would you to tell me about it, in your own words?"

"You haven´t started recording." Sherlock noticed.

"Haven't I? I am so sorry for forgetting. But the interrogation has started just now", Dimmock said. "Tell me how it went with Mrs Hudson."

"I didn't do anything to her. I didn´t even see her that evening. It was a setup by the criminal mastermind James Moriarty. We had just arrived home before the police rushed in. We had just escaped from a trap. Moriarty had lured us to the swimming pool, threatened to kill us, and he had kidnapped John Watson and dressed him in a vest of explosives. The explosives were fake anyway, because Moriarty just wanted me to shoot, so the police could find evidence on my hands from shooting. I wonder why you are not interested in that at all, although it would be useless to go to the swimming pool to try and find evidence. You wouldn´t find any, Moriarty will have cleaned the place, that is certain. Moriarty also threatened Mrs Hudson, so as soon as he vanished, we went straight to 221b Baker Street to find out if she was alright… and then…. then we found her… dead."

Sherlock seemed reluctant to say it, calling mrs Hudson as a dead, but Dimmock took this almost as a confession.

"You don´t seem to be so sure, after all, about your statement?"

"I didn´t mean that. I just couldn´t comprehend her lying there dead." Sherlock said angrily, when he noticed, how Dimmock interpreted his hesitation.

"You're just acting upset. You're bluffing. Lying doesn't bother you."

"No! I'm not acting. It bothers me, if my landlady was killed because of me, or that my friend has been kidnapped, because of Moriarty´s game. How can you say these things don´t bother me? I am not a monster!"

"We'll decide that. Or to be more specific, the court will decide. We don´t need your confession, really. The evidence against you is strong enough to convict you. The gunpowder on your hand, a smoking gun in your pocket, the victim was shot in your living room, a witness heard you argue with Mrs Hudson before the shooting and the shot itself… It doesn't matter what you say to us. You can pretend. It's not a big deal for a man like you."

Dimmock felt so sure. This is going to work. Just like that, Sherlock was under lock and key like Moriarty had wanted.

"For a man like me?" Sherlock repeated. "What kind of man do you think that I am – then?"

"I will ask the questions, but I'll answer you to show my good will. You have a certain reputation as a sociopath, or as a psychopath. It's a doctor's task to find out which one, as if there's a difference. But both of them are highly capable liars; manipulate people to get what they want, act without caring about the consequences and are short-tempered and violence. I could go on. All this sounds familiar, doesn´t it, Sherlock? Like looking in a mirror. I am not waiting for any confession from you, because you are not going to give me one, and your testimony is worthless. You have no conscience to tell you that you have done a horrific deed. So we need an expert."

Sherlock gasped.

"That's what you're planning. You're trying to prove I'm a psychopath. You are trying to lock me in a hell hole. That's what this is all about, why you're ´taking care of me´. I won´t let you succeed. But why? Why do have you gone to so much effort to prove me… Oh. Of course, it's not your idea. You're just a pawn. Lestrade has been removed from the case, and my case has been given to you. You agreed, because you considered this a big chance for you. Lestrade would have investigated this thoroughly, would have listened me, and would have finally noticed that I was framed." Sherlock leaned forward over the table, almost whispering. "How has it been with your career? You haven't gotten on very well, I see, although I gave the Black Lotus case as a gift. Have you already forgotten? I solved the Black Lotus case for you, and now you're not paying me back very well, I can tell you."

Dimmock had nothing to say. It was all true, but he didn´t need to be mocked by this arrogant sod. Sherlock had figured out their plan so easily. It was all too easy for him- although, it really didn´t matter. Whatever he deduced, it wouldn't help him. He could not say anything that would help him out of there.

"You have paused the recording again. You shouldn´t do that in the middle of questioning of a suspect."

"Have I? There must be a malfunction in the player. In fact, you just got mad, and broke the machine. Because of this:"

Dimmock showed the morning newspaper to Sherlock. There was an article about Mrs Hudson's murder. There were three clear pictures: Mrs Hudson still alive, DI Dimmock´s smirking face and the only consulting detective in the world, now hailed as a cold-blooded murderer. Sherlock stared at the pictures, as if not believing they were real.

