Lestrade was about to make a very angry comment when Elena popped up between them again.

"I don't know if it's important, but I remember seeing something about the girl's boyfriend has a criminal record. Maybe you should try talking to him, Sherlock."

Sherlock paused, and then really looked at her.

"Where did you come from?" he asked. "Why are you even here?"

"I've been here since early this morning, and I work here now." Elena looked at him evenly. "For a genius, you can be incredibly dumb and blind sometimes."

"Yes, yes, we've established this, honestly, one would think you haven't read John's blog," Sherlock said, waving a hand. He knew very well what people thought of him, sometimes. It didn't bother him. "Where did you get your information?"

"Public records," Elena said with a shrug. "I got curious so I looked up the two. It wasn't hard to find that information."

Sherlock made a bit of a face at that.

"Public records? People actually read those?" he muttered to himself, turning away again.

Elena snorted at him and took the appropriate papers back from Lestrade before she went back to her desk to get back to work.

Sherlock muttered to himself all the way to the door. Lestrade had the information he needed now, Sherlock was confident the officer would let him know when something new turned up.

It took another day for anything new to turn up. They did find the boyfriend, and brought him in for questioning. Lestrade even phoned Sherlock, although only a bit reluctantly.

So, of course, as the only person who could voluntarily deal with him without trying to kill him, Elena got assigned to him for the day.

Sherlock strode into the room, dramatic as always, although he did pause slightly when he saw Elena. Interesting. Clearly, none of the Yarders wanted to deal with him anymore, and were making their newest addition take on the job. No matter. Loosening his scarf, he went in to talk to the suspect.

Elena just let him go to the correct room to go talk to the guy, who was busy pacing his cell. He stopped when he saw the two, looking at them, clearly wary.

"Whatchu want?" he demanded.

"I want to know what happened," Sherlock said, looking at him. He was getting a wealth of information already, but he still needed the kid to talk.

"Nuthin'," the kid replied sulkily, kicking the wall idly.

"Good luck," Elena said cheerfully to Sherlock, taking a seat to wait this out.

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"You really expect me to believe that, when you're clearly wearing a four-day-old shirt and older trousers, and haven't slept properly in... five days? Not slept, likely have barely been home, although that could be mistaken as grief over your late girlfriend... Come now, you do know who I am, do you not?"

"You ain't got nuthin' on me," the boy said, glowering at him rather impressively. "Else you wouldn't be asking, would you?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"You have a rather impressive criminal record, for someone your age," he said. "That alone was enough to get you here. Compound that with the fact that your late girlfriend was an acquaintance of the murdered man, and that makes you an interesting person, indeed." He leveled a speculating gaze on the boy.

"Interesting person dun' mean anything," the boy said, turning away from Sherlock and going back to kicking the wall balefully.

"It does when the police have reason to suspect you of carrying an unlicensed weapon," Sherlock said dryly. "What was it you started with, a pen knife? I suspect that wasn't intimidating at all, nobody would let you get away with their valuables with you waving a little pen knife at them. The combat knife, that was a stroke of luck, though, until the police caught you for it. And then you found a gun somewhere, didn't you? And by that point you were desperate enough to use it. You weren't really going to shoot anyone, of course not, you're just a boy, but when that man startled you in the middle of your petty theft... It doesn't matter much now whether or not you planned to use the gun, it seems to be a bit of a moot point." He watched the boy's reactions as he spoke, waiting for the tells he was looking for.

The boy didn't say anything for a moment, though he was clearly uncomfortable. "Didn't do nuthin'," he muttered again, looking away from Sherlock.

"Don't lie to me, you're not good at it," Sherlock said flatly. He could see that the boy was uncomfortable. "I was right, was I not? About most of it, at the very least. You had might as well confess and save everyone the trouble of finding the information another way."

The boy remained stubbornly silent, though, for several long moments. It wasn't until Elena shifted to get up and leave.

"It was her idea," he muttered.

"Her?" Sherlock repeated. "Of course. Your girlfriend. That's likely why she killed herself. She hadn't intended on such extreme results, had she? She wanted a bit of extra money, and instead got a murder. That would be enough to upset any young woman, I expect."

"She said he wouldn't be home." The boy still would not look at Sherlock, instead focusing his attention on Elena. She just watched quietly.

"Because it was a Tuesday night," Sherlock said. "And his routine would have clearly put him at the diner on a Tuesday evening, except he broke his routine that night." That was a detail that still nagged at him, but he would have to look into it later. Why would the man have broken his routine? He set the question on the back burner for the moment.

The boy grumped wordlessly, still watching Elena.

"Anything else?" Elena prompted the two, wanting to be done as soon as possible.