221B Baker Street

"Read it again."

"Tabitha Belov. Nikolas Breshnev. Dmitri Chekov. Victor Zarubin. Pasha Nevzerov…Sherlock, we've been through this nine times," John sighed, setting the list of names on the coffee table. "I mean, it makes sense. All of these people belonged to Rivstoy's faction, so Vladmir Anokhin wanted them dead."

"Hmm."

"So he killed them and framed Rivstoy. End of story."

"But the only murder that actually went out of his way to frame Rivstoy was the explosion, which killed Arthur Novikov himself. Who were the other two?"

"Um…Mikhail Losev and Samuel Dawson."

"Why did he want the murder of those three people pinned on Rivstoy?"

"Sherlock, you have the murderer. It doesn't matter why he did it, or who he framed…"

"Yes it does, John! It's inconsistent…we're missing something," Sherlock said, plucking the violin loudly in his lap.

"Maybe we should find him first."

"I can't find him if I don't know where he went and why he went there," Sherlock said, reaching into his pocket for his phone as it rang.

"I thought I told you eleven," Sherlock said, setting his violin back on the end table.

"Well, this couldn't wait until eleven."

"I doubt that."

"The Ministry of Defence sent agents down to headquarters."

"What?"

"The Ministry of Defence. They've been all over our files…they want to know more about this explosion."

"Which one are they interested in?"

"Which what?"

"Victims. Which one of the victims are they concerned with?"

"I don't know, they…they haven't told us anything."

"I need a name, Lestrade. Give me a name and I can solve this case."

"They keep mentioning Arthur Novikov…"

"Arthur Nov…thank you, Lestrade. You have no idea how much you've helped," Sherlock smiled, sliding the phone back into his pocket. John shook his head.

"You can't keep hanging up on…"

"It was Novikov! I can't believe I didn't see it before!" He shouted, turning to John.

"Arthur Novikov. Wasn't he…"

"The one who Vladmir Anokhin thought was a spy? He was a spy, in fact," Sherlock said, eyes gleaming. "An agent for the Ministry."

"So he was working undercover for the British government?"

"Exactly. Vladmir Anokhin found out and wanted revenge, so he killed two birds with one stone."

"What was the second bird?"

"He knew that the Ministry would be interested in the case as soon as they found out that one of their agents had been killed."

"And once the Ministry was involved, Anokhin knew that it would be impossible for Rivstoy to escape," John finished, shaking his head. "Brilliant."

"Ready?" Sherlock asked, reaching for his coat.

"For what?"

"The fun part."

"Sherlock, I've got…"

"We've got to catch Vladmir Anokhin," Sherlock said, tossing John his coat.

"We still don't know where he is."

"Yes, as a matter of fact…"

"I've got a date."

"What?"

"A date. It's what people do to…"

"How could that possibly be more important than catching a murderer?"

"Well, it's Sarah and I's first anniversary…"

"Oh God, not that anniversary business again," Sherlock muttered, adjusting his scarf.

"I promised Sarah that I'd…"

"You aren't even supposed to remember those!" Sherlock shouted, turning to face him. "You act like you're married to the woman!"

"I had to cancel our date yesterday because of you dragging me to Scotland Yard!" John said angrily.

"Well, you should've said something."

"That wouldn't have mattered to you and you know it."

"No, it wouldn't have. But that's not the point…"

"The point is that all you care about are your mysteries and your homicides and your science experiments!" John shouted as Sherlock glared back at him. "Can you possibly find room in your heart to care about anyone else? Just for once?" Sherlock paused, staring at John.

"Well, have fun then," he said bitterly, heading for the stairs.

"Sherlock, it's not your job to catch him. Tell Lestrade where to go, and he'll…"

"I finish what I start, John!" Sherlock shouted up the stairs before slamming the door behind him.