Detective Inspector Lestrade had just asked Sherlock to help him investigate the murder of a prostitute. Now, my friend had dismissed it at first believing it to be a simple murder because she wouldn't take only £300. But Lestrade had informed him that the girl died because of poison and not accidental strangulation and that there had been several cases exactly like it. At this, Sherlock perked up in excitement.

"Poison! Serial Killer! Ah Ha! They're always the best!" He exclaimed as the inspector left the room. Sherlock bounded around excitedly, pulling on his jacket, and then forgetting his scarf. Pulling on his scarf but forgetting his coat. I couldn't help to repress a snigger. He barely noticed. "Come, John!" He said happily. "We're going out,"

I sighed. "Where?"

"Oh, but I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise," Sherlock replied.

"If we're going to the mortuary, I'd like to know so I dress respectively," I replied.

"You would dress respectively for a dead hooker?" He asked, frowning slightly.

I rolled my eyes. "I suppose not."

Sherlock's frown deepened. "Mortuary? Why didn't I think of that? Nah, it's far more productive going on to the streets,"

"So…" I pulled on my jacket. "Where are we going?"

Sherlock grinned. "There is a strip club behind the alley where she was found. I'm sure I can get something from there,"

"Strip club?" I asked.

"Yes, do you…" Sherlock looked at me. "Have a problem with that?"

I shook my head. "I thought women didn't interest you,"

"They don't," He replied. "But they definitely have proved vital to my cases."

"Strip club?" I asked again.

"It doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No," I sighed. "I mean… it's just..." I shifted uncomfortably. "We're not in downtown L.A."

"No, we're in central London," He frowned. "Come on!" He pulled me by the wrist's yanking me down the stairs. "Mrs Hudson!"

"I doubt we need to bother her," I said.

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock shouted, ignoring my comment. "I am expecting a call from someone, please take a message,"

"Alright, Sherlock…" Mrs Hudson called. "But remember I'm not a maid, I'm just a-"

But we were out of the door before she could finish. Sherlock led me down the narrowed streets, taking long strides; I had to jog to keep up with him. He knew exactly where he was going, I however, did not.

"So," I said. "What did the file say that Lestrade handed over?"

"Not much," Sherlock shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't deduce myself. No photo's though. I always do enjoy a photo. Helps picture the scene more clearly. I assume they've moved the body." His face fell slightly. "Ah well, I'm sure Anderson's got some saved on his computer,"

"You break into… Anderson's computer?" I asked.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I steal Lestrade's badge and go after murderers on my own, I break into secure locations and you are surprised that I sometimes get into Anderson's computer and look at his pictures? Mind you some of the content does make me a little uncomfortable,"

"Naked ladies?"

"What else?"

"Naked men?"

"It's Anderson," Sherlock smiled. "I wouldn't be surprised." He then found the street he was looking for. He watched as a few men stepped inside, looking around to see if anyone was watching them. Sherlock made his way to the door and wrapped his knuckles on the wood a few times. The door creaked open and a bulky looking man glared out at us.

"Oh," Sherlock said. "I was rather hoping that it was going to be Philip on the door tonight. Nevertheless,"

The bodyguard gave an almost toothless grin. "Ah, Mr Holmes, step inside,"

I frowned, as Sherlock led me inside the room. Heavy dance music filled my ears. "You're known here?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes, I helped the owner win back his rights to own the place after a massive sex scandal," He made his way to a table, a little away from the stage. Clearly this was his table. He sat down, shifting his coat and removing his scarf. He peered around the entire bar, looking for someone in particular. "I wonder if she's working tonight,"

"If not," I said. "It won't be a wasted night,"

"Heya sugar," said a voice. "Fancy a drink?"

I looked up. A slutty looking pirate looked down at me. "Um, yes," I said. "Beer, would be fine,"

"What about you sweetcheeks?"

Sherlock looked around. "What? Um… Yes… Coca Cola will be fine,"

The slutty pirate gave me a look. "It is a bar sweetie."

"I know," Sherlock replied, still staring around the bar. He turned back to her. "New here aren't you?" He asked, it wasn't much of a question.

"He's always like this," I said.

The slutty pirate rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever," She began to move away.

"Wait!" Sherlock called her back. "Is Sabrina working tonight?"

The pirate chewed her gum a little. "Yeah, she's on next,"

Sherlock leaned back on his chair. "Excellent," He said, pressing his fingertips together. The pirate stalked off. A few minutes passed before anything else was said. A heavy tune began to beat out of the stereo. A sexy stripper stalked out of the red curtains wearing very little but sexy purple underwear and dangerous looking stilettos. Sherlock leaned forward, his eyes intense. The girl began to writhe around sexually.

Sherlock remained cold, uncaring and unmoved. But I felt uncomfortable. I wasn't used to this. Being in the presence of women that were so attractive. Sherlock leaned closer, tucking some money and a note into her g-string. He made no show that he was interested in her though.

The girl nodded at him and then did a very sexy pole dance before strutting off the stage. A few minutes passed. The girl came in from one of the side doors tying a dressing gown. She sat opposite us and crossed her legs.

"Alright, Shirley," She said. "Talk to me,"

"You know each other?" I asked.

Sherlock gave us a look. "We… Used to…" He looked away pointedly.

She sniggered. "We used to date. He was so pretentious. Stuck up and arrogant." She leaned forward shaking my hand. "Sabrina."

"Is that you're real name?" I asked.

She laughed. "Nope. And I'm not going to tell you what it is." She said. "Now what is it?"

"Didn't you read my letter?" Sherlock asked, frowning.

"Of course I did!" Sabrina said. "But I can't get much from 'Murdered Hooker'."

"Do you know anything about it?" I asked.

"You his colleague?" She asked. "Wow. I always thought he worked alone,"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Sabrina, focus!"

"Right." Sabrina pulled out an envelope from her bra. "Talk to this guy. He works with helping whore's get into college and such. As far as I know, she was with him last night."

"What's her real name?" I asked. Sherlock gave me another look that suggested that it wasn't really important.

"Real names?" Sabrina asked. "You don't get a lot of real names in this kinda business. It was a weird name I know that much."

"Could this guy be doing it?" I asked.

"No," Sabrina said. "Otherwise lovely Shirley here wouldn't be so interested."

"Shirley a pet name for you?" I asked.

"Would you stop asking questions?" Sherlock asked. I fell silent. Sherlock leaned forward. "Sabrina," He said calmly. "I want you to be on your guard,"

"It would help a lot more if you actually allowed me to have one of your pepper spray cans."

"How many times?" Sherlock asked rhetorically.

Sabrina gave a small smile. She stood up and gave my friend a small kiss on the forehead. He made no movement. She shook my hand and went off back through the side door. Sherlock sighed, thinking.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He picked up his scarf and twisted it around his neck. "We need to go see Molly,"

"The mortuary girl?" I asked

"Yes," He replied.

"Why Shirley?" I asked.

Comments please.