Sherlock rushed over to his bookcase, muttering: "Tramway." He stood staring at his books frantically as he searched for something with his eyes. Rose looked at him in surprise, as he seemed to have lost the ability to think clearly for just that moment.

He finally grabbed the map of London, and Rose cleared the desk a little so that he could lay the map flat. He threw it on the desk and he scanned it quickly, before he pointed as he breathed: "There." He turned and ran, Rose right behind him.

"Sherlock, you need to be calm." Rose warned as they climbed into a cab and he snapped: "I am calm." "No, you aren't." She pointed out and he grit his teeth. "You won't be much use if you can't use that brain of yours clearly." She added and he took deep breaths as they waited anxiously for the cab to arrive.

They finally stopped at the rendezvous point, and Sherlock gestured for her to be quiet. They snuck in quietly and carefully, and as they approached the group in the center of the tunnel, Rose spotted Sarah, gagged and tied to a chair, right before the crossbow from the circus show. The sandbag had been split and the weight was steadily dropping towards the trigger while Sarah struggled in vain and whimpered in terror.

John was tied to a chair and he was sporting a bloody wound on the side of his head- most likely from where they'd hit to knock out before they dragged him here. John was trying desperately to get free and trying to reason with the woman standing before him.

Rose recognized her from the show; apparently she was the leader of this group and for some reason thought John was Sherlock. Sherlock urged Rose to stay put behind a barrel and she did as she was told while he stepped closer quietly.

The woman was saying as she motioned to the crossbow: "You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends." John shouted frantically and desperately: "I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"

The woman scoffed: "I don't believe you." And Sherlock called as he stepped out enough that only his shadow was visible at the far side of the tunnel: "You should, you know." The woman spun as he continued: "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him." He disappeared into the darkness as the woman cocked her pistol at him, while one of the Chinese thugs hurried towards where he'd disappeared.

Sherlock called from the shadows: "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?" John muttered: "Late?" Rose suppressed a smile while Sherlock continued, addressing the gang leader: "That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second."

Rose was impressed with his knowledge while the woman snapped: "Well?" Sherlock replied: "Well ..." He stepped out and whacked the thug who'd come near with a metal pipe, causing him to collapse, unconscious.

He disappeared back into the darkness as he continued rapidly: "... the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."

Rose saw the woman hesitate and Sherlock dashed out, kicking a burning trashcan over. It pettered out, throwing more of the tunnel into darkness and Rose used the cover to start moving closer, heading towards John and Sarah.

She was just nearing them when she saw Sherlock near Sarah, starting to untie the woman's bonds. Rose's eyes widened at this display of emotion from Sherlock- he cared enough to try save the woman even though it might cost him.

And sure enough it did: before he could finish untying Sarah, one man saw him and rushed Sherlock. He looped a long red scarf around Sherlock's neck, choking him and pulling him away from Sarah. The two continued to struggle, and John began to stagger forward, trying to reach Sarah before the arrow flew at her.

But as he tried to move, John fell over, and he resorted to crawling over as the weight lowered ever closer down. And Rose could see that neither man was going to make it in time. In that split-second before the weight could touch the crossbow, she made her decision.

Rose dashed out and grabbed Sarah, swinging her down just as John kicked the crossbow, turning its aim away. It released and hit the man choking Sherlock. The man gasped as the arrow pierced his chest and Rose turned to see it was the acrobat- Zhi zhu. She watched as he collapsed, the life going out of his eyes.

Sherlock removed the cloth on his neck, still gasping when they heard footsteps running away. He turned sharply towards the sound and Rose glanced to see the receding shadow of the woman whom Sherlock would later explain was General Shan- the leader of the Black Lotus Tong, the Chinese crime syndicate.

Rose turned away and silently began to help Sarah out of her bonds as the older woman gasped in fear, her eyes shining with tears. Sherlock turned at the sound, and he moved to help Rose, murmuring softly to the distraught woman: "It's alright."

John was struggling on the ground but Sherlock focused on the whimpering woman as he soothed: "You're gonna be alright. It's over now. It's over." He removed her gag as Rose removed the last of her bonds.

Sarah began to sob and Rose hugged the woman tightly. Sherlock moved to John and Sarah looked over at John over Rose's shoulder as she clutched the younger woman for comfort. John tried a smile and he joked half-heartedly: "Don't worry. Next date won't be like this."

Sarah sobbed into Rose as Sherlock untied John, glancing over his shoulder at where Shan had disappeared, looking almost wistful. Rose just silently held the woman, giving her the warmth and comfort she needed.

When the police arrived, the four walked out at last. Sarah was wrapped firmly in a blanket while John hugged her, and Rose walked beside Sherlock. The consulting detective kept glancing concernedly at the girl from the corner of his eye, but he didn't say anything.

They spotted Dimmock standing by a police car, and Sherlock and Rose let John and Sarah walk ahead as the former pair stopped to face the DI. Sherlock said quietly as Rose waited for him: "We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report."

"Mr Holmes-" Dimmock began, but Sherlock cut in as he said derisively: "I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career." Dimmock paused before he replied in defeat: "I go where you point me."

