Lestrade led Sherlock, John, and Adara across the abandoned lot towards the crime scene. An abandoned silver car sat alone with the back popped open.

"There was a plane crash in Dusseldorf yesterday. Everyone dead." the inspector began, walking ahead of the trio while turning his head to talk to them.

"Suspected terrorist bomb. We do watch the news." Adara shot Sherlock a pointed glance of disagreement.

"John and I watch the news. You said 'Boring' and turned over." She countered. Lestrade smirked slightly as he gestured to the boot of the car where a body was lying inside. Sherlock instantly began bobbing around the car, looking at the body from different angles.

"Well, according to the flight details, this man was checked in on board. Inside his coat he's got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight, even one of those special biscuits. Here's his passport stamped in Berlin Airport. This man should have died in the plane crash in Germany yesterday but instead he's in a car boot in Southwark." Lestrade explained. Sherlock crouched by the boot and used his magnifying glass to examine the corpse.

"Lucky escape." John mused in surprise.

"Any ideas?" Lestrade inquired, looking at the group. Sherlock purses his lips and examines the man's hand.

"Eight so far…" he straightens up, frowning down at the body. Adara hummed in disagreement. Sherlock didn't look her way but narrowed his eyes in annoyance at the correction. His lip twitched irritably.

"Okay, four ideas…" He relented.

"Not quite." Adara insisted, holding out the passport and ticket stubs for him to read. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked skyward, ignoring John's amusement at the interaction.

"Maybe two ideas." Was his final, albeit reluctant, answer. Adara nodded.

"That's about right…..we're definitely missing some vital information." She mused.

...

...

Having exhausted their evidence at the scene, the group headed back to Baker Street. Sherlock was sporting heavy protective gloves and eyewear. In his hands he carried a blowtorch and a glass container of green liquid. He waltzed into the living room to look over John's latest blog entry titled 'Sherlock Holmes Baffled'.

"No, no, no. Don't mention the unsolved ones!" he protested indignantly, the green liquid sloshing around in the beaker.

"People want to know you're human." John insisted. Sherlock narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"Why?"

"Because they're interested."

"No, they're not…Why are they?" Sherlock inquired in rapid fire, his interest rapidly changing. John grinned secretly at his laptop.

"Look at that." He pointed to the read counter on the blog page reading 1895. Adara leaned over John's other shoulder to read what he had pointed out.

"One thousand, eight hundred and ninety five." She read off.

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock muttered.

"I re-set that counter last night. This blog has nearly two thousand hits in the last eight hours. This is your living, Sherlock…." The man preened.

"…Not two hundred different types of tobacco." At the last muttered comment Sherlock deflated in offense.

"Two hundred and forty-three." He countered petulantly. Firing up the blowtorch his set his safety glasses back onto his face before heading back into the kitchen to finish his experiment. John looked over his shoulder at Adara who was also trying to hide her grin.

"Don't worry. He'll get over it in about 5 minutes." She assured with a chuckle. Glancing up, Adara bolted towards the kitchen.

"Sherlock, not on the dining table!" she scolded, racing to prevent the inevitable disaster.

...

...

After closing another case the trio make their way across the theatre stage while police officers lingered nearby.

"So, what's this one? Belly Button Murders?" Sherlock mused; hands stuffed into his overcoat.

"The Navel Treatment?" John suggested. Sherlock grunted thoughtfully at the name.

"Well at least you're coming around to being written about." Adara mused.

"Not quite." He dismissed. Turning a corner backstage, Lestrade stepped into their group. They never broke stride as they approached the exit.

"There's a lot of press outside, guys." The inspector informed them.

"Well, they won't be interested in us." Sherlock dismissed. Lestrade tilted his head.

"Yeah, that was before you were in internet phenomenon. A couple of them specifically wanted photographs of you three." he countered pointedly. Adara hesitated while Sherlock whirled around on John in exasperation.

"For god's sake!" he snarled in annoyance. John merely shrugged, unbothered.

"A moment." Adara muttered, stepping into a dressing room with a large mirror. Reaching into her bag she pulled out some clear tape and used it to tighten up her eyes as well as shifting some of her facial features around just a bit. John watched her work curiously. Once she was satisfied with the changes, she spotted some costumes on hooks along the wall.

"Better safe than sorry boys. Not all press is good press." She warned perusing through the selection. John frowned, gesturing to his face as he observed hers.

"What's…..what's with the face changing….how did you even do that?" he sputtered. Adara smirked, the sight making him uncomfortable. It just didn't look right.

"Facial recognition deterrent." She hummed, shooting a silent look towards Lestrade. John got the message. No need to bring sensitive things up in front of the inspector. Sherlock scanned over the costume pieces near Adara and grabbed some haphazardly.

"John." He called, tossing a cap the man's way. Adara slung on a long overcoat that hid her entirely.

"Cover your face and walk fast." Sherlock instructed, herding John in front of him while he remained in front of Adara.

"This is still good for public image. A big case like this." Lestrade pointed out, confused as to what the big deal was.

"I'm a private detective. The last thing I need is a public image." Sherlock countered sternly. He slaps on a deerstalker cap, pulling it snuggly onto his head and flipping up his collar. Adara's lips quirk in amusement as she looks up at it.

