"You … repel … me," Holmes said. He turned away, dropped Kitty's Dictaphone in the trash, and walked out of the men's room.
Kitty picked it up out of the trash and stood there for a moment, glaring at the closed door. She took a breath and started to dictate. "The words of a man with plenty to hide. He paid more attention to the ink splotch than he did my tits – definitely gay. Find photos of him and Watson together. Interview Watson's ex-girlfriends, his beards. I'm sure some of them will dish. Anyone who's that much of a prick to women must have gone to some posh all-boys boarding school. Look into Holmes' history there. Find out who was fucking him, who he fucked over. Interview the forensics guy who was quoted in the Mail last year. See if Holmes has a history with that silver fox DI who's bringing him in on cases. Check if there have been complaints against him or Watson – excessive force, violating evidentiary procedures, anything like that."
She clicked the Dictaphone off and slid it back into her pocket. "I'm smart enough to see the tide is turning, Holmes. All those articles - the press is gonna turn on you. And if you're not clever enough to ride the wave with me, you can drown in the backwash."