Sherlock turned, walking away with Rose beside him as he replied: "Exactly." Dimmock just watched them ruefully as the consulting detective and the mysterious girl disappeared down the street.

As they walked out of hearing distance from the DI, Sherlock glanced at Rose and he murmured: "Are you alright?" She glanced at him in surprise. "Hmm?" She asked and he clarified: "You did just see a man die and your friends almost murdered."

She thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged as she said: "Yes, but he was a killer. He needed to be stopped and John, Sarah, and you are all safe now." Sherlock stopped walking abruptly and she paused as well, looking up at him curiously. He appeared stunned as he stared at her.

"You… you consider me a friend?" He asked in disbelief. Rose realized what was the matter and she smiled, almost ruefully. "I hated you when we first met." She informed him and he nodded stiffly. "And you're still rude." She added and he frowned as he muttered: "Fine, yes."

Rose softened as she said: "But yes… I think of you as a friend. Nothing like trauma to help strengthen a bond, right?" She teased and Sherlock stared at her in surprise. "I suppose…" he murmured as she turned and walked off. He followed, and his heart suddenly felt a little lighter. But Rose's face, hidden in the shadows for a moment, darkened just a little.


Sherlock explained about the code and the message to John the next morning while Rose slept in, exhausted from the trials the previous few days. As soon as he was done, he and John went back to the bank. John went to explain to Sebastian what Sherlock had solved, and also get their reward.

Sherlock meanwhile went to deliver the stunning news to Van Coon's secretary. They read about the story in the papers the morning after, and Sherlock almost groaned at the title: 'Who wants to be a million-hair'.

John mused as Sherlock folded the papers in disgust: "Over a thousand years old and it's sitting on her bedside table every night." Sherlock muttered: "He didn't know its value; didn't know why they were chasing him.

John jested: "Hmm. Should've just got her a lucky cat." Sherlock smiled briefly but then looked away. His eyes unfocused and he became lost in thought. John saw it and he sighed.

"You mind, don't you?" John asked, and Sherlock looked at him, asking: "What?" John clarified: "That she escaped – General Shan. It's not enough that we got her two henchmen." Sherlock sighed as he said: "It must be a vast network, John; thousands of operatives. You and I, we barely scratched the surface."

John pointed out, trying to comfort his friend: "You cracked the code, though, Sherlock; and maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it." Sherlock shook his head as he said softly: "No. No. I cracked this code; all the smugglers have to do is pick up another book." He unfurled the paper again, disappearing behind it to read.

They sat in silence for a moment before Sherlock suddenly asked: "Where's Rose?" John looked at him in surprise but his face was hidden behind the papers. "Sorry?" John asked, not believing what he'd just heard.

"Haven't seen her since we got back." Sherlock said lightly but John grinned. "Since when did you care?" John asked, almost teasing and Sherlock retorted sharply: "I don't." "Right…" John said amused.

Sherlock waited before he finally snapped and asked: "Well?" John grinned and he shrugged: "She was tired yesterday so she slept in. Can't blame her, she needs it with her job at Bart's as well. And today, she had work so she's gone out. Went out before you got up, actually."

Sherlock nodded. John watched his friend, a new idea forming. It seemed impossible… and yet Rose had done the impossible. She had proven Sherlock wrong. He grinned and decided he'd just watch quietly but somehow he knew he was in for an entertaining show.

Sherlock's mind, meanwhile, was racing. The woman had proved him wrong- she'd been an intellect like him and he hadn't seen it. How was that possible? It wasn't even like she was trying to hide it, clearly, since she'd displayed it readily enough once he'd stopped dismissing her. But even when he knew that, he couldn't read anything more off of her.

He recalled the long blonde hair, obviously dyed as he'd seen hints of a dark brown in her roots, and he remembered her green eyes glinting like emeralds as they shone with intelligence that he had somehow missed when he'd first met her. Why? Who are you, Rosanne Jones? Sherlock wondered.


Somewhere far away, Shan sat before a desk, staring at the computer that was sitting on it. She was communicating through a video camera, but her contact was faceless and voiceless as he simply typed his responses along with a single initial: 'M'.

Shan said carefully and gratefully: "Without you – without your assistance – we would not have found passage into London. You have my thanks." There was a pause before the written response came: "M: GRATITUDE IS MEANINGLESS. IT IS ONLY THE EXPECTATION OF FURTHER FAVOURS"

Shan pleaded softly: "We did not anticipate ... we did not know this man would come. This Sherlock Holmes. And now your safety is compromised." She added concernedly, her brows furrowing in worry.

The reply came: "M: THEY CANNOT TRACE THIS BACK TO ME" Shan said sincerely but with a hint of fear: "I will not reveal your identity." There was a pause and then the reply came: "M: I AM CERTAIN."

A single, red light- a rifle's laser sight- appeared in the center of her forehead as her face fell. Shan slowly looked up and stared at the masked assassin standing on the rooftop of the building opposite. She gazed into the only part of the assassin that was visible, bright eyes above the mask wrapped firmly around the sniper's nose and mouth, and Shan pleaded softly: "Please."

A single shot rang out, and there was the sound of shattering glass. And the thump of a body as it slumped over- dead.