A/N: Short chapter today. The Sherlock Holmes series belongs to ACD. The programme Sherlock belongs to Gatiss and Moffat.

The Viewpoint of Rebecca (The Babysitter)

Need you at 221b for tonight. You available? JW

Of course! I'll be over in 5! -Rebecca

I gotta say, it's pretty fun babysitting for Dr. John. His kid is freaking adorable. So cute. And he really is sweet. Sure, he's stubborn sometimes, especially when it comes to eating, but I manage pretty well.

So, I'm walking up to their flat when I see that there's some new guy in their window. Tall ginger guy. Kinda cute, actually. Oh, geez, he's spotted me. I smile and wave, to be nice. He's smiling right back and waving too!

As I get to the door, I'm about to knock, when the cute ginger guy opens the door for me.

"Hi! You must be Rebecca! John's told me about you. He's a little tied up with the other guest, so he couldn't get the door. Come on in!" he offers, and steps out of the doorway. I walk in and up the steps.

"So, since you know my name, what's yours?" I ask him as we go up.

"Michael Cabin. Mike for short. Pleasure to meet you!" he says. Did I mention he's cute?

"Nice to meet you, Mike!" I say as we get up to the "sitting room" as John calls it. I say "living room," but whatever. Potato, potahto. "Hello, Dr. John! You look sharp tonight!" I say. He seems a little confused at my comment. Eh, happens all the time. Americanisms and stuff. "You look nice."

"Oh! Thanks. He's upstairs, should be waking up soon. He should be eating in about five minutes or so. Oh, and the jars are on the left hand side of the third cupboard from the right. Don't grab the wrong one. Seriously," John warns me. He's told me a few times that his room- oops, flatmate is often doing experiments and is using old baby food jars to hold some sort of analysis on the degradation patterns of various fruits or something like that. Whatever it is, it should be left alone.

"Got it, Doctor!" I reply.

"Thanks. Oh, before we go, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade, Little Sherlock's godfather," he says, motioning to the other guest Mike was talking about. I've seen him on the news before, and he's the one John and Sherlock often do cases with. Kinda cool meeting him in person.

"Nice to meet you," I say, holding a hand out. He takes it and we shake.

"Likewise. Heard good things 'bout you."

"Likewise," I reply and we finish the gesture. John then puts on a suit coat.

"Well, we've got to get going. See you in a few hours," he says.

"Sure thing. Have fun! Nice meeting you two!" I say. John then stops and turns around.

"Two?"

"Yeah, the Detective Inspector, and Mike!" John then glares at Mike.

"What?" Mike says, giving a look that says "What'd I do?" Then I take a closer look at his face.

My God, I'm an idiot.

That's Sherlock. In disguise. I really wanna punch him for that. But I know if I do, John might never let me near this place again, so I try to keep my fist in check.

"Sherlock..." John starts, but then gives an exasperated sigh. "Look, Rebecca, I'll explain when we get back. Real sorry about that. Off out!" he finishes and the trio leaves. I watch from the window, and to my amazement, there's a limo. A freaking limo.

Where are they going, some movie premiere?

Well, there's my cue. The baby signal. Don't worry, Little Sherlock, Rebecca's here!

The Viewpoint of DI Greg Lestrade

Sherlock's actually laughing when we get in the limo. It's kinda creepy. Like seeing Batman laugh.

"Sherlock, come on! That was mean."

"Hehahahehehe! I was experimenting, John. Hahahehe!" Sherlock replies, trying hard to keep his composure as he speaks. Okay, scratch the previous statement, it's not like Batman laughing. More like the Joker. A baritone Joker. Creepy.

"On our babysitter, though?"

"Who better? She's met me before outside of this disguise. The fact that someone who knows me doesn't recognise me right off is a tremendous help," he explains, having calmed down considerably. He's got a point. John sees this too and slumps a bit in his seat, defeated.

"So, how'd you get this limo, anyway?" I ask.

"My brother," is all Sherlock says. I haven't actually met his brother in person before, but from what Sherlock tells me, the man's impossible (coming from him?) so having to ask him for a favor is probably pretty grating, so I leave it at that.

"And he's okay with driving us to the Crimson Lantern?" John inquires. Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"You really think that's him driving? Come now, John. You know how he hates 'legwork'," Sherlock emphasises, using air quotes on the word "legwork".

"So, how's this plan of yours going to work?"

"Easy. We go in, figure out what all I need to do, or rather, Mike needs to do to get into their gang, do it, and take it from there." He makes it sound so simple.

"But why have three of us go if you want them only paying attention to you?" I question.

"Simple, Lestrade. If one person enters a club, one would assume they're lonely and are there to get drunk. If two, they'd think they were dating, which, while all fine, would not help us get into the League. Three, however, is the perfect number. The leader, the wingman, and the designated driver," he explains.

"...But, we're in a limo," John adds.

"Oh, you get the idea. Besides, it's only a part we're playing," Sherlock affirms, a little put off.

"And where'd you get this idea? GQ? Cosmo?" I ask him, a bit worried about the actual answer.

"Google," he answers.

That'd do it.

We then come to a stop and I notice that every light around us is red. We're here. We step out of the limo, first John, then Sherlock- er, Mike- then me.

"So, chaps, ready for the show?" Mike asks.

"Just as long as you never sound so damn posh after tonight, yeah," I tell him under my breath. I look over at John. He looks miserable, grimacing like that. I grimace too.

Then again, when it comes to working with Sherlock, this is nothing too out of the ordinary.