A/N - So two things:

1 - I have signed up to a writing challenge called '28 Plays Later' where I have to write 28 plays in 28 days - one play a day required by a deadline so chapter updates could be even slower than they are now just to give you a heads up

2 - Meet the face claim for Amber No-Last-Name (and if she does have a last name I have forgotten oop), Cleo's right hand woman, portrayed by Rosalind Eleazar:

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Late evening, nine'o'clock. The Rob'n'Cat Café was closed, most of the tables packed away but the dim lights still shone inside as the girls present gathered around Cleo. It would have been a full group meeting if she could help it, but given the heat on them, she thought that seeing a smaller group might be best. News would travel fast between them anyway.

The leader of the Forty Elephants stood in front of the serving bar, hands holding her phone as she looked for a text to read out to them. Amber and her unmoving bandaged hand stood to the side, glaring at the others if the noise got too much. But there was utter silence when Cleo began to read out the text:

"I know you've taken, Rita. Is she safe? Are you keeping her in hiding? Please, let me know. - E.P." She paused, looking at each of the girls in turn, "We need to decide what we are doing with Dr Rahat. Bear in mind that she has treated many of you over the years. Bear in mind that the Holmes brothers are onto her and know she is hiding something."

There was a little chatter amongst the group but Amber huffed.

"Well, you know what I think."

"I'm not killing her." Cleo glared at her, "We owe her too much to do that to her."

"The others agree."

"And how would you know?"

Amber merely motioned her eyes over to the rest of the group, who sat there as silently as schoolchildren but most were looking at Amber. Some looked away when Cleo looked at them and that was when Ms Black knew she had lost this battle.

"How many of you agree with Amber? Raise your hands, do it."

And all bar four of them raised their hands. Look at that, she thought, she really was losing control. Scowling at Amber and the rest of the girls she shook her head.

"No." Cleo breathed, "How ungrateful are you all? After everything she's done for us - "

"She is a liability, Cleo, and you know it." Amber said.

"No."

"You told me that even Rita said she was useless now. It's no different to...putting down an injured horse."

"Amber - "

"Our thieve's code, remember that? You save yourself, because at least then you might have a chance of saving some loot. If it was any one else, if it was me, you would have killed us in a heartbeat - and we would understand because it would be for the good of the gang."

The frizzy haired leader scoffed, looking away from her group and behind the serving counter instead. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. How would she ever make this go away?

"She needs to go, Cleo."

"NO!" The lioness turned to roar, shocking every other thief rigid in their seats and stances, "All of you answer to me!" She pointed her shaking finger at all of them accusingly, "I have given you all a home, a family, and here you all are making something as serious as murder trivial. "

"Cleo, we're not being irrational."

"No, but - "

"If it was anyone else, Cleo." Amber reiterated, "In a heartbeat."

Cleo shut her eyes, regretting every choice she had made that landed her here. Moriarty was right, there were other doctors and nurses but none like Rita. Amber was right too, if it was anyone else, they would be dead. But no,  not Rita. She was the only one she couldn't bring herself to put down.

And yet she had to.

Exhaling, Cleo ran her hands over her eyes.

"Abi, write a note telling them to meet in front of the Tower Bridge tomorrow, midday. Amber: you, Rach, Della, Anna, Mira and Tanya need to secure the walkways between the towers. It's only going to be our girls up there tomorrow." She paused, "Angie, Zara, Phee, Gia, I need your help shutting up shop. The rest of you, scatter. And Faye, I'll need you to open up tomorrow."

And as the women moved, Cleo stood still, staring at the already packed up corner of chairs and tables, wondering how much more she would lose.

*  *  *  *  *  *

The familiar crackle of the fire warmed Elizabeth as she sat in front of it, cross-legged, experiencing a child-like manner to reminisce about how much simpler life was as a child. John sat in his chair, therapeutically typing up a previous case for his blog.

"I don't think we're going to find Rita." Elizabeth said aloud, shifting the coals with the fire poker.

The tapping stopped and John peered down at her with a sigh, "I'm sure we will."

The thief shook her head, "Think about it, John. If she was hiding something and if two of the smartest people in the world were onto you, what reason would you have to come back? I think she would rather run than be found out."

John acknowledged that she had a point,  "But didn't you say she liked Mycroft? And Mycroft liked her?"

"But now he dislikes her for hiding something from him. She has no reason to come back."

