"Seriously? You're giving me the silent treatment right now?" Shawn asked his partner as they drove in the Blueberry the next morning to the police station. Gus didn't reply. "Seriously? You're mad, I get it. But breaking your computer was a complete accident."

"You broke my computer!" Gus yelled angrily and Shawn grinned.

"No," the psychic replied, a giant grin on his face. "But it made you break the silent treatment."

"I'm mad," Gus began. "Because we were meant to go and collect this cheque yesterday so we could pay the cable bill."

"Oh, so you're mad because you missed the final of the Voice," Shawn grinned as they pulled up to the station. Again, Gus didn't reply. "Don't be ashamed Gus; own it!" the psychic declared as Lassiter exited the building, Juliet tailing behind. "Lassie! Jules! How did you know we were coming. Are you psychic too?" he asked sarcastically.

"There's been a murder," the head detective declared as he walked straight by Shawn.

"Who?" Gus enquired.

"The curator down at the museum," Juliet said pausing to greet them.

"The curator?" Gus asked horrified.
"Why? Did you know him?"

"Him?" Shawn questioned then recalled what Myers had said the day before.

"The permanent curator is indisposed."

"Yeah," Lassiter began. "George LaFleur."

"I think we should come along," Shawn stated, rare seriousness in his voice.

"Seriously?" Lassiter said, turning around and tearing of his sunglasses. "You can't just tag along to whatever crime scene you want Spencer."

"No, Lassie, we were there yesterday and the psychic vibes were seriously off," Shawn began. "I didn't think anything of it until now."

Lassie stared for a moment then turned back around.

"Fine, you can come," he said reluctantly.

"Seriously?" Shawn and Gus asked simultaneously, both seriously surprised.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is a seriously nice hotel suite," Shawn declared as he surveyed the murder scene. "And that's a lot of blood," he stated as he noticed the pool of blood on the floor in the middle of the room; a factor which definitely lowered the fanciness of the room.

"He was stabbed six times," Juliet informed.

"Six?" Gus confirmed. "Somebody seriously had it out for this guy."

"There were no signs of forced entry," Juliet declared. "The coroner said he'd been dead for two days."

"This guy was a local, why was he staying a hotel?" Gus queried.

"Not sure," Juliet replied as Shawn continued to survey the room. "The room was paid in advance in cash; it's untraceable."

"I am getting a psychic vibration," Shawn suddenly spurted out, placing his hand to his temple. "I'm picking up on good vibrations. Good, good, good vibrations," he continued theatrically as Gus rolled his eyes. "Only they're not good; they're evil. Evil, murderous, artistic vibrations."

"Cut the crap Spencer!" Lassiter yelled aggressively

"I'm sensing pertinent information will be found at the Gallery where our victim worked," Shawn disclosed quickly. "Specifically the interim curator," he said, this time slowly and with more suspense.

"Let's go check it out," Juliet said excitedly as she made her way to the door.

"This is going to be a seriously easy case," Shawn whispered to Gus as they made their way to the blueberry.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Maggie'll be here in an hour," Sophie declared as she paced around the gallery, carefully enjoying the art they had hanging on the gallery walls. "What's Eliot's ETA?"

"I'll be at the gallery in 10 minutes," Eliot declared over comms as he drove in the rental towards the rest of the team.

"Cool, meet us in Lucille," Hardison instructed.

"Gotcha. And I'm gonna need someone to explain why we called Maggie."

"Miss Myers," a gruff voice came from behind Sophie, who turned around briskly.

"Can I help you?" Sophie asked.

"I sure hope so," the man said as he shifted his jacket to reveal a shiny police badge. A young blonde woman beside him did the same. "Detective Carlton Lassiter, this here is Detective O'Hara.

"Seriously?" Parker exclaimed over comms. "Can't just one job work for us?"

"Detective? Is something wrong?" Sophie asked, slight real and fake worry in her voice.

"Yes, the curator for this gallery was murdered two days ago," Lassiter said, without any hint of remorse or empathy in his voice.

