Sherlock caught sight of the road as they walked to the carriage that would take him to Scotland Yard so he made a run for the road.

"Hey! Watch him! He's running!" Gregson shouted as Sherlock stood beside the muddy road.

"Quiet, Gregson!" Sherlock shot back with a grimace.

"Give me some warning next time. Did you find another clue?" Lestrade asked, still holding the cuff lead that was connected to Sherlock's handcuffs.

Sherlock knelt down and studied the tracks in the mud. "Perhaps... how curious..."

Phoebe stood beside John, watching Sherlock carefully.

"Lestrade, listen. To solve this, I need to escape," Sherlock explained, eliciting a soft gasp from Lestrade. "I can't find the true culprit behind bars. When this mystery's concluded, you and the yard can take credit for solving it. But first, I'm going to need you to do me this favour."

"I don't know, Sherlock." Lestrade shook his head slightly.

"Have I ever been wrong before? I need you to trust me."

After Sherlock was taken by Lestrade and Gregson to be detained at Scotland Yard, Phoebe followed John.

"We have to find a way to get him out of this," Phoebe said softly as she concentrated on the problem.

"We are. Sherlock gave me this note. He wants us to meet him at this location," John said as he pulled out a slip of paper.

"So that's what he was telling you earlier. Which means he has a plan to get there. Come on."

Phoebe and John began to run towards the location Sherlock had indicated.

-

"Are you sure he his plan worked? What if he's not coming?" John asked as he looked at Phoebe with doubt in his eyes.

"Trust me. You don't know Sherlock Holmes like I do. He's to stubborn to let whatever his plan is fail. He'll-"

"He'll what?" A voice came from behind her and she whipped around to see the man they were waiting for. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Sherly!" Phoebe walked over to him with a smile, noticing that he was now holding the handcuffs that had previously been on him.

"Will you stop calling me that?" Sherlock grimaced.

"As long as it continues to annoy you, I'll continue to call you that," Phoebe replied as she lightly punched his chest.

"I'm relieved you managed to slip away from them," John said as he smiled at the detective.

"Smart chap. Although, I'm a wanted man with Scotland Yard hunting me. So, John, Phoebe. Do you still want to get involved in this case?"

"Yes, of course. After all, if you go to prison, who do you think's going to end up having to pay your half of the rent?" John joked with a grin.

"To avoid such a heinous crime, we must settle this quickly," Sherlock replied as he stood with his hands in his pockets.

"Wait. Do you already know who the culprit is?" John questioned in disbelief.

"As to their specific identity, no. Not yet. But after laying a trap with this, we'll lure them in." Sherlock held up a golden ring.

"Someone's ring." John then realized. "You found it by the desk?"

"What can I say? I have a rare talent for pilfering things," Sherlock admitted with a grin.

Phoebe huffed as she remembered how much trouble he got in the one time he was actually caught pickpocketing someone on the streets when they were twelve.

"Do me a favor. Going forward, will you only use these abilities for the greater good?" John requested as he looked down.

"Don't hold your breath, John." Phoebe ndged him.

"That leaves one final question," Sherlock spoke as he turned to Phoebe. "Are you in as well. You can go home if you want, but I would appreciate your help."

"I told you yesterday that I would help with the case from the Noahtic. If this is even possibly connected then I should be here to help you solve it like you asked of me," Phoebe replied as she gave him a warm smile. "Plus, why would I go home. I haven't had this much fun in a while!"

Sherlock grinned as he gripped the locket that was in the pocket of his trousers.

"That's my girl."

-

Sherlock sat on some crates as he looked at a newspaper in an alleyway. Phoebe looked over his shoulder, reading the message John had wrote in the personal columns of The Brighty Observers newspaper.

"Good. The carrot is dangled," Sherlock spoke up with his usual grin plastered on his face.

"Now that's done, what's our next step?" John questioned as he looked down at Sherlock and then at Phoebe.

"So glad you asked," Sherlock replied as he looked up at his new flatmate.

"Ready. I've rounded 'em alll up," a young voice came from another connecting alleyway.

Phoebe looked to see a group of young boys who looked to be late single digits to early double digits.

"And you are?" Phoebe asked as she looked at the boy who had spoken.

"I'm the captain of the infamous Baker Street Irregulars. Name's Wiggins," the little brunette boy said as he pointed to himself with a little grin.

"They don't work for you, right? They're only children," John spoke in shock.

"To the untrained eye, a band of grimy street urchins," Sherlock replied as he stood up and walked over to Wiggins, bending over to look him in the eye.

"You didn't have to call us grimy, guv,' Wiggins complained as he turned his head.

