Posted by John H. Watson

"What now?" I asked Sherlock, as we made our way out through the sliding doors of the hospital.

"Now we wait," he answered shortly.

"What for?"

"For the next robbery. There's a Napoleon at 6 Laburnum Villa. Chances are the thief will break in there tonight. Lestrade's meeting us at the flat. He texted – says he's got news for us, and I need to discuss the plan with you both anyway."

Lestrade was waiting for us outside when we arrived back at Baker Street. We made our way up to the living room. "Well?" Sherlock asked Lestrade, as I made him coffee.

"Well…I have traced the dead man – Pietro Vennuci."

"Good. I knew it was him."

"And I've found a motive for the crime. Apparently this Beppo and Vennuci were two of a gang, and Beppo gave them up. Most of the gang are still in prison, but Vennuci got out and tracked down Beppo to get his revenge. Beppo knew about this and was on the run, but Vennuci caught up with him and in the fight Beppo slit his throat. Bit of a disappointment really."

"There's just one tiny problem," said Sherlock, picking up his violin and sitting it on his knee.

"Which is what?"

"Where do the statues fit in?"

"Statues! Look, the statues are nothing – stop fixating on them! Vandalism, that's all."

"A man on the run who already has an extensive criminal record doesn't risk housebreaking without a good reason." Sherlock plucked a little tune as Lestrade spoke.

"Well you do what you like. I'm stationing the force outside his hostel tonight."

"You won't get him…" murmured Sherlock in a singsong voice, intent on his tune.

"And why's that?"

"Because tonight he's off to burgle number 6 Laburnum Villa. Don't worry, I warned the residents. The point is, go to the hostel and you'll definitely miss him. Come with us and I'll introduce you."

Lestrade stared at Sherlock, trying to think of a retort. Finally he gave up. "What time?"

"Meet us there at ten, and bring reinforcements. Meanwhile get some sleep. It'll be a long night."

Sherlock was edgy all afternoon, even though he kept telling me to get rest because of the long vigil ahead. He would pace around, gaze out of the window, play his violin in short bursts, snap at me when I tried to speak to him, and log on and off the internet. As for me, I surreptitiously continued my search for MJL using google. We left at half nine in the evening and took a cab to Laburnum Villa. Lestrade was waiting for us. "Are you sure about this?"

Sherlock nodded, staring at the house. "He'll go in at one of the windows," he said quietly. "We'll wait behind the adjoining hedge and when we see him go up the path and in we can sneak round and get him. But we might have to wait all night."

"Brilliant," grumbled Lestrade.

"Cold." I added.

"We'll have to be quiet," said Sherlock pointedly.

Two hours crept by. I took out my phone but Sherlock grabbed it from me and pocketed it before I could turn it on. I was going to whisper an angry protest, but he put his finger to his lips and glared at me. I folded my arms and tried to distract myself by thinking of clarinet pieces I knew. Eventually, Sherlock drew a short, sharp breath and I knew he had heard something. We all stood stock still, and soon we saw a figure vault over the gate and run across the lawn. We stole round silently, just in time to see him clambering in the downstairs window. "Right," said Lestrade, and we tiptoed up and hid behind the side of the house. A minute later the figure re-appeared, carrying the statue. He placed it on the step, directly under door-lamp and, picking up one of the stones that lined the garden path, brought it down upon the statue several times. We stole up behind him and Sherlock pounced. The man roared and flung him backwards with a blow to the face, but by then Lestrade's policemen had cornered off all the exits. I leapt forward and put the man in an arm lock while Sherlock pushed his wrists together, and Lestrade snapped handcuffs on him. By this time the couple who lived in the house had come out to investigate the commotion, and we all had a good look at our captive.

It was Beppo, without a doubt. He grown a beard since the picture had been taken, and his hair was a good deal longer, but the scar down his nose was unmistakable.

"You'll get no questions from me," he said, scowling at us.

"We'll see about that when you're up at the station," said one of the policemen, and with that they led him to the police car.

"We did everything you asked. Left the window unlocked and the door lamp on and everything," said the wife.

"You did very well," said Lestrade. When the policemen were out of earshot, he turned to Sherlock who was kneeling by the remains of the statue, examining the pieces as he had done before. "Ok, you were right," he said quietly.

"Sherlock, pinch the bridge of your nose and lean back," I told him, seeing blood dripping onto his coat and hands. "Come inside, have some refreshments and get cleaned up," suggested the husband. Sherlock looked up at Lestrade, the husband and me, and for once made no objection.

Sherlock kept forgetting to pinch the bridge of his nose and bend over the basin, as he explained how he knew Beppo would come to Laburnum Villa that night. "The only two remaining statues were the one here and another in Leeds. Since the thief was evidently based in London I predicted they would go for the nearer onefirst." He finished his tea and stood up. "Can we go now? It's not bleeding anymore. Much."

"Thanks again," I said to the couple as we left.

Standing on the pavement outside the house, Lestrade cleared his throat. "Well again I'm – I'm lost for words. Don't ask me to take the credit."

"Take the credit."

"No. It feels fraudulent."

"You identified the dead man and investigated the initial breakages. You organised the policemen around the house. You handcuffed the thief and you'll be the one questioning him. Take the credit, but not yet."

"Why not?"

"I contacted the owner of the sixth statue as soon as I knew where it was, and they've agreed to swap it for an identical one, courtesy of me. If all goes to plan they'll get it in the post tomorrow, and a colleague of mine will bring ours down for us to collect. Be at Baker Street three O'clock sharp tomorrow, and I'll make you the most highly regarded DI in the country."