Shutting down his laptop, he placed it on the coffee table to the right of him. He finished off the last bit of tea in his mug before he stood up and stretched.

"I think...that we have both had a long day. The best thing for us both, right now, is sleep." He walked into the kitchen, rinsing his mug in the sink before placing it on the drying rack, then returned to the lounge, "Go on, get to bed. When you're this stressed, sleep will do you good."

"When I'm this stressed, I can't get to sleep."

Exhaling gently, the persistent doctor within him gave up, nodded and started heading to the door, "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

"Night, John."

He paused before he left the lounge for good, "At least try and sleep."

Elizabeth nodded. John left. It was just her and the fire alone.

And a buzz.

She looked at her phone beside her, picked it up and looked at the screen. One new message from Cleo. She didn't hesitate in opening it having waited so long for a response.

<Remember you have your first shift on Thursday. - C.B.>

Elizabeth frowned.

<Cleo, where is she? - E.P.>

<I'll see you at work on Thursday. It's okay, trust me. - C.B.>

Trust her? Trust her when she is effectively avoiding the subject? Trust her when she leads a gang (that Elizabeth herself was now technically part of)? She persisted in asking more questions but received no answer, she even tried to call but the phone hung up. The conversation was over and all she had to go on was trust.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The thief had watched it dance, the fire, watched the curves of each flame undulating like a gymnast's ribbons. She had sat there for hours, staring at it, until it died, until the glowing coals were reminiscent of hardening magma, for every dance had an end.

The clock read '2am'. She disappeared to put on pyjamas, considering the thought of sleep but returned to the living room and remained there until 3am.

She was in the kitchen when she heard it, the creak of the stair. Mrs Hudson most certainly wasn't awake and the creak came from down the stairs rather than from up the stairs so it couldn't be John either. She turned to face the kitchen door that opened out straight onto the landing.

There was another creak, then another and one more that told her that whoever it was, was at the top.

Then she whipped open the door to confront the not-so-quiet shadow. He stopped, looming in the darkness as she stared at him. Both were silent.

"You really need to work on your sneaking."

Sherlock stepped into the light that spilled from the kitchen, replying quietly, "They're old stairs."

"You have to skip the second, fifth and ninth steps - they creak the loudest. Otherwise, just keep as tightly to the sides of the steps as possible."

Sherlock nodded, pulling a face that told her that he was telling himself that he should have known, "Clearly every day is a learning day."

"Clearly."

A small smile lit up both of their faces. Elizabeth reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and pulled him into the kitchen so she could shut the door (with her foot). Sherlock returned the hug as he always did with her, his fond smile growing more as the embrace lasted. But something wasn't right.

The detective pulled away, "What's wrong?"

She didn't hesitate in briefing him on the recent events, "Rita's missing. John and I couldn't work out much. We believe she willingly left with three people." She paused, "Is Irene safe?"

"Doesn't surprise me," Sherlock muttered and shook his head, of course she would leave after he and Mycroft stated their distrust in her. He should have known better, "As for Irene, she's safe...and she's gay and likes you."

Elizabeth blinked, wondering if she was too fatigued to understand what he just said, "I - gay?"

"Yes."

"...Happy?"

"No - well, happy to be alive but also likes women."

"But she- "

"I know. Yes."

"Good actress?"

"Appears so."

"And - likes me?"

"Yeah."

"I'm flattered."

"I'm not."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my partner."

Elizabeth grinned, "Scared I'll run away with The Dominatrix?"

"No." Sherlock shook his head, leaning his head so he could whisper in her ear, "Scared I won't be able to join."

Elizabeth gasped at his risqué joke and playfully hit him on his arm. They fought back laughter between them, both shushing each other in the worry that they would wake John or Mrs Hudson.

"Shut up, they'll hear." She spoke quietly between laughs.

Sherlock adored her laughter. He was completely infatuated with it. Almost like stress relief, that wide smile of hers made all those doubts and worries melt away. For a moment his heart ruled over his head and he leant down to kiss her.

The laughing ceased.

Briefly, Elizabeth's eyes had widened at the contact but promptly closed, glad to be present in the moment. She leant back slightly, resting on the kitchen table as Sherlock held her in his arms. Her hands lay on his pale face and shoulder as the intimate tango of their lips occurred.

He pulled away, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"I've wanted to do that since I left."

She smiled back, "I didn't."