"They do everything, from finding lost goods to running errands. After all, the whole city is their home. They're far more helpful than the police," Sherlock began to explain to which Phoebe crossed her arms with a grimace. "Consider them my eyes and ears."

"We ain't your minions, ya know! And don't expect us to work for free non either!"WIggins shouted to which turned Phoebe's grimace to a grin.

"Please, you know me. You will receive your reward, after you finish the job," Sherlock reminded as he looked at the young boy. He then looked at Phoebe. "He's as spunky as you were at that age."

"I'm confused. What exactly are these lads going to do?" John questioned as he turned his gaze from the kids back to Sherlock.

"Just provide a little assistance," Sherlock replied.

"And along with the payment you'll get from Sherlock, you would come to his flat after this is all done and I'll make you all a warm meal with some pie," Phoebe offered and all the kids gasped, including Sherlock.

"Really? We'll get to eat pie!" One of the boys in the back asked and Phoebe laughed lightly.

"Yes. You'll all get to eat pie. And yes, I can see you, Sherly. You can have pie too," Phoebe replied as she turned to look at him, backing up slightly from how close he was to her now.

Sherlock did a little happy dance and looked at the irregulars. "You boys are in for a treat. She makes the best pie in all of London. Maybe even the world!"

Phoebe laughed at the childish gleam in his eyes. Even the littlest things he did made her smile. having this light back in her life made her wonder how she ever lived without it for so long.

-

"Are you sure you want me with you for this? Wouldn't it be better if I waited inside with John?" Phoebe asked quietly as she stood beside Sherlock in an alleyway next to 221B.

"I'm sure. Are you cold?" Sherlock asked as he took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Phoebe smiled and held the jacket around her. "A little, but I'm fine."

Sherlock hummed and just paid attention to the people passing the flat.

"So, what was it you were gonna say earlier?" Phoebe asked and Sherlock was about to answer when he saw a little old lady walking up to the front for of the flat complex.

"I'll tell you after this case. I promise," Sherlock replied quietly as he watched the lady.

Phoebe caught sight of her as well and nodded as she fell silent.

After waiting for the old woman to leave the flat, Sherlock stepped out of the alley and began to follow her, Phoebe doinf the same.

As it rained, Phoebe kept Sherlock's jacket wrapped tight around her. It smelled of tobacco ash and other chemicals that she couldn't put her finger on.

The two walked side by side in silence as to not draw attention to themselves.

The lady turned into an alley to which Sherlock and Phoebe turned into as well. Upon entry, they saw that the woman was gone.

"Spry for a little old lady!" Sherlock said as he took off running, Phoebe following suit.

She let go of his jacket, but in the moment, she didn't much care.

The two ran side by side and saw the old lady turn another corner.

Sherlock paused to think, but Phoebe already had an idea.

"This way!" She grabbed his hand and tugged him along. The two made their way onto the roofs of the nearby buildings and Phoebe saw movement in an alley below them.

Without a second thought, Sherlock leapt down and threw a punch, narrowly missing the spritely old lady.

She dodghed and kicked at Sherlock which he blocked, throwing more punches, trying to catch her off guard with a swift uppercut as well as throwing a kick. The old lady, however, merely kept backing away until Sherlock landed a clean hit on her face.

The mask that the person was wearing shattered, revealing that they infact were not a little old lady.

Sherlock grabbed them by the cloak and picked them up. "Now, to find out who you really ar-ah!" Sherlock shouted as the person grabbed his wrist and flipped him over.

Phoebe had made her way down to the alley ground by then. She didn't think jumping in heels would've been the best idea.

"You there! Stop!" John's voice came from the exit of the alley as the carriage he was in pulled to a stop.

The individual sprung up and leapt from a window ledge on the wall onto the carriage before disappearing from sight.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" Phoebe asked as she helped him up and he groaned.

"Never better," Sherlock grumbled as he rubbed his back, making his way over to John.

They all looked up at a building on the opposite side of the street to see the previously little old lady standing on the roof, clouded by the fog in the air.

Sherlock punched the wall of the alley as he grinned, thrilled by what had just transpired, even if he was aggravated. "Damn! I should've known they wouldn't let themselves get caught so easily. They got one over on me."

Phoebe then realized that she had dropped Sherlock's suit jacket and she looked up at him. "Sorry about your jacket. I'll get you a new one."

"Don't worry. You can pay me back with pie," Sherlock replied as he stood up straight.

"Next time we do this, remind me to not dress to poofy. It's hard to maneuver in this dress." Phoebe smacked down the sides of her dress with a huff.

