A/N: Hey there! In this next chapter, we have our beloved trio driving around the Motor City, Detroit. This is a bit long, but I guess I had a lot of ideas. I hope you enjoy it.

The plane to Detroit landed in the evening and the trio immediately encountered difficulties. The car rental service clerk was hell-bent on giving them a fancy car. Sherlock spent twenty minutes questioning the clerk over and over about why they didn't have any practical, inconspicuous vehicles available. After what had happened when they were in Indiana, he was not going to take a sports car lying down.

"I'm sorry, sir, but right now we just don't have any vehicles under the description you gave. You will have to choose between the Mustang and the Crown Victoria," the clerk said and Sherlock opened his mouth to argue again, but John glared at him.

"Sherlock." The doctor warned. "Molly's got jet lag and I'm quite knackered myself, so if you don't mind, please just shut up and pick a bloody car. They're both black Fords; it shouldn't be that hard." The detective looked over at Molly, who was blinking to try and keep herself awake, but still looked just as peeved with him as John. Sighing, Sherlock turned back to the clerk, his expression becoming cold.

"Give us the Crown Victoria and we'll be on our way."

"Great." the clerk replied with a fake smile. Sherlock could tell she was a bit disappointed that he hadn't picked the Mustang convertible. It completely escaped him as to why Americans were so keen on putting him in flashy, black convertibles. The moment Sherlock had the keys in his hand, he turned on his heel with a dramatic swish of his coat and walked briskly to their new car. Within a few minutes, they were on the freeway with Sherlock at the wheel, John sitting shotgun, and Molly still fighting to stay awake in the back seat.

"So, where exactly are we going?" John asked.

"As compensation for our long wait for the flight, Mycroft has reserved rooms for us at the Marriott in the Renaissance Center. Apparently we'll get a lovely view of the area and secure parking." Sherlock explained. They looked out at the city as it passed by. It was nothing like the beauty of Switzerland. They could see the terrible state this place was in. There were abandoned and burnt out buildings all over. They could see gaping holes in the walls on a few brick buildings they passed, where people had been stealing bricks. There was very little healthy grass to be seen as well and there was trash everywhere. "Though the part of the view you'll probably want to be seeing is the Detroit River and Canada on the other side." Sherlock added and Molly continued to gaze out the car window with a sorrowful expression.

"It's such a shame." she remarked quietly. "I've read about Detroit and I've seen pictures of what it used to look like. It used to be one of the most industrial cities in the world. Now...well, not so much." This put them all in a rather melancholic mood and no one spoke again for a long while. They soon discovered that not all of Detroit was rundown. They passed some very nice neighborhoods and businesses that made the pathologist smile.

As John began to pay less attention to the scenery and more to the other cars on the freeway, he notice something odd about the cars around them.

"Is it me or are the other drivers being particularly careful and courteous around us?" he said. To his utter surprise, Sherlock smirked.

"It's not just you, John. The reason is obvious. We are in a black Crown Victoria. Crown Victoria's are most well known for their use as police cars in the United States. Sometimes, police cars are unmarked. Therefore, we are being treated differently because we might be coppers." the detective rattled off and John raised his eyebrows. He now understood why his best friend had chosen this over a Mustang. A chuckle escaped John and he matched Sherlock's smirk.

By the time they reached the Renaissance Center, Molly had already nodded off and Sherlock had to carry her to her room (he'd wanted to simply wake her up, but John strongly disapproved, saying that Molly needed rest). They passed a cleaning woman on their way to their rooms and she looked at the two men, especially the taller one with a woman slung over his shoulder, probably wondering if they'd drugged Molly and kidnapped her. John gave her an awkward smile that really didn't help matters. When they got to their rooms, Sherlock placed Molly in her bed, pulling the sheet up to her shoulders before pausing to take note of how peaceful the pathologist looked. The second he realized what he was doing, he looked away, disgusted with himself.

"When's the wedding?" John called from the doorway and Sherlock glowered at him.

"Shut up." the detective snapped before going over to his own room in a huff, leaving John to smirk after him.