His mouth dropped slightly and brow almost folded in on itself at this response. Bringing a hand to her mouth she stifled her laughter again, looking down and away from him as she giggled.

"I'm - I'm kidding but the look on your face - was priceless."

Another of those pure, adorable detective smiles crept across his face. Elizabeth Parrish, ever the joker. The stress relief was needed though, this moment was needed and they needed each other. When times were hard, the least everyone could do was bring a smile to each other's faces.

Sherlock, shaking his head as she continued to chuckle, took her hands in his and began leading her to their shared bedroom.

He had missed the presence of his partner in the same bed as himself.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

All was quiet in house 221 and nobody stirred (not even a mouse).

Until, of course, John had recieved an informative call from Mycroft which led to him bolting down the stairs like a heard of elephants. He had news and it was news to share.

"Elizabeth!" John shouted from behind their bedroom door, knocking on the wood before barging in, "Mycroft's had a note!"

The doctor went straight for the curtains, letting the light shoot into the room. When he turned to see Sherlock in bed too, John's eyes grew slightly, surprised that he had finally made an appearance.

"Hi Sherlock. Sorry, I didn't realise you would be back so soon."

Sherlock groaned at the whiteness that currently felt like it was burning his retinas, causing both he and thief to squeeze their eyes shut at the brightness. It was a very intense way to be woken up.

"John," Sherlock croaked, running his hands over his eyes, "Has it not occurred to you that some of us have had a late night?"

Sensing John's expression without even looking, Elizabeth raised her arm, pointing her finger accusingly in John's direction, "Not that kind of late night!"

Both were clothed in their pyjamas still, John noted, coming to the conclusion that Elizabeth was telling the truth. His frown eased and John shook his head.

"Well, you shouldn't have decided to investigate late night cases then, should you?" The doctor scolded.

Sherlock huffed in response as he put the duvet over his head, fleeing from the  painful sunlight. John himself was still in his own pyjamas as he waited for a more engaged response out of one of them. Elizabeth was facing away from John on the far side of the bed but truly was working on waking up her brain.

"You said Mycroft got a note?" The thief croaked in question.

"Yes. We don't know who sent it but Mycroft believes it was a woman 'judging by the handwriting'. They're asking us to meet in view of the Tower Bridge at midday."

Sherlock whipped the duvet off of his head, bedraggled brown curls bouncing up and sticking up in all the wrong places.

"Hang on!" Sherlock announced grumpily, "If it asks us to meet at midday why are you telling us now at - " He paused to look at the clock, "At eight!? There's four hours yet, you couldn't have waited another hour?"

John rolled his eyes, "No, Sherlock, because I've just gotten off the phone with Mycroft, who also woke me up painfully early for a non-working day, and I refuse to be the only one who gets to suffer with that."

Elizabeth chuckled quietly, still facing away from the boys as her eyes gradually began to adjust to the light. She had to agree with John on not suffering alone as she came to understand that she probably would have done the same thing. She shifted under the duvet, pulling herself up so that she could sit in the bed to stretch her arms.

"Did the note say why we had to meet at midday?"

John's expression remained hardened although sympathy echoed in those soft brown eyes of his. Sherlock, of course, already knew what John was going to say after his and Elizabeth's conversation last night. In fact, he was surprised it didn't click with the thief swiftly. That said she had just been woken up and his mind had practice and starting up quickly. Even Sherlock looked at her softly.

Elizabeth looked between the men for a moment before the penny dropped.

"Oh..."

*  *  *  *  *  *

John skipped up the dark oak stairs to 221B after having spotted the car outside. Everyone had been dealing with the tension of the situation in different ways. For John, he had mainly tried to distract himself by reading the newspaper or checking his blog; for Sherlock, he mainly sat with Elizabeth at the kitchen table, working on smaller, shorter experiments; as for Elizabeth, she opted to sit and be consumed by the web of doubts, lies and fears that her mind and current situation had become.

"Mycroft's waiting for us out front." John announced to the couple as he walked into the kitchen.

Elizabeth didn't respond, just stared at the table top, wringing her hands anxiously under the table. Her tea had gone cold and the men had noticed that she became less and less talkative the nearer it got to the time they were to meet. That message from Cleo played over in her mind and the more she thought about it, the more her stomach turned. It's okay, trust me - it didn't feel right and most certainly didn't feel okay.