Sherlock chuckled as they started walking down the sreet.

"I've been telling you that since we were kids."

"Well, I didn't really plan to have you arrested for murder tonight. I planned on having a nice chat with Miss Hudson about maybe moving into one of her flats," Phoebe shot back with a grimace.

Sherlock perked up and smiled at her excitedly. "So you're gonna do it then? You're really gonna move in?"

"I'm thinking about it. I mean, if this is gonna be a regular occurence then I suppose it will be handy to live closer to you and John. But, I also have wanted to open a bakery for a while and there is a nice place right around the corner that is up for sale," Phoebe explained.

"I think a bakery is a terrific idea!" Sherlock exclaimed before John cleared his throat.

"Getting back on subject, that man just now, was he the mastermind we're searching for?" John asked as he brought the other two back on track.

"No, probably just one of his associates. I believe you were right about it being a group, Phoebe," Sherlock answered as he shoved his hands back into his pockets.

"Meaning you two believe there are more?"

"More than likely, yes," Sherlock confirmed as he nodded slowly. "But that will have to wait for the moment as finding Drebber's killer comes first."

"But how? That ring was the only lead we had and now it's gone," John reminded as he continued walking with his eyes rested closed.

"What? No need to be so gloomym" SHerlock said as he looked over to the doctor. "At this point, John, the crime is all but solved."

The three stopped.

"Are you telling me you know who murdered Lord Drebber?"

"Sure," Sherlock confirmed for John and Phoebe huffed through her nose.

"Well then who on earth is the killer?" Phoebe asked in disbelief as she looked at SHerlock. "So help me, Holmes, if you've known this entire time, I'll-"

"Perfect," Sherlock cut her off as he spotted a small dining place. "Why don't you wait for me in there. I shant be long."

"But, Serlock," John started as the detective began to stroll away. "Wait! Where are you-"

"Don't worry about it, John. Let's just wait there like he said," Phoebe said as she turned to the road.

-

Phoebe sat in the small cafe as she sqirled the coffee she had gotten.

"Unbelievable. Did he really discover who the killer is?" John spoke up after a while as he looked at Phoebe.

"Knowing him, I wouldn't doubt it," Phoebe replied after sipping her tea.

"Why'd he have to keep us in suspense?"

Phoebe sighed as she shrugged before jumping slightly as she saw Sherlock standing in the window with a wide grin, pointing towards a carriage.

"All done! Let's go," came Sherlock's muffled voice through the window.

Phoebe smiled as she shook her head and stood up.

As the three got into the carriage, Phoebe slipped in the middle, pulling her dress up over itself so they weren't too cramped.

"This arrived from Lestrade. Lord Drebber's past. I asked the inspector to check into it for me," Sherlock said as he handed Phoebe a file which she opened and let John read with her.

Phoebe felt her stomach plummet to her feet as she read the file.

"The man was a philanderer without equal. With a particular fondness for molesting women of lower standing. We can't begin to imagine what they were forced to endure," Sherlock explained as tears filled Phoebe's eyes. "If a victim threatened to talk, he usually settled the matter with money. Unfortunately, there was one who proved to be an exception to this rule. Lucy Ferrier."

Phoebe looked at the page with Lucy's information on it. She read the gruelling details before having to give it all to John, completely disgusted.

"She had recently married a local farmer by the name of Jefferson Hope. When her body was discovered, her remains were returned home. Sadly, there were a significant number of horrifying bruises to the body."

"This is a positively tragic story. You're saying the true killer is-" John trailed off.

"The man who took Lord Drebber's life, is the same Jefferson Hope, murderer, and our driver, oddly enough." Sherlock lookedup with a grin aws he crossed his arms over his chest.

John gasped while Phoebe held her breath, both of them looking up as well.

"Isn't that right, Jefferson Hope?" Sherlock had his typical grin on his face, knowing he was right.

"I must say, I'm surprised you investigated so thoroughly," Hope spoke and Phoebe let her breath out as she shot Sherlock a glare.

"You know, having your carriage driven by a murderer isn't something many people get to experience," Sherlock said as he pressed his fingers together.

"Look, I'm not doubting your methods, Holmes, but even if the inscription on the ring is connected to this Jefferson Hope, that's still not enough evidence to prove that he's the same man as our cab driver!" John started in utter disbelief, a feeling he was already becoming familiar with in the presence of the consulting detective.

"You raise a good point. I arrived at my conclusion from two different lines of reasoning. The first one was the ring that we found. The second was a set of wheel tracks. Thanks to some rain earlier that evening at the scene, they were quite visible. All the houses belonged to noblemen, who own four wheel carriages, driven by two horses. However, in front of the Earl's manor, there were smaller tracks belonging to a narrower cab."

