Chapter Text
"Lestrade is such an idiot...... IT'S ONLY A 3! not worth my time, now my toe experiment is useless." Sherlock fumed to himself and to any passer bys.
He was heading to Barts, hoping Molly would provide fresh toes to restart his experiment. He was testing to see if toes decompose faster then let's say fingers and if the smell of the toes have a different affect on the wildlife where the body is found. It could solve hundreds of murders but it just seemed like a disgusting hobby to Ms. Hudson.
She had been nagging at him non stop to find a flatmate. He hated the idea but did try a few candidates, it did not end well since most of them either ran out the flat calling Sherlock a Psychopath or crying from his hurtful deductions. The only one that lasted the longest was Victor Trevor, Sherlock enjoyed his company until the day Victor decided to take Mycroft's proposition and spy on him for money.
Than the man had the nerve to lie to him about it ,after Sherlock confronted him. Sherlock gave him a day to move out. Taking money wasn't the reason why Sherlock kicked him out, i mean they could have just split the money and continue the charade.
But Victor insulted his intelligence by trying to lie to him, the moron. Sherlock rather he lived alone, he was a high functioning Sociopath he doesn't need anyone. Normal people would have been lonely inside the big flat and hurt after some of the comments people throw at him, but he was Sherlock Holmes he didn't care.
Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock He remembered when his brother gave him that piece of advice. Sherlock hated to admit it but his brother was right, all the other goldfish can be swayed into anything if they care for the other person. Molly Hooper is an excellent example of this.
Sherlock shouldn't be allowed access into the morgue and should defiantly not allowed take body parts home with him. But with the right head tilt or looking at her from under his eyelashes she'd let him do anything if it made him happy. Molly was obviously attracted to him, he deduced that the moment Mike Stamford introduced the two.
Sherlock could easily break into the Morgue and do what he wanted anyway but it was less hassle to just ask Molly. Molly was shy and timid and let Sherlock dominate her easily, it was child's play really.
Lestrade would short of be in the same boat as Molly and let Sherlock manipulate him into getting away with taking home evidence. Unlike Molly though Lestrade needed him desperately to solve cases. A job Sherlock was happy to do, he needed some sort of distraction ,drugs used to be the main one but he traded it for murder.
Though Lestrade likes to think every murder would hold some interest to Sherlock, he was wrong. The case today was transparent, so easy in fact Sherlock believed that even Anderson would have figured it out. It was just a robbery gone wrong nothing else. Oh how Sherlock wished it was anything else.
Sherlock stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his beloved blue Balstaff coat. His dark curls being ruffled by the wind. His quick silver eyes darting up and down the road. He was crossing the road, when he saw a car barrelling towards him. He didn't have any time to react.
Something yellow flashed by and knocked him out of the way. he landed hard on his back, a gasp of pain escaped through his lips. Sherlock looked up at the golden Labrador sitting on his chest with dark blue eyes.
Sherlock stared at the dog for a while than roughly pushed it off him. He struggled to his feet and brushed the dirt from his suit and coat.
The dog sat in front of him looking at him as though concerned. Sherlock took one look at the dog than stalked off pulling the coat tighter around him. The dog sat there, watching him turn the corner before it painfully got on it's feet again and trotting after him.
It limped as it walked it's shoulder badly injured. The clanging of dog tags from around it's neck was the only sound the Labrador made.