Sherlock looked at John and mouthed to him to go down to Mycroft so long. The army doctor did so quietly, understanding their need for a moment alone.

The detective stood, already in his coat as he found it a comfort, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, unintentionally startling her.

"Are you okay?"

Elizabeth looked up at him, shaking her head, "It doesn't feel right."

"I agree."

"I'm scared for her, Sherlock." She paused, "You might not trust Rita now, but without her you would have died."

The only way Sherlock could respond was by slipping his hand around to her other shoulder and giving her a little side hug. Elizabeth lay her head against his coat.

"Come on." His softer tone had a calming raspy rumble to it, "We shouldn't be late for...whatever is planned."

Reluctantly, the thief pulled away and stood, grabbing her brown leather jacket from off the back of the kitchen chair. She slipped it on and looked at Sherlock who offered her his hand. Elizabeth took it with a small smile, appreciating the reassuring gestures he was committing to.

*  *  *  *  *

Elizabeth skipped down the steps of 221B after Sherlock as he approached the black car waiting out front. They couldn't see much through the darkened windows but could both just about make out the two heads of Mycroft and John waiting in the back. Sherlock opened the  door and politely waited for his partner to slip into the seat beside John (because we all knew Elizabeth would never willingly sit by Mycroft).

"The two of you certainly took your sweet time." Came the irritated drawl of Mycroft Holmes.

"I'm really not in the mood for any of your pretentious, condescending, demeaning comments today, you pompous prick, so I'm going to politely ask, only once today, that you piss off."

All three men's eyes widened at hearing this hostile response from Elizabeth once she was seated beside John and Sherlock next to Mycroft. All the men gazed at her: Sherlock with surprised pride, John with startled astonishment and Mycroft with flabbergasted shock. The thief flashed a sarcastic smile at the government official and the detective beamed as quietly as possible - that was his brother told.

Without a word (only a simmering stare at Elizabeth), Mycroft leant forwards to tap the tip of his umbrella on the seat between Elizabeth and John, signalling to his chauffeur that it was time to go. Shortly after, the car hummed and they were on their way, glares and all.

The ride was silent, but wasn't any quicker this way. All three token investigators had their eyes on the streets outside while Mycroft gazed vengeful, burning holes into Elizabeth, so much so he, himself, was surprised that she didn't end up spontaneously combusting.

Elizabeth might have felt these looks of disdain but was profoundly unbothered by it. Her mind was on what the hell was planned for Rita.

When they reached the tower bridge, all exited the car and, with a wave of his hand, Mycroft sent his driver away. They all looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Are you sure it said meet in front of the Tower Bridge?" John asked.

"Have a look yourself, Doctor Watson." Mycroft said, handing him the note.

Sure enough, it read exactly that. Nodding, he folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, still looking around for any sign of suspicious activity or Rita herself.

Two young women walked past, both speaking German and (intentionally) bumped into Sherlock.

"Es tut mir leid, Herr." The one spoke.

Sherlock nodded, accepting of their apology, "Es ist in ordnung."

"You might need these." The other supposedly German woman then spoke in a perfect British accent and handed him a pair of binoculars.

"And you, you'll need this." The woman who had apologised handed Mycroft a phone.

Both women then spoke in unison to say, "Haben sie einen guten tag," before carrying on their way into the crowd of tourists and locals.

"Binoculars and a phone. Because that's reassuring." Elizabeth said, heading towards the river and peering across at the other side, wondering if the Forty Elephants would be waiting over there.

Sherlock joined her, the same idea popping into his head as he looked through the binoculars to see what he could spot. But there was nothing out of the order either. The Tower Bridge began to raise it's centre, both sides of traffic stopped by this regular occurrence as he lowered the binoculars. A ship lazily passed underneath and just when everyone expected the bridge to be lowered again, it wasn't. Cars began to honk, a low rumble of angry shouting began to buzz and there was the shrill ring of the phone Mycroft had been given.

He answered it, "Who is this?"

"Look up. At the bridge." Came the voice of a woman.

Mycroft and John neared Sherlock and Elizabeth by the river and he placed the phone on loud speaker for them all to hear.

"The bridge, look at the bridge, Sherlock." Mycroft instructed.

And the detective did, spotting two women stood in the centre of the walk way at the top, one behind the other. The one in front had black hair and bandages on her face - he could identify the woman as Rita. The one stood behind her, with boyishly short brown hair, had her arm raised and pointing at the back of her head, Sherlock didn't recognise her. Handing the pair of binoculars to Elizabeth, she also confirmed she saw Rita but also couldn't identify the other woman.