Phoebe hummed as she agreed that this was a very narrow cab. SHe felt squished, but she couldn't complain to much since at least she was in the middle.

"No killer would be foolish enough to arrive in a carriage, commit the murder, hop back in the cab, then return home. Otherwise, the driver would've had a clear view of whoever the killer was. WHich means, the culprit was someone who bore no risk of that happening. What remains? He would have had to drive himself there. In response, I sent the Irregulars off in search of someone who met the following criteria: A driver of a handsome cab, who was a large man with pudgy fingers. Additionally they would have gone to Number Three the day of the crime. One person came up right away."

"Let me guess, Jefferson Hope," John said as he put his gaze onto Sherlock.

"Despite not knowing the contents of Lestrade's report, the Irregulars turned up the same man. In short, it wasn't difficult to put a name to the shooter. Case closed." Sherlock looked so pleased with himself. "One question. The manner in which you killed Drebber, why so coarse. The plan demanded precision on all levels. Elegance, yet your execution was sloppy."

"It's true. Though his death was to be carried out with more finesse, I couldn't help myself! Not when I came face to face with Drebber. You expected me to remain level-headed. Seeing' that monster? The man who killed my wife? Well, Sherlock Holmes, how about makin' a deal with me?"

🔎

Hope took them to a graveyard where the fog hung thick in the air.

"Be smart, Mister Hope! You've already achieved your goal, haven't you? Is that not enough? Turn yourself into the police," John spoke as he stood a little behind Sherlock.

"Turn myself in?" Hope went to make a remark before he began to cough, a sharp pain going through his chest as blood spilled out of his mouth. "A futile gesture. You see, I don't have much time left. At this stage of the game, I may as well be dead. All's lost. I gave all I had to my benefactor."

"This deal-- and what, pray tell, are the terms?" Sherlock questioned, getting more and more excited with each second that past.

"It's a simple matter, gentlemen, and miss," Jefferson replied as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a pistol.

John quickly responded by pulling out his own pistol and aiming it at the man, only for Sherlock to gently push his arm down. Phoebe moved behind Sherlock slightly as she watched Hope carefully.

"My life has been destroyed by the corruption of aristocrats. My tale's  at an end, and I want you to close my book." Hope knelt down and placed his gun on the ground before sliding it over to Sherlock, John, and Phoebe. "In other words, pick up the gun and end this sufferin'. Since you uncovered Drebber's vile sins, it's only fittin' that I die by your hand.," Hope continued as he looked at his hand covererd in his own blood.

Phoebe then caught sight of a figure on a nearby roof. "Sherlock!" She whispered in shock as she drew all their attention to the figure.

"And who's that?" Holmes asked as he watched the figure stand on the roof, observing all of them as his long cloak flowed in the breeze.

'The one who got Lucy's ring back for me," Hope answered as he too watched the man on the roof. "Events have been carefully arranged after I'm dead. Kill me and he'll reveal the identity of my benefactor."

"Attending to your affairs before you're even gone from this world. How very thorough," Sherlock replied.

"Yes, it is. He truly is an incredible person," Hope remarked with his dead eye stare. "When I arrived at Drebber's mansion at the appointed time, the door opened as if by magic, and there was nary a soul around to interfere. The man is a true criminal genius. My benefactor holds you in high regard. Enough to want your name left at the scene to see if you could solve the case."

"But to what end, though? Why engineer such an elaborate scheme?"

"You wanna know? Pull the trigger and all will be revealed." Hope threw out his arms, acting as though he were in a play performance.

"Tempting, but seeing as I'm considered a murder suspect on the run, I don't think killing you would do much in the way of clearing my name," Sherlock reminded and Phoebe hummed, constantly glancing at the figure on the roof.

"Don't worry about that. Once you shoot me, he'll arrange for a witness to come forward, providing testimony that'll all but guarantee your freedom. You see? The arrangement benefits you as well. Kill me and both of us will get exactly what we desire. Make your decision, sir."

After a moment of eerie silence, Sherlock spoke up. "You're right. It would prove a great relief to the both of us."

Phoebe shocked as Sherlock knelt down to grab the gun at his feet. She knew he wasn't one to let someone give him the answers, so if he did shoot, she would be surprised.

John, however, reacted immediately, aiming his pistol at Sherlock's heead. "I can't let you do that! You know that this is wrong!"

"How so? He gets a quick death and I get the identity of the matermind," Sherlock replied.

"John, stop," Phoebe tried as she attempted the push his arm away from Sherlock.

