It starts as a slip of the hand.

They're standing in the at the crime scene, arguing over a dead body.

"I don't see how you can –"

"Of course you don't see, you're not even looking!" Sherlock takes out his phone, flipping angrily through a few pictures before he freezes. His expression goes blank and the tension and anger seems to fall away from him like water. His fingers slip, and the phone falls from his gasp, clattering to the ground and shattering.

Sally bends down to pick up his phone, but Sherlock unfreezes and lunges for it before she can. He brushes it off, completely ignoring the shattered screen as he flips to whatever he wanted to show Sally.

"Everything alright?" she asks, slightly sarcastic.

"Phone works fine," he nods.

"That's not what I meant."

Sherlock looks up at her and rolls his eyes. "In case you missed it, we're hear to investigate dead bodies – not living ones, now –"

Sherlock launches off into some tirade about how the state of the victim's shoes identifies the murderer, but Sally isn't listening. Sally is observing.

Sherlock looks like shit, that much is obvious. But it takes a true detective to notice the little details. The hazy, almost confused look in his eyes. How his fingers trembles slightly when they're not in use. How he reacts to any minor stimuli, like flashing lights or sudden hand movements.

But Sally's been around while, and she's seen Sherlock up and down and all around. She should be used to this by now.

But she's not.

She goes home and tries to put it out of her mind.

It doesn't work.

She didn't feel guilty when he died.

She did not feel guilty when he died.

She thought he was a psychopath – rightly so. She did her duty to Queen and country. She did her job. If she'd known Sherlock was innocent, she wouldn't have done it.

It's not her fault he jumped.

It is not her fault he jumped.

That's what she told herself every night during 'the Great Hiatus'.

It's not my fault, she lied.

It didn't help.

...

Notes:

Sally needs more love. I was inspired to write this because I'm tired of her being type-cast as the alpha-bitch in every fic she's in. In my opinion, Sally is like a female, slightly ruder, version of Sherlock.

This will be a lose adaption of 'The Adventures of the Dying Detective'. It will end with Johnlock/Parentlock/Mystrade.

Alternatively titled (In which Sally fixes everything.)

Please enjoy! There will probably be 10 chapters total, so make sure to follow or subscribe or update for more!