"So, who's the poor sod who's dead this time?" John asked over breakfast the next morning.

"A man named Dr. Andre Chambers was found dead by a pair of teenagers in his car at a vacant car park not long ago. He had been working at the Michigan Science Center from the end of Project H.O.U.N.D. up until his death. Any further information we'll have to get ourselves, since the local police haven't gotten around to so much as filing a report and the CIA seems to be leaving the majority of the investigative matters here to us. It's probably for the best. They'd just muck up the evidence if they were more involved." Sherlock explained before taking a sip of coffee. He made a face at the poor quality of the drink.

"Where do we start?" Molly interjected.

"His car and the crime scene, of course. That'll be able to tell us quite a bit about the killer."

"And after that?"

"If we don't get any leads from the crime scene, we'll use your door-opening name to get us in to see Dr. Chambers' body. Then we'll have a look around his house and possibly his work place if need be. You know how this all goes."

"Right..."

"As soon as you've finished eating, we're off. Do hurry up." Sherlock finalized before draining his cup of coffee and slipping into his mind palace. A half an hour later, John had to resort to hitting his friend upside the head to awaken him from his meditative state. In the car, Sherlock let Molly drive this time as he sat shotgun and frowned while he gingerly felt the bump slowly rising beneath his dark curls.

"John, you didn't have to hit him that hard." Molly scolded, looking in the rearview mirror at the blond in the back seat.

"I was just trying to knock some sense into him." John replied with a mischievous grin.

"What?" The pathologist was confused. What was he on about?

"He knows what I mean." The doctor chuckled. This earned him a deep scowl from his best friend.

"Tell John that his efforts are not appreciated." Sherlock grumbled.

"I'm right here, you idiot."

"I think that's Sherlock's way of saying 'I'm only talking to Molly now because a certain blond doctor tried to concuss me.'" This comment seemed to greatly please the detective as he smirked and looked at Molly with a sparkle of appreciation in his eyes.

"It's good to know that someone else in this vehicle is intelligent," Sherlock said cantankerously. Molly blushed at these words and John scoffed.

"My god, Sherlock, you are the biggest man-child I have ever met." he complained, though secretly he was quite satisfied with the way this had all turned out. He'd effectively caused his best friend to be further endeared to Molly. He couldn't wait to see Sherlock's face when the man realized he was doing exactly what he wanted him to.

The crime scene was taped off, but there weren't any cops around. Sherlock sighed and approached the silver car in the middle of the abandon parking lot. He opened the driver's door and scanned the scene within. The blood spattered on the windshield, window, and driver's seat quickly caught the consulting detective's attention.

"Clearly Dr. Chambers was shot by someone sitting in the back seat. He was unaware of this person's presence in his car until moments before his death. The killer grabbed his victim by the collar before shooting him. Whoever this killer is, he's not afraid to get hurt." Sherlock deduced before shutting the car door and walking back to their own vehicle.

"Okay, would you mind explaining how you know that?" John replied, hurrying after Sherlock with Molly close behind.

"The splash pattern of the blood could only have been made if Andre Chambers was pulled against his seat and shot from the back. The skid marks on the ground indicate that the attack was a surprise. What kind of person would shoot the driver of a moving car? Someone who is unconcerned for his own safety," Sherlock explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was answering John, but only looked at Molly when he spoke. It seemed he was determined to maintain the 'not talking to John' charade for as long as possible.

"What do we do now?" Molly asked as she put the key in the ignition of the Crown Victoria.

"We are going to pay a little visit to Dr. Chambers' home." With that, they were off again.

Andre Chambers happened to have lived in one of the much nicer neighborhoods in Detroit, a gated community where all of the properties were large and old (well, old by American standards, anyway). No one seemed to bat an eye when a shiny black car pulled up to one of the enormous brick houses or when three strangers got out of it to approach the house. Sherlock picked the lock on the door and strode in, leaving it to his now very nervous companions to follow.

"Sherlock! What if someone is home?" Molly said urgently.

