"Why are we in the tunnels?" Lestrade asked.

"There's drug markets down here."

"And you would definitely know that of all people, wouldn't you, Freak?" Sally asked.

Sherlock didn't say anything, just looked straight forward. "Turn here."

"So... which drug market are we going to? Your favorite? How would you rate it? 7-10 stars?" Sally pressed. Lestrade raised an eyebrow.

"More like 5, actually," Sherlock quipped.

"Really?"

"No... maybe a 4."

"So it's not your favorite?"

"Of course not. Hide your badges. They'll scram if cops come around."

"Oh, yeah, sure," she said with a roll of her eyes, but she hid her badge anyways.

"Just act like you're scared and hiding your drug addiction. That's what most people do."

"Oookay."

"Alright, here we are."

Sally transformed from a self-confident, sassy detective partner to a scared, slightly shaking drug addict trying to hide it's lust for drugs.

Sherlock tried to hide a smile. He never thought he'd see her like that.

Lestrade hung back, and put a hand on his gun. "I'll keep a lookout just in case your cover is blown."

Sherlock nodded.

"Hey, why aren't you acting like a drug addict?" Sally asked from the corner of her mouth.

"They already know me."

"Right."

They approached a wooden shack closed off and rickety. It was old, rusty, and grimy.

"It looks closed, Freak," Sally whispered.

Sherlock looked at her, brought his hand up, and knocked it four times, in a random pattern, on the wood.

There was a pause.

"Who is it?"

"...Shizzle"

This time Sally tried to hide a smile.

The door opened, revealing a man with crooked teeth and beady eyes.

"What are you doing here? I thought you said you'd never come again."

"This time is different. Do you know who would make..." Sherlock pulled the tranquilizer dart out of his pocket and handed it to the man. "...this?"

The man inspected it intently, then looked at Sherlock. "Come in."

Sally's eyes widened. "Um, Shizzle... can I stay out here?"

"What? Why?"

Sally jerked her head towards Lestrade.

Sherlock understood immediately and nodded. Then he went inside.

"Ah, this is a beauty isn't it?" The man said, examining the dart intently.

"A Sleeping Beauty."

"Ah, that brand is new, but this... this is mine."

"What customers have come recently?"

"Just this dark scary dude. I have a picture of him."

"You do background checks before you give out drugs and sedatives?"

"No. Just take pictures. I want years cut from jail-time, if I get caught by the police, and I take pictures so I can give out other names. Here, take a look."

Sherlock couldn't believe his luck. He bent down and studied the man in the black hoodie, his dark skin and buzzcut, the way his eyes looked to the right as if he were scared of something.

According to the hairs on his leg, the man had a German Sheperd about the age of three, a black cat that didn't like him, and a black lab. He owed someone money, needed to fulfill his debt, so he came here to pay it off. He was scared that whoever he was trying to pay off was after him, so he hid under his hood. He was 18, broke his leg when he was three, and was a middle child.

"And you're sure that's him?"

"Yeah, for shizzle." The old man's face brightened. "Ha! See what I did there?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered, "Idiot."

The man's smile faded. "What did you call me?"

"Er... not you. I was talking about this guy... the one in the picture," Sherlock lied, not wanting to blow his cover.

"Oh. Well, get out now. I can't have customers this long. Cops'll get suspicious. Bye!" He shooed Sherlock out, then walked back to his drug den and slammed the door shut.

Sherlock looked at Sally, who'd dumped the crazy, drug addict look. "So?"

Sherlock pulled the picture from his pocket. "Who is this guy?"

Sally took it, her eyebrows knitting together. "He looks familier..."

"Who looks familier?"

"Lestrade, does this look like Norman to you?"

"Norman?"

"No, Ross? Something weird... uh, Chidi?"

"Chidi? No..."

Sally snapped her fingers. "Got it! Dominic."

"Yeah... Fallon? The crack kid?"

"I think so, yeah."

"How did you get from Norman to Dominic?" Sherlock asked.

Sally rolled her eyes, and continued. "We should probably look him up at the station. See where he lives and catch up to him."

"Yeah, that would be the thing to do."

Sherlock pulled out his phone. "...or... we could... just... look it up..."

Sally took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, then slowly released it. She wouldn't get angry at Sherlock and his know it all mind palace. She wouldn't. Not this time.

"Alright, got it." Sherlock called for a cab.

"Where is it, Sherlock?" Sally asked as the cab pulled up.

"Nowhere. Thanks for the help. Goodbye." He stepped into the cab.

"What? Sherlock, you little-" Sally's face darkened with anger, and she ran after the cab when pulled out and drove away.

Lestrade shrugged and shook his head. "Sherlock will be Sherlock."

Sally's face brightened. "Well, at least I can finish my lunch now. Yeah! I'm glad he left! Good riddance!"

But really, she was still mad that he left. At least he brought some adventure with him... everybody seemed good for the last few weeks, and Sally had nothing to do anymore.

Her phone rang. "Hello?"

"It's... Molly."

Sally stopped in her tracks. Something wasn't right. Molly was normally bright and somewhat cheerful, but now... she seemed scared.

"Tell... Sherlock... to... hurry up..." Molly said between sobs.

"What? What's wrong, Molly?"

"Wow, you are... so stupid, Sally." This time it wasn't Molly.

"Moriarty?"

"You know that's right, sweetheart. I got a case for you now... haven't I?"

Sally pressed the end call button, trying to pull on her bravado state, but she was shocked. Him again. That wasn't good.

Not good at all.