"Do you see us?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered, "Who are you?"

"I think you know who we are."

Sherlock paused, looking at Elizabeth concerned as questioned, "Forty Elephants?"

"Ten points to Gryffindor. Well done."

"What has Dr Rahat got to do with any of you?" Demanded Mycroft.

"Everything really, Mr Holmes. You and your brother were right to be suspicious of her hiding something from you. She was our gang's doctor. Has been for years."

"Was?" John noted.

"'Was' in a multitude of ways momentarily. We are...putting down the injured horse so to speak."

"You don't need to do that." Elizabeth spoke quickly, becoming too caught up in the frightening moment to remember what Cleo had said, "Just let her go."

"Tut tut, Miss Parrish. Don't you see? You suspect her, one of our members who has information about a majority of us and our operations - she has to go. Our Rita even said so herself that she would never be able to perform a surgery the same way again. We've lost our doctor and now we're making sure to not lose anything else of importance to us."

"What do you want?" Mycroft questioned hastily, his heart rarely ruling over his mind, "We can get you anything."

"What we want, Mr Holmes, is for our network to not be destroyed." She paused, "And this is how we'll achieve it."

They all heard a click from the other end of the phone and a quiet sob.

"NO!" All of them yelled.

"We're not unreasonable. We know you quite like our doctor so I'm sure we can give you one last conversation."

"Mycroft?" Came a croak.

"Rita?"

"Mycroft, I'm sorry. I truly am."

"We're going to get you down, Rita, we can get - "

"We both know it's too late for that."

"But Rita - "

"Mycroft, I lo - "

But before she could finish there was a sharp gunshot that echoed out, silencing the hooting cars and angry shouting of drivers.

They all saw her body and the phone fall from the bridge and with a splash into the water.

All four were silent as they saw the limp Dr Rahat float on the surface.

"Oh Jesus..." John breathed at seeing the red cloud begin to subtly tint part of the river.

Elizabeth brought a hand to her mouth, choking back a sob as tears spilled from her eyes.

Mycroft simply dropped the phone and for a moment stood still, his gaze lingering on her floating body, before his tree-like stature began to falter.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at Mycroft sympathetically, "Mycroft..."

His brother's legs went from beneath him as he fell to the ground, shaken by his loss.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock was crouched by his brother's side within seconds.

"I'm - I'm fine." The detective could barely hear his brother say this.

Mycroft's gaze was adrift, falling upon the stone pavement, upon the now cracked phone where he had almost heard Rita's (only) true declaration of love for him. Something in his chest broke, something that hurt more than all the physical injuries the world had to offer, it hurt him deeply.

Elizabeth had turned away from the scene and and straight into John, burying her face in her friend's shoulder as she cried. John just held her tight, feeling the same sense of utter sickness and surrealness as she did.

"I'm so sorry." John apologised, knowing that his previous statement about how she could make their friendship better again was now wholly impossible.

Sherlock looked up at his friend and John down to him, their gazes both silently communicating to each other that none of this was going to be good for either of them. Of course, what had happened was horrific but, other than the fact that Sherlock had just watched the woman who had saved his life die, neither he or John were as close to Rita as Mycroft and Elizabeth had been.

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A/N - I really fought with myself over the title of this chapter.

You see the Tower Bridge in the chapter picture, which is known as London Bridge in the nursery rhyme "London Bridge Is Falling Down", HOWEVER I have quoted the nursery rhyme "Ring'o'ring A Rosies" as the title instead.

But my chapter choices for this chapter were:
■ London Bridge Is Falling Down
■ My Fair Lady
■ We All Fall Down

You can probably tell why I didn't pick the first one - it just made no sense with the chapter - but I really fought between MFL and WAFD.

I ended up picking WAFD because, the "Queen of the Forty Elephants" is falling from her throne as more tensions rise between her and her criminal gals, our dearest Rita takes a fall herself and even Mycroft takes a fall albeit the least out of the three.

The only reason that I would have picked MFL would be because of Rita being Mycroft's 'fair lady' which...in my opinion didn't justify it if it was just for that reason.

Idk why I'm talking about my chapter titles but um...yeah 😂

Hope you are all doing good and taking care of yourselves during these difficult times ❤