"That may be true. But shoot that gun, and there's no going back!" John warned as he kept his aim and his grip sturdy.

"Don't listen to him! You're a man who seeks out mysteries. There's no satisfaction eithout a solution," Hope shouted as he glared at John, urging Sherlock to grant his wish. "And you wanna know who created the ultimate mystery, don't you? So shoot me and you'll have you're answer."

"You're wrong!" Phoebe shouted back as Sherlock stood up with the gun.

"No, Sherlock, please! Put it down!" John cried out in horror. "Don't do it!"

"John!" Phoebe shoved his arm down as Sherlock fired the gun.

Everyone paused as the birds all shot away from the scene at the sudden loud bang.

Hope stood still, expecting a sharp pain somewhere in his body, but he felt nothing. He felt numb.

SHerlock began to laugh as he pushed his bangs back a bit. "So sorry. I won't kill you."

"You're a fool if you don't! Their identity will stay a secret!"

"I'll have to figure it out on my own? Now imagine that! Please, enough insults, you daft bastard," Sherlock scolded with a grimace.

"Your benefactor must not know Sherlock very well if they thought he would allow someone to just give him the answers on a silver platter," Phoebe spoke up as John lowered his gun shakily.

"The lady's right! The satisfaction is finding the solution on your own! There's always some sod that comes along and tried spoiling my fun! I'll have none of it!" Sherlock shouted as he pointed at Hope.

"Thank God." John fell to his knees making both Sherlock and Phoebe look at him. "Seriously, thank God."

"John?" Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at the doctor's behaviour.

"I'm so sorry!"

"Just pull yourself together!" SHerlock grunted as John threw himself at Sherlock's waist, hugging him tightly.

"Please forgive me for doubting you! Even for a moment!" John wailed and Phoebe couldn't help but giggle.

"You're forgiven. Just get off of me!"

Phoebe helped John get back to his feet and she laughed a bit more as Sherlock began to make his way to Hope.

"You knew that he wouldn't shoot..." John murmured and Phoebe hummed.

"Well yes. Sherlock loves mysteries. Always has. If I know one thing, Sherlock hates having someone spoil a mystery for him. It ruins the experience for him," Phoebe replied as she turned to watch Sherlock.

"You admire him a great deal, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose I do," Phoebe looked down slightly as a smile spread across her face.

"Truly, I'm sorry I wasn't able to grant your request. Your final wish," Sherlock spoke as he locked the handcuffs that were previously on him onto Hope's wrists.

They walked back to the main road and Sherlock turned to John and Phoebe.

"I'll take him to Scotland Yard and then meet you back at the flat, unless you are gonna go home, Phee," Sherlock said as he looked at the brunette woman in front of him.

"I have to speak with Miss Hudson anyway, so I'll go back with John," Phoebe replied and Sherlock nodded.

"I will see you both back at the flat then."

Phoebe watched as Sherlock led Hope to Scotland Yard before she turned to John. "Shall we get a cab?"

"Yes, we shall," the doctor replied as he looped his arm with her.

The two had to walk for a little bit before they found a carriage to take them back to Baker Street.

After geeting to the flat, they were met with Martha pacing in the living room.

"We're back," John spoke up and Martha immediately ran over.

"And Sherlock?"

"He's at Scotland Yard. He'll be back soon," Phoebe replied.

"Good. Thank you both so much," Martha said as she bowed her head respectfully.

"It's no problem. But, I actually wish to speak to about something," Phoebe spoke.

"About?"

"I would like to know if I could move into one of your flats."

-

Sherlock got home from Scotland Yard and he sighed, stretching his arms out as he yawned.

"Another case solved. Now, I have to-"

He paused when he saw the sleeping form of Phoebe resting peacefully on the loveseat in the livingroom.

He smiled as he saw one of the letters she had written him in her hand. The rest of the letters were still tied up in a pile, but they were on the ground beside the loveseat. He carefully put the letters back on the mantel.

Sherlock turned back and hummed softly before walking back over to Phoebe, scooping her up in his arms. He took her in his bedroom and gently set her on his bed, tucking her in carefully.

"Goodnight, Phoebe," he murmured before he went to leave, only to hear her roll over.

Her sleepy eyes fluttered open. "Wait."

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked back to her.

"What were you gonna tell me earlier. I want to know," Phoebe mumbled.

Sherlock chuckled lightly. "I wanted to thank you for always being there for me when we were younger. In truth, you were my best friend. Now, get some sleep."

Phoebe smiled before her eyes closed once again.

Sherlock left the room and sat down on the loveseat, letting himself drift off to sleep as well.