Phoebe took the diary from the man she learned was named Philip Anderson and she grabbed the note.

"What are you-"

"It's a fake," Phoebe cut him off.

"How can you possibly-"

"Handwriting. This man writes his little 'i' with a circle instead of a dot. In the suicide note some of the 'i's are written with a dot. In the note the 't's are written with a little hook where as in the man's diary, they are written the way you would normally see a written 't'," Phoebe explained and Sherlock grinned. "He obviously tried to make his writing look like the man's but writing is a habit that's hard to break."

"Very good," Sherlock complimented.

"Great, we have another Sherlock Holmes amongst us," Anderson muttered.

"Not really. You just pick up a few tricks when you grow up with him," Phoebe shrugged.

"Now, what else do you see?" Sherlock asked Phoebe and she looked around.

"The gunshot wound matches up with-" She caught sight of something on the edge of the door. "Sherlock, height?"

"About five feet four inches," he said as he looked at the body.

"Any blood on the hands?"

"No, clean," he said as he looked. "They were washed, possibly after the murder."

"There was a struggle. There is blood on the door which is way to high up for this man. The person we're looking for is approximately six feet tall," Phoebe said and Sherlock was mildly impressed.

"After this many years and you're better than I remember," Sherlock said.

"Mycroft kept me sharp. I also do love a good escape room," Phoebe said as she straightened out her jacket.

"Alright then, we'll get on the search. Good work." Lestrade nodded in approval.

"Thank you, now, can I get back to work?" Phoebe looked at Sherlock.

"Can I come?"

"I would really prefer if you didn't," she said and he grimaced.

"Fine. I'm expecting those cookies by dinner," he said before walking out.

Phoebe sighed and walked out as well. She got a cab back to work and shook her head.

🔎

John walked into the flat and saw Sherlock composing again.

"So, how did it go? Did you solve it?"

"Sort of. It was mostly Phoebe," Sherlock said as he wrote down a few notes on the musical staff.

"You called Phoebe? Really?" John sat down in his chair.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Um, because she was at work and she also doesn't seem to like having you around," John pointed out.

"Well, she didn't really even need me. Granted she was slower to noticing the blood spot than I was, but I let her figure it out," Sherlock said as he started playing again.

"Like you do with me?" John opened the newspaper.

"What's the point in having an assistant if you don't make them do stuff too?" Sherlock looked over at him.

"Sherlock, dear, your flat is a mess," Mrs Hudson said as she walked into the flat.

"I know, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock put his violin away and lied down on his couch. "What's for dinner, Mrs Hudson?"

"Casserole, but I'm only your landlady," Mrs. Hudson said and John hummed.

"We know, Mrs Hudson," he said as he put down the paper.

There was a knock on the door and Sherlock jumped up. He ran over and opened the door.

"Here are your cookies," Phoebe said as she looked up at him.

"Brilliant!" He took the plate of cookies from her before shutting the door.

John looked over. "Who was that?"

"Phoebe," Sherlock said as he ate a cookie.

"Why didn't you offer to let her in?" Mrs Hudson looked out from the kitchen.

"Why would I?"

"Because that is the polite thing to do, dear," Mrs Hudson said to him.

"She's probably gone by now," Sherlock said with a shrug.

"Why don't you actually try to be nice to her? You might make a friend," Mrs Hudson suggested.

"I don't make friends, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock grabbed a cup and poured some tea.

"John is your friend," she said as she made dinner.

"He's not my friend," Sherlock said before he sipped his tea.

"Oh, I forgot that you two-"

"I am not gay, Mrs Hudson!" John exclaimed from his chair.

"Whatever you say dear," the lady said with a smile. "I think making a friend would be good for you Sherlock."

"I told you, I don't make friends."

"Why not?" She asked as she put out a plate for him.

"To busy with work. No time for friends," Sherlock said as he took the plate.

"But she's a sweet girl," Mrs Hudson said with a frown.

"And she can help you solve cases when I'm not available," John added as he stood up. "Even Mycroft seems to enjoy her company."

"Mycroft always had a soft spot for her. I'm not sure why," Sherlock said as he sat down on his couch.

"Why don't you ask her out for a cup of tea tomorrow or dinner?" John suggested.

"I will not go on a date with her, John!"

"I meant as friends. I think she would slap you if you asked her on a date," John clarified and Sherlock hummed.

"Do I have to?" He asked as he ate his food.

"Sherlock! Do not talk with your mouthful! Didn't your mother teach you manners?" Mrs Hudson scolded him.

"She probably did, but obviously they weren't important," Sherlock said and Mrs Hudson shook her head.

"And yes, Sherlock. I am going to make you," John said and Sherlock pouted. "You both don't have to be friends, but at least try to smooth things out between you two. Just so you don't hate each other."

"Fine... maybe I'll get free brownies then..." Sherlock grumbled.

🔎

Phoebe was just getting out of the shower when there was a knock at her door.

She half expected it to be John thanking her for the cookies since Sherlock wouldn't say thank you.

"Just a minute!" She called as she quickly slipped on her pajamas.

She went to the door and opened it to see Sherlock.

"Do you need something?" She tried to be polite to him.

"Um, I wanted to say thank you for the cookies," Sherlock said, remembering what John told him right before he came down to her flat.

"Oh, um, you're welcome," Phoebe said in shock.

"I was wondering if you would like to go out for dinner tomorrow night," Sherlock said and she knew something was up. "Maybe talk through some things."

"John sent you down here, didn't he?"

"Yup," Sherlock answered. "He's making me take you out tomorrow so we don't hate each other."

"Will you at least try to be a human if I say yes?" Phoebe asked and he hummed.

"I'll try my best, just so John and Mrs. Hudson stop bugging me about making friends," Sherlock said.

"We are not friends. I know that you don't do friends," Phoebe said as she crossed her arms. "Just this once?"

"Just this once," Sherlock confirmed.

"Deal," she agreed.