A three-day investigation into a native American couple's murder inside their own flower shop had led up to this moment, which couldn't accurately be summed up without a bit of a run-on sentence.

Unfortunately, an arrest had been made too soon, and now it was a race against time to get a confession for the murder. The suspect, another native, apparently belonging to the same tribe, but had never enrolled himself.

And that's precisely why, upon being notified of the situation, a hyperactive thirty something year old came flying through the precinct, grabbing a packet of crackers off his desk as he went.

Two months before, the precinct had gotten a new human being who did psych evals. Jake forgot their names. Either way, he had to go see the therapist about his recent stint in prison, and she wanted to know more about him for her file. Which sounded a lot like that song about a woman named Mrs Robinson.

But then that therapist visit turned into a five-hour visit, and then another visit that took about the same amount of time, then a diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Type three. Long story short, Amy put off talking about going to a doctor again, for a while.

"Jake." Captain Holt's voice boomed through the precinct, stopping the younger man short, even if he did skid a little and nearly fall over his own feet, "why are you running?"

Amy looked up from her computer in interest. Jake straightened up quickly though, and grabbed onto the edge of Boyle's desk to steady himself while he blurted out a single word, "interrogation!"

"Yes, I too can shout seemingly nonsensical words." Holt looked… like an (un)amused Holt? Then for a split second his face lit up, and he shouted, "Catamaran!" before returning to his stoic position.

Terry's head bolted up from his paperwork, and Rosa stared at him, forgetting to actually drink the coffee in her hand.

Jake gave a goofy confused smile, "why was that the first word that came to your mind?"

"Detective, the room's ready for you!" A uniform yelled from the hallway, drawing Jake's attention away from the happenings around him,

"Tell me what a catamaran is when I'm done- BAI!" and Jake was off down the hallway.

"Jake!" Amy's voice stopped him in his tracks, "You forgot something!"

He stared at her, trying to figure out what she meant. She pulled a bottle of pills out of the top drawer in his desk and chucked it at him. He caught it against his chest.

"oh, right…" He put the bottle in his pocket, "ahdeeohs mooochahchohs!"

"what was in the bottle?" Terry looked over at Amy for an answer, while motioning towards the hallway that Jake had just run down.

"People finally realized Jake is terminal." Gina spoke up from her desk, without looking up from her phone.

"What!?" Amy turned to her, "No!" with attention back on her, she felt the sudden need to explain, "they got a new lady for the psych eval, she put Jake through some tests and it turns out…" she trailed off, and Holt picked up the slack,

"Jake has ADHD."

"WHAT!?" Boyle had just come in from the kitchenette, he dropped his coffee mug and it shattered on the floor, "How come he told you two before he told me!?"

"So now he's going to like, totally fail all his drug tests." Gina sounded way to exited about her own statement.

"He is not," Amy corrected, "its in his file."

"Which is why I had to know." Holt stared at Boyle as the man looked down at his shattered coffee.

"Coolio, a file." Gina lost interest.