"No one is home. His wife is at work right now," he assured her, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. The house was spacious and tidy. The only room with any amount of disarray in it was Dr. Chambers' study. It looked as if it had been ransacked. Papers, books, and other objects were strewn throughout room. "It seems that the killer was looking for something...again."

"Just like what we saw in Switzerland. What's he looking for?" John mused, kneeling down to look at some of the papers.

"Obviously there is some information on Project H.O.U.N.D. that he is rather desperate to obtain. Dr. Bochatay mentioned Chambers briefly in one of her journals. She said he was responsible for 'developing and keeping track of the formulae'. We could infer from that that Chambers was one of the people who was sitting down and working out the chemistry on paper. He probably had the formula for the drug written down somewhere in his notes."

"In the wrong hands, that information could be very dangerous. You don't think Dr. Chambers kept any of that stuff, do you?" Molly sounded quite worried as she gazed around at the mess of a study. Sherlock didn't answer her for a few moments because his attention was being held by one of the books on the floor. It was lying open and when the detective bent down to look at it more closely, he could see clearly the outline of an impression in the pages. "There were folded papers being hidden in this book. The murderer found them and took them. Clearly Andre Chambers did keep something that he shouldn't have, though I don't think it's a chemical formula. I think it's something incriminating, something weighing on his conscience from what they did in Liberty all those years ago."

"How do you know that?" Molly inquired with a frown.

"Come now, Dr. Hooper. Surely it's obvious. A man who devotes the rest of his life to working in a museum and donates to charity is a man with a guilty conscience," Sherlock and Molly appeared to have and epiphany.

"Oh! I see! He was so adverse to something that happened at Project H.O.U.N.D. and that he spent the rest of his life trying to make up for it!" the pathologist exclaimed. Sherlock beamed at her.

"Precisely! And he wrote down what he saw because he was planning to tell someone, but became unsure about whether or not he was going to go through with it, so he hid his account away."

John Watson watched his two friends grow increasingly excited over their discovery and was struck with the sudden urge to lock them in a room together and tell them he wouldn't let them out until they'd thoroughly and properly shagged. The thought brought a smirk to the doctor's face that fortunately was not questioned by the other two.

"So, our next course of action is...?" he interrupted.

"Molly and I will speak to the wife and persuade her to give us permission to see the body. We'll drop you off at the Michigan Science Center to go have a talk with Chambers' colleagues, see what they know."

"Hi, I'm Alexander Turner. This is my fiancée, Emily." Sherlock greeted as he and Molly walked into Katrina Chambers' office, adopting a Midwestern American accent and a soft, nervous tone. "Do you have any time to spare, professor?" The woman behind the desk looked up at them as if she wasn't inclined to give them any of her time. Part of the reason was probably the stack of papers sitting on her desk.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Well, we came to talk to you about Dr. Chambers. We knew him and we want to find out what happened to him." This grabbed the woman's attention.

"How did you know my husband?"

"When Xander was a chemistry major and I was pre-med here at Wayne State, we used to attend a lot of his lectures. We talked to him and got to know him. He was a good man and we don't want his murder to go unsolved. We think we can help." Molly answered, trying to match Sherlock's faux accent. He gave the hand he held a squeeze of approval.

"Did you two meet at one of my husband's lectures?"

"Uh, no, we actually met in a biology lab, but our first date was his lecture on chemical warfare." Molly replied with a nervous smile. Sherlock had to resist the urge to grin. He had never expected the pathologist to be so good at this or for her to take the lead. Professor Chambers seemed pretty convinced. She smiled up at them and gestured for them to take a seat in the two chairs in front of her desk.

"I can definitely see Andre being fond of a couple like yourselves. I'm not sure how you can help figure out what happened to him, but since it looks like you're the only ones trying very hard, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"Thank you, ma'am. Did your husband ever talk to you about his work before he started at the science center?" Sherlock spoke up, slipping into detective mode.

"Not much. The only thing he really ever said about it was that he'd seen terrible things when he was working on this government project in Indiana with a group of other scientists. You don't think this has to do with that, do you?"

"It's quite possible. We think maybe he knew something that someone didn't want him to know. We were wondering if you might give us permission to see his body to check some things out." Professor Chambers looked confused at this.

