And a final chapter...
John pulled from his pocket a 'first edition' of The Poison Belt.
"They hope to make a killing on the rare book market, but as far as I could see, they're all the same." He grinned and nodded to Lestrade. "They're all yours, Greg."
Greg acknowledged him silently, and motioned his officers forward, radioing the team members at the front of the house to move in.
"Where's Sammy?" John turned to look at his flatmate.
"Hiding over there." Sherlock indicated the boy's hiding place. "He ran all the way back here to show us where you were."
"He's a good kid Sherlock."
"Yes he is." A rare smile crossed his features as the boy emerged from his hiding place.
"You okay Sammy?" John asked, casually looking the boy over for signs of injury.
"Okay." The boy nodded shyly.
"Of course he's okay John, and I'd bet he'd like nothing more than seeing this gang of idiots arrested."
Sammy's eyes lit up, and flanked by the detective and the doctor walked back to where the police had six inept forgers handcuffed.
"They didn't have a Scooby about what hit them!" said one young detective constable cryptically.
"Scooby?" Sherlock frowned
"Scooby doo – clue" Sammy explained softly.
"We'd have gotten away with it too," snarled the ringleader, "if it wasn't for that meddling boy!"