"La Fleur is dead?" Sophie confirmed. "How?"

"Sophie play along," Nate instructed from the van. "Hardison I have a feeling we're going to need some police aliases."

"On it," the hacker exclaimed.

"Can you confirm your whereabouts for two days ago," O'Hara asked, ignoring, due to procedure, Sophie's question.

"Stick to the relative truth Sophie," Nate advised.

"I, uh, I was here mostly," Sophie stated.

"Ma'am we're going to need you to come with us down to the station," Lassiter said, grabbing Sophie's forearm softly.

"Why?"

"We got a tip that you might be involved," Lassiter replied as he began leading her out to their car.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Seriously?" Eliot questioned sitting on the couch in the hotel. "I have to clean up another mess? I just got back from cleaning up from our last con!"

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Nate defended unconvincingly.

"Oh it's as bad as it sounds!" Hardison disagreed. "Or did you forget that Sophie got arrested?"

"Did Nate just say it wasn't as bad as it sounds?" Sophie enquired from the dingy interrogation room.

"I can always go break her out?" Parker offered.

"No, no," Nate began.

"Did he just say no?"

"Just give me the run down," Eliot stated forcefully; he needed them to get to the point.

"So we did the job yesterday," Hardison began. "The art experts that came in, turns out they weren't actually art experts…"

"No? Really?" Sophie asked sarcastically; apparently being in an interrogation room wasn't good for her; sure she could con her way out of any situation when there were people to con. But, presently, there was no one to con; they had left her to 'stew' and Sophie Devereaux, despite the fact that she was British, hated stew.

"...turns out," Hardison said forcefully, trying to draw attention back to his briefing. "They are a one Burton Guster, pharmaceutical salesman, and Shawn Spencer, Psychic detective. Any relation?" he asked Eliot jokingly.

"Psychic?" Parker panicked.

"He's not a real psychic Parker," Eliot reassured.

"Anyway, he's the one that probably brought Sophie's alias to the attention of the police," Hardison finished.

"So what's the plan?" Parker asked. "'Cause I don't wanna go near the psychic."

"He's not psychic Parker," Eliot stated once again.

"But how can you be sure?"

"Because we're related," the hitter informed reluctantly; this exactly what he'd tried to convince himself wasn't going to happen when he heard they had a job in Santa Barbara.

Hardison fist bumped the air. "Damn! I was just guessing but, damn!" Hardison said proudly.

"Cousin?" Nate guessed.

"Yeah," Eliot replied.

"Not a psychic?" Parker confirmed.

"No, just, freakishly good at what he does."

"What does he do?" the hacker enquired.

"Think, Sherlock Holmes," Eliot settled upon; the most accurate description of his cousin's job he could think of.

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" Parker whispered to Hardison, not so quietly.

"I'll explain later mamma," Hardison said back, matching her tone and volume. He then turned to face Eliot, both of his hands on his knees, leaning forward eagerly and excitedly. "So let me get this straight. Your cousin runs a steady con on the cops pretending he's a psychic? And you never told us?"

"Pretty much," Eliot replied.

"Crime must run in the family or something," the hacker grinned as he leaned back comfortably into the couch.

"Does this mean you're going to come get me out now?" Sophie asked impatiently, her feet now sitting up on the table in front of her.

"Eliot?" Nate asked knowing that the man with first hand knowledge of who they were dealing with was likely the best person to decide their next move, as much as Nate hated giving up control.

"I'll go talk to him, see what I can dig out," Eliot decided. "In the mean time get me a federal alias and means to work on this case."

"Why you?" Parker complained. "I like Agent Hagen."

"Because, as much as Shawn is as good as what he does he's a pain in the ass kid hyped up on sugar and caffeine. He's unpredictable, idiotic and easily distracted. But I know him and how to handle him," the hitter explained.

"One federal ID coming up," Hardison stated, turning to his computer, the hitters explanation far beyond good enough.

I sense trouble brewing!

So, last chapters references were White Collar (which I seem to reference a lot) and Monk =)

Thanks for the reviews and follows/favs; more are always appreciated.