"You know that whatever goes on your head may become a trademark. The first photos of Sherlock Holmes. Do you really want to try it with that hat?" she whispered. Sherlock scrunched his face up dismissively.

"No, it won't. No one cares." He insisted. Adara tilted her head in hesitant acquiescence. They would see. The trio geared up and tugged on their 'disguises' to hide as much as they could before stepping out into the flood of reporters. Sherlock used his body to shield Adara as much as he could while John and Lestrade trailed behind them. The lights from the photographers was rapid and blinding, capturing the brief moments before they disappeared into a cab.

...

...

Later that week Adara scanned over the newspapers with an amused grin, occasionally chuckling as she read over the different headlines above the photo of their outing.

'Hat-man and Robin: The web detectives'

'Sherlock Net 'Tec'

'Sherlock, John & Their Woman: Blogger Detectives'

'Sherlock Holmes: net phenomenon'

Sherlock sauntered into the living room, frowning as he heard her giggle behind a paper.

"What's funny?" he inquired skeptically. Lowering the paper, Adara shot him a look.

"Have you not read the news recently?" she offered the paper towards him. Sherlock rolled his eyes before taking it from her and scanning the headlines. Adara laughed at his vexed expression.

"I told you it might catch. You have to be camera ready." She teased. The man scowled in embarrassment and tossed the paper back at her. His phone pinged, indicating a new message. Sherlock whipped it out curiously.

"You told them?!" he snipped, flopping his hand against his leg while staring at the grinning woman on the couch.

"Of course not….but they do read the news." The man growled in annoyance as another message came through.

"Tell your brothers to stop texting me. It's vexing." Adara bit her lip in amusement.

"You know I can't control them. Perhaps this is a good thing…it means they like you." Sherlock glowered, his lip curling in distaste.

"Unlikely, judging by the new titles I have among them…oh look another stellar one." He mused dryly, reading the messages coming in. Adara's amusement dimmed slightly, knowing that despite his prickly appearance, he was still bothered by the same things as everyone else.

"Do you want me to say something?" she inquired seriously. Sherlock pursed his lips and shook his head resolutely. His fingers flew over the keys.

"No. I know what will shut them up." He muttered, his eyes taking on a devious glint. Moments after his message was sent, his phone ceased to ding. Straightening up and slipping his phone back into the jacket pocket he quirked his brows up proudly. Adara grinned.

"Now I can assure you that they like you. Not many are able to best them as a whole." She complimented. Nothing was said as Sherlock preened under her praise.

...

...

After coming back from grocery shopping Adara strolled up the stairs, rolling her eyes as she heard the usual bickering coming from the flat. Stepping inside she spotted Sherlock and John arguing over the blog while angrily gesturing at the laptop. With a sigh Adara silently reached forward and pulled the door shut, muffling the sound. Setting the bags down she walked back into the living room and grabbed a mug and a half full container of milk left on the mantle.

"You would think grown men could pick up after themselves." She muttered bitterly as she continued perusing to lost food items. Adara let her eyes roam over the table full of chemistry supplies in the center of the kitchen, making sure nothing hazardous was left unopen. Satisfied she pulled open the fridge and blanched at the smell.

"Good lord." Her nose wrinkled and she put the milk back where it belonged. Rummaging in search of the foul odor, Adara followed the smell towards one of the vegetable drawers. She rolled her eyes in annoyance as she lifted up a bag of what seemed to be thumbs.

"Sherlock! What did we say about leaving your body parts in the main fridge!" she shouted crossly through the apartment.

"The mini fridge was full!" the man countered from further in the flat.

"That's not my problem!" Whirling around to go find Sherlock, Adara startled as she came face to face with a large and wild eyed stranger.

"Can I help you?" she inquired curiously.

"The….the door was…..was…." was all that was whispered before the stranger promptly fainted before her.

"Boys! We have another one!" Kneeling down Adara set to waking the man up so they could find out what was wrong.

...

...

"Tell us everything from the start….Don't be boring." Was Sherlock's prompt once they got the man situated.

...

14 hours earlier the same man had been angrily trying to get his car to start along the side of the road. Out in the field adjacent to him stood another man who was quietly looking over the scenery. Their witness paid no mind to him as he was more focused on getting the old car to start up. Getting out of the car the large man leaned forward to fiddle under the hood. Not getting very far he sighed and turned around in frustration. His eye caught the man standing in the middle of the field….just staring ahead of him. With a confused frown the witness glanced but saw nothing else special going on. Maybe he was just enjoying the scenery. Sliding back into his car the man decided to give it one more try. Turning on the ignition he listed to the vehicle sputter before it backfired. Blowing out a breath of frustration he glanced back over at the field. This time something was different. The same man who had previously been standing out in the field was now lying on his back, unmoving.

"Hey are you ok?" The witness called out in concern. He got no answer. Heading down the slope of the hill he continued walking towards the downed man.

"Excuse me? Are you ok?" he called again. As he reached the stranger his heart leapt out of his chest. The man was lying dead with a pool of blood surrounding his head.