A/N:Sorry I forgot this in the other chapter! :^S got so caught up in it all I guess! Oops! so the other one would have said omething like:' didn't want to start this particuliar peice like this. I was going to start whith what the great man should start with: crime! but I'm still figuring this out and this poem was ready so... enjoy!' But that has nothing to do with this now! here it is! CRIME uploaded! YAY! it's all working out! well anyway, better stop before my note becomes as long as the story is! Enjoy! And please, please,PLEASE observe that large, empty box down there and take pitty on it by filling it up for me? Thank you! Read on!

Disclaimer: I own nothing BBC Sherlock, sigh. Nothing but my dreams and wishes that is!

A FIVE MINUTE PHONE CALL

"Mr. Holmes! I was not expecting you to come! I must say I love your work, and I'm ever so pleased to meet you. I'm-"

"Yes, yes. Don't bore me with such trivial things, please! Just show me where the napping happened."

The flustered worker flushed and fluttered ahead of John and Sherlock. John chuckled. Sherlock had never given anyone the opportunity to get out such a spiel before, John rethought that statement, no, he still hadn't. That girl could just talk! He silently commended her for getting as far as she had. Coming up on four large, empty cages the young woman began again.

"They were here last night. The pair of cockatiels and three macaws. Moe, Sally, Jen-"

Sherlock waved his hand nonchalantly but John could sense his frustration when he spoke, his voice hardening and turning ever more harsher, " I don't care of their names. I need the facts!" The girl jumped and stared open mouthed at the annoyed detective, a look of shock seemed permanently engraved on her face. John was about to break the silence and urge her on when an older lady strolled pleasantly out of the back room, dropping a phone in the pocket of her snug khakis. Lestrade, who till this point had been silently observing the whole ordeal, shook her hand as she approached , introducing himself as they walked over the short distance towards the small group.

"Hello, you must be the detectives."

John stuck his hand to her before Sherlock could scathe her with a sharp remark to her false accusation. " John Watson. And this is the only consulting detective in the world, Sherlock Holmes."

John felt Sherlock stand taller, swelling in pride at his self given title. Characteristically he ignored her outstretched hand, but surprised everyone with his next comment.

"I generally try to avoid shaking hands with a thief."

"I'm sure I don't ….." The senior employee looked momentarily at war with herself. John saw Sherlock smirk at her, daring her to deny it. After a moment she decided it wasn't worth it and gave in with a sigh. " Fine. How."

Sherlock swayed happily, as he always did when things came together. "Elementary. My dear Watson," John frowned hearing his name, looking at Sherlock questioningly. He never shared his victories, so what was he doing?

'Dear Lord, please don't let him ask me to do something too embarrassing!' John silently pleaded.
Sherlock gave John a smile, hopping it came out as encouraging and not malicious as it usually did.

"Let us show them the vantage points of that back room."

John's brows furrowed but he traced her path to the back room. He faintly heard Sherlock's baritone from his new position. " Now you can see that in that particular room, in that particular spot, one can only see you from few certain precise places in the shop." John could tell by Lestrade's moving head that his college was dodging about the other room. Demonstrating his point visually for the lost onlookers.

" But that tells me nothing, Mr. Holmes! What…. How…. Why…..?" The shrill, confused voice of the young worker stuttered out, commanding the attention of the whole room. Voicing their collective thoughts. Sherlock stilled again becoming conniving and quick with his tongue, he began, and never ceased in his banter.

"You mean, 'what in the world', ' how can you tell', 'why did she call then'? Yes, of course you do. I can see it. Dull child you are. The 'what' would be the theft of two cockatiels and three macaws, obviously. The 'how', quiet simply is: your fellow employee stayed behind last night, long after she had told you she left. You overlooked her when you did your final sweep of the animals before you clocked out early for the day, anxious to get to your date. Don't keep him, he's cheating on you." Ignoring the look of utter shock and unbelief , Sherlock continued. " After you left she snuck out, stole the birds, and dropped them with her accomplice in Hastings. She then returned to clean out the CCTV, and check for any telling marks she may have left. I would say you were very thorough, but then I would be lying. An idiot could see your mistakes, this place reeks of it. 'Escaping clean', you undoubtedly thought. Oh well! Oh yes, and the 'why', simply because she needed more money then this job could ever give her to sustain the drinking habits of her own boyfriend. And she called to inject herself into the investigation, because no one expects the culprit to call their own crime in , well no one except me."

With that Sherlock stopped his rant, his eyes dimmed some from the sharp intensity that they always adopted when he went on his deducing rampages. He looked around as though seeing the gathering onlookers for the first time. Taking a breath, he turned to face the huffing woman as Lestrade moved to take her under custody.

'Did I miss anything?"

The only response afforded him was a deep scowl and a turned up nose as the red face of the conformed thief disappeared into the back of the waiting police cruiser.

"Just for clarification, Sherlock, exactly what was it that tipped you off to all of this? What set you off?" Lestrade inquired hesitantly, shutting the door roughly behind her.

" A five minute phone call."