This was not happening to him. He was in the newspapers. After all these years solving all these crimes without getting one single mention, he was now being accused of being the murderer of a sweet old lady in the morning paper.

"Lestrade wouldn´t ever accept this. He promised to keep it out of the press."

"There is little Lestrade knows or can do about your case, Sherlock. Your case is mine."

"You are going to get a rocketing rise for your career, you slimy eel."

"Are you calling me names? Are you going to become violent?" Dimmock smiled. "It's a pity that you smashed the record player."

"The machine is working fine. "

Dimmock gave a signal for his guards. Dick took the machine and threw it against the wall. It broke into pieces.

"No, it doesn´t. You just smashed it. The guards have witnessed how after you saw the article, you lost your control and threw the machine at the wall. Then we were forced to calm you down and brought you back to your cell. You are short-tempered and belligerent. We will add this to the report about my estimation of your situation, which a psychiatrist and the court get from me. I don´t think that it would be a problem to get the verdict, considering your state of mind. Guards, calm him."

Dick moved quickly, considering how big a man he was. Sherlock didn´t have time to react before the attacker lifted him up from his chair and threw him violently towards the wall. His head slammed against the wall and he slumped to the floor. Sherlock´s head was dizzy from the hit but he tried to rise, until the thinner man started aimed a couple of kicks to his ribcage, which made him slump back to the floor. He heard Dimmock´s voice saying:

"That's enough, help him back to his cell. Our conversation is over."

When he was dragged from the room, Sally Donovan happened to be outside. It

might have been a coincidence, it might not, but there she was- facing two unknown men who kept Sherlock tight in their grip, and she noticed the bruises on his face. Sherlock turned his face away from her; he didn't need her to taunt him when he had been treated like this. But Sally didn´t want to taunt him.

"Hello, men, I haven´t seen you before," she started, "I am Sergeant Sally Donovan."

"We've just transferred here. We help DI Dimmock."

"More transfers? Don´t we have enough staff here already? Hey, freak, have you been in a fight?" She spoke to Sherlock, but stared at his escorts.

"That's not your business." Sherlock answered, looking away, trying to stay balanced. The hit to his head had awoken a headache. He felt sick. "I hit only the door."

"You even made doors mad, freak."

"You should know that."

"He got mad and became violent. We had to stop him." The thinner man explained helpfully.

"Really? Did he?" Sally raised her eyebrows, wondering about the bruises and the wound on his face. He seemed to have difficulty even staying on his feet.

"Yeah. He smashed the recording machine."

"Enough. We have to go now." Dick interrupted impatiently.

More news for Lestrade, Sally thought, when the men disappeared.

DI Dimmock prepared the final documents about Sherlock Holmes´ interrogation for the judge, who would advocate a psychiatric evaluation of Sherlock before his trial. There was no doubt in his mind that they would not get permission. A statement from a psychiatrist- who worked for Moriarty- and an old psychiatric statement in his teenage years would be enough to send him inside for the rest of his life. Dimmock read the old diagnosis from Sherlock´s youth: a high-functioning sociopath. Wrongly or rightly evaluated, it was a nice testimony for the judge.

Dimmock prepared the paperwork for the rest of the afternoon, until finally they were ready to send forward. Although the death had not been a planned murder, considering the suspect´s mental state and history, he was justified in calling it a murder, so seriously dangerous the suspect was. He underlined that the suspect was suspicious, making the accusation that he had been treated wrongly, when they had just taken care of his wellbeing. He was short-tempered, violent and a compulsive liar. He denied frantically that he was guilty of any crime; instead he had made up his own story of what had happened, and fervently denied any evidence to the contrary. He and his flatmate John Watson continued talking about a taxi which had driven them to their home, but he didn´t believe that the taxi driver existed either. Anyway, the evidence against the suspect was so strong that his confession wasn't necessary. He had a history of a drug addict and had an unstable personality.

Because he couldn´t control his anger, he'd smashed the record machine and tried to attack Dimmock, and the policemen were forced to calm him. It might be that because he had fought so furiously back, he'd gotten some minor bruises himself. They had to make sure that he was not able to harm others or himself in the future. Now DI Dimmock was satisfied. This would explain Sherlock´s injuries, and his ranting wouldn´t get too much attention.

His report was ready to send forward.