"Hun, even if I give you permission, they aren't going to let you in to see him unless you're a doctor."

"Oh, no, see, it's alright because Emily is a pathologist." Sherlock explained hurriedly.

"Oh, I see. Well, in that case, let me have a look at the permission forms." At this, Molly drew the forms from her bag and slide them across the desk. Katrina Chambers promptly signed them and hand them back. "There you are. I hope you find out why my husband was murdered and let me know when you do."

"Thank you, ma'am. We'll be on our way now."

"Goodbye." With that, the two Brits got up and filed out of the office. In the lift down to the ground floor, Sherlock dropped his fake persona and with it Molly's hand.

"You did very well back there. I'm impressed." he commented and she blushed very brightly. A compliment from Sherlock was nothing to sneer at and he'd directed one at her.

"R-Really?"

"Yes. The idea of Xander and Emily's first date being a lecture never would have occurred to me. That little fact cemented the professor's trust in us very quickly. I can see you'd be useful as an assistant when John is unavailable." The neutrality in Sherlock's tone didn't stop the woman's stomach from filling with butterflies as she beamed back up at him. She caught herself thinking of how small her hand had been in his and how it had been very comforting while she attempted to act her part. She wished he would reach out and take hold of her hand again.

They picked up John not much later. He hadn't been able to find out anything useful, but he was immensely entertained by Sherlock's recounting of what he and Molly had been up to.

"You two pretended to be an engaged nerd couple? Wow. You know, if you were actually together, I wouldn't put it past you to have your first date involve scientific study of some sort."

"Shut up, John." the consulting detective shot back and John just grinned. He was having a grand old time nudging the idea of Sherlock being in love with Molly into the man's head. Molly, however, did not find it quite so amusing.

"So that's what you've been on about all this time. Really, John, that's rather mean of you. You know for a fact that Sherlock isn't interested in people in that way, least of all me, and probably never will be. To suggest otherwise is insensitive to both of us." she said sternly, surprising both of the men. It took them a while to find words with which to respond.

"You're right, Molly. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

"Thank you, Molly, although you are wrong in thinking that if I did wish to explore a relationship, you would be at the bottom of my list of potential partners. You would, in fact, be at the top, logically." This was followed by a long and awkward silence in which John and Molly both thought deeply about what Sherlock had just said. One of them was doing a lot more blushing, though. Sherlock himself seemed totally unbothered. Nobody talked again until they were in a morgue, standing over Andre Chambers' body. The mere mention of Molly's name had the resident pathologists practically shoving them into the morgue after only barely glancing at the permission papers. "As expected, gunshot wound to the back of the head."

"Well, that can't be all you're looking for, otherwise why would we be here?" John put in with a frown.

"We're looking for anything unusual. Dr. Hooper, what does the report say?" Sherlock looked over at Molly, who was flipping through Dr. Chambers' autopsy record and scowling.

"Nothing except the expected, I'm afraid, but maybe they missed something. Did you find anything?"

"There are two small cuts behind the left ear, forming the shape of an 'x'. The meaning of this is clearly connected to the killer and the significance could be any one of a dozen things."

"What do we do next?" Molly asked and Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"We catch our next flight."

A/N: Now that you've read the chapter, I can mention a few things. First off, about the car rental thing. That wasn't just me picking up on what Listrant did. It actually happens to my uncle whenever he comes to visit. He always ends up with a flashy car because the reasonable cars are all taken. One time, he showed up in a black Crown Victoria and I was in the back seat when the thing with the other cars being extra courteous happened. Hilarity ensued. Anyway, I put it in to spice things up. Other interesting facts: The Renaissance Center hosts Youmacon every fall, Wayne State University is the biggest university in Detroit (which includes a tall building that says Wayne on it, so I call it Batman School), and the Michigan Science Center used to be the Detroit Science Center until the city with its horrible money situation couldn't afford it anymore and gave it to the state. In regards to the chapter itself, I hope you found it satisfactory. Any and all feedback is appreciated. ~T.Z.