Sherlock and Joan remained at the brownstone for a little over a week, during which time he was relieved to notice a marked difference in her countenance. Whether it was because of the fact that they had so recently come up with a solution to the issue of the safety of their child, or the fact that she was surrounded by the infinite comfort and safety provided by the brownstone, he could not be certain. But part of him believed that it was a combination of the two. During that week Joan appeared calm and content, her eyes adopting a serene and peaceful expression which lit up her face. Her skin glowed and her smile returned which, combined with the return of her appetite, meant Joan's stay at the brownstone was a physically and emotionally nourishing one. Sherlock noticed that she appeared to have gained more weight in that single week than she had over the past month or so, and he was relieved.

Although Joan's stomach was still able to be concealed by her clothing, as well as the blankets she employed and her trademark red sweater, it was observed by them both that she would not be able to do so for much longer. She had been going to the precinct, observing interviews and working into the night, all without any of those close to her seeming to register their concerns or suspicions regarding her condition or her temporary absence. Gregson seemed to linger around them more, and his eyes would drift from Sherlock to Joan, as if trying to gauge their thoughts or intentions, but Sherlock put this down to his curiosity about the nature of their relationship. Nevertheless, after a week of recuperation, in which time Joan's condition was becoming more difficult to conceal and the search for Maria Lennard had maintained its stagnation, the partners decided that it was time to return to the safe house he first took her to. They travelled to the library in the early hours on a cold, autumnal evening, where Joan remained for the next month, continuing to work on the case from her place of safety, as Sherlock immersed himself in the criminal underworld of the city to pursue the individual who posed a mortal risk to the lives of his partner and their child.

Joan had just entered the thirty-second week of her pregnancy, which she was still attempting to conceal using loose-fitting clothing and seasonal jumpers. As her pregnancy had progressed over the past month, she had decreased the time she spent at the precinct or in the company of the NYPD. The increased media attention that Lennard's escape had caused seemed to grow with each day that passed with no leads on her current whereabouts, and the crux of this attention was centred upon the precinct. The chances of her being photographed or filmed were high, due to her relationship to the case and to the woman herself, which meant that the chances of her pregnancy being revealed to not only the precinct but the nation, were exponential. Therefore, Joan remained within the safe confined of the library, surrounded by boards filled with information, pictures, case files, CCTV footage and several computer screens. Her rooms were beginning to bear a striking similarity to the brownstone which, as Sherlock correctly deduced, provided her with the comfort she required to remain there for so long. As usual, Joan had been pursuing leads relating to the person who had assisted Maria Lennard in her escape, and her work had not been in vain. Over the past month Joan had gained CCTV footage from various buildings and combined it with traffic cameras, and was able to trace the route of the car driven by Lennard's assistant/captor. Although this provided the police with something more to go on, the true breakthrough came shortly after Joan had spent the four weeks at the library, when one of the previously comatose police officers following Lennard's car regained consciousness.

Upon hearing the news of Officer Oliver Reynolds regaining consciousness, Gregson and Bell drove straight to the hospital, interviewing the man in the few minutes he had before losing consciousness once more. More progress was made in those few minutes than in the past two months since Lennard's disappearance, and the phone call Gregson made to Holmes afterwards would be the one which led to the identification of the person in question. But not without consequences.

Sherