I really don't have a good explanation for being this late other than I just didn't have any drive to finish this. I knew what was going to happen but I just couldn't get it down into form. All of a sudden last night I had a spur of determination and wrote this whole thing at 2 in the morning. There might be a few mistakes, but I can deal with that.

Anyway, everyone who guessed for the riddle I thank you. There were so many good answers, and some of them were so close! Unfortunately, only one person was able to guess correctly, and I can't even give them a proper congrats because they reviewed as a guest. So whoever you are, congratulations!

Enjoy~

"Wait a minute..." (f/n) said softly, waving a hand in Sherlock's general direction. "Hang on...I-I think I've heard this one before. Try autobiography."

Sherlock gave her a hard stare, and after a moment complied with her suggestion.

'I would expect nothing less from the consulting detective."

Sherlock let out a breath that he forgotten he was holding. (f/n) let out a relieved sigh as the next message appeared. 'As I promised. The last part.'

'54'

'My part is done now.'

'Hope to see you soon.'

And with that, the memory card in the phone began smoking, a little spark shooting out every now and then as the memory card fried the inside of the phone. (f/n) froze, unable to do anything as she watched her mobile get killed. It stopped a minute later, and Sherlock looked to her, and saw pure fury in her eyes. She breathed heavily through her nose, as If she was about to scream , but instead turned on her heel and walked out. Sherlock counted out the seconds in would take her to get in the backyard, about 17, then heard a slightly muffled string of curses emanate from the yard. He nodded his head, that's what he was waiting for.

Sherlock glanced down at the blackened device, and sighed softly. At least they knew where the hacker was now. He walked slowly out of the room, only to pause by the trashcan to discard of the phone, and left the scene.

The pair met back up in the street as Sherlock waved down a cab. As the car pulled up, he opened his mouth to say something to (f/n) but was quickly interrupted. "I know what you're going to say and you don't need to say it. Just shut up and leave me alone until I calm down enough to tolerate you." She blatantly spoke, not making eye contact with the consulting detective as she got into the cab. "Let's just get this over with so we can go home."

Sherlock shut his mouth slowly, his mind reeling at the fact on how easily she was able to shut him up. He could simply speak out now, but that wouldn't end well, and the whole plan for the big case would be compromised. It wouldn't be good if she up and left. Sherlock decided to not take any chances for once in his life, and stayed silent the whole ride to 54 Finchley road. (f/n) was absolutely fuming; Sherlock could almost physically feel the tension in the air.

Not soon enough, the cab pulled up to the address, and the pair went to the door. Lestrade had followed them on the way there, and stayed back with Sherlock as (f/n) went ahead a few steps. "So what did you do to make her so pissed.?" The inspector asked, raising an eyebrow. "Some of those words I have never even heard of."

"Nothing of real importance. The memory chip that we used to get this address fried her mobile's insides."

Lestrade sucked in a breath. "Ooh you shouldn't have done that."

"It's not like it was my fault! How was I supposed to know that it was going to do that?" Sherlock retorted.

"Still."

Sherlock didn't spend anymore wasted time talking to Lestrade, instead he quickened his pace to catch up to (f/n) and walked next to her. He occasionally took a few glances in her direction, but mainly focused on the task at hand.

The house wasn't much different from the previous one. Although the main difference would be the amount of foliage overgrowth that surrounded the building. The windows were boarded up, except for the door, which those boards had been carelessly ripped off and thrown to the side. (f/n) gingerly pushed open the door, and stepped inside slowly. Sherlock followed close behind, almost too close for her comfort, but she made do.

Nothing made a sound. The slight creak from the house was the only thing, and even that was eerily quiet. (f/n) swallowed, her hands trembled slightly as she tried to give no notice. Sherlock however did, and- for some reason unknown to him- laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up, and he saw the fright in her eyes. It was the silence that was getting to her, and even if he tried to get her to go back to the car, it would be a waste of time and stealth. (f/n) relaxed the smallest bit, but it was enough to keep moving forward.

"I was wondering how soon you were going to show." A hoarse voice echoed through the house. "Right on time."

Sherlock pushed (f/n) behind him to stand back to back, scanning the dark room for any sign of another person. "Show yourself." Sherlock ordered.

The voice tsked. "Not right now. Eventually, probably. This is just to much fun." It said, then laughed a bit.

"Ugh. Utterly boring more like." Sherlock said to himself, earning a small smile from (f/n) and a gasp from the voice, who was now assumed to be Russell.

"I'm wounded. It's truly entertaining to see the famous consulting detective and his assistant."

"Excuse me?" (f/n) blurted out. "I am not his assistant. We are merely working as equals to solve a case. I'm just as smart as he."

"So there's two of you now? Lucky me."

Sherlock was getting fed up with these games. This case was all for naught, and it certainly didn't entertain him as much as it did Russell. He closed his eyes and listened closely for any tell-tale sign of the hackers location.

(f/n) meanwhile was keeping him busy with her arguments, spitting retorts back and forth while Sherlock did his thing. All of a sudden, the consulting detective grabbed her wrist and pulled her to follow him to a hallway, then into the second door on the left. He busted the door open with his shoulder, and walked into a man sitting at a desk with only a microphone and a laptop that was viewing the entrance room that the pair was just in. "Russell. There you are.." Sherlock said. "Time to go."

Russell just smirked, and chuckled. "On the contrary, Mr. Holmes. I'm sure you've figured me all out haven't you? That I'm a psychopath just trying to have some fun. Well, let me show you what's fun."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, and was taken by surprise when the other man jumped from his chair wielding a switchblade. The consulting detective blocked blow after blow, using his forearm to shield himself. (f/n) had been pushed out of danger by Sherlock backing up a few steps, and Russell seemed intent on harming Sherlock and not her.

Russell's move were quick. Much quicker than the normal person. None of his moved repeated, and Sherlock was getting backed into a corner. (f/n) looked around frantically for anything that she could use as a weapon against this foe, and went through every nook and cranny she could see. Eventually things were taking a turn for the worst, until she took drastic measures and ripped a board from one of the windows and brought it down hard on the back of Russell's head. He stopped for a moment, blinking, until he toppled over and was knocked out. (f/n) stood there breathing hard, clenching the board and her eyes wide with terror. Sherlock slowly walked over to her, and pried the wood from her fingers. She instinctively reached forward and latched onto the front of his coat, taking deep breaths as she tried to stop trembling.

Sherlock paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. He just stood there, and let (f/n) release his coat in her own time. By that time, Lestrade and the team had come in and collected Russell, shipping him off to court, and left the pair to themselves in the front yard. (f/n) was still hanging onto his coat, but not as tightly and only with a single hand now. Sherlock thought it was time to call a cab, and the pair headed back to baker street.

Once they arrived, the consulting detective put (f/n) in his, well...their, room to calm down, and left her alone. He assumed she would take a nap, and sleep off the stress that this day had caused her. What he did was try to figure out the situation with her. Why he felt like this. So he changed into some more comfortable clothes, donned his robe, and spent some of the time that she was sleeping in his mind palace, searching through the hallways for some help. The time that he wasn't there, he was busy trying to resolve the problem.

She woke to the sounds of the busy London streets, a much better situation than the one she had experienced before. (f/n) shuddered at the memory, feeling small to know that she had let her guard down like that. A stretch later, she get to her feet and back into the living room, and found Sherlock laying on the couch. Rolling her eyes, she went and made herself some comfort tea, and was headed back to the bedroom when something sleek caught her eye on the coffee table. She quietly walked over and picked up the object, which turned out to be a new mobile. "That's yours." Sherlock said suddenly. "I thought since yours got destroyed before..." He trailed off, his eyes open now and looking away from her.

She smiled softly. "Thanks Sherlock." She said, flipping the phone in her hand once then pocketing it. "I mean it."

He only grunted in response, and curled up even more. She walked over to the couch to lean over him. "Seriously. I'm not going to snap at you now" (f/n) tried to reassure him.

Again, only a grunt. She rolled her eyes once more at his stubbornness. "Can you at least tell me if you're okay. That switchblade skill was nasty."

"I'm fine." He answered sharply.

"You're sure?"

Sherlock stood quickly and turned to face her. "Yes. I'm sure." His eyes kept shifting away every once in a while.

(f/n) raised her eyebrows, knowing that answer wasn't completely true. "Sherlock?" She said threateningly.

A few moments of silence later, and he let out a breath. "The switchblade in question did land a few blows." He confessed.

"I knew it." (f/n) said with a smug grin. "And now, once you let me make sure that you are okay, I will leave you alone to continue, whatever it was you were doing."

The consulting detective groaned, but complied anyways, knowing her determination with things. She went and fetched the first aid kit to fix him up. Sherlock removed his robe and lifted the side of the shirt where the worst wound was. Most of the injuries sustained were shallow, and they had all scabbed over by now, but this side wound was a deep, direct hit, and was still bleeding slightly. "Ugh. Sherlock, you've got to take care of these things sooner. Your body isn't going to hold up to infections I know that." (f/n) spoke offhandedly.

"It wasn't important." He retorted.

"Yes it is important Sherlock, and if you don't see that by the time this case is over, so help me, I will personally help with your demise." He just rolled his eyes as she finished cleaning the wound and patched it up with some gauze and medical tape. "There. Now don't do anything stupid or you might open it again. I'm not sure how well I did, so have John take a look at it when he gets back. If you can remember to. I'm going to go back to my nap."

Sherlock grunted again, this now a normal thing for him to answer by. His eyes followed (f/n) until she was out of sight, and he sighed once the door closed. Sherlock flopped back down onto the sofa and draped an arm over his eyes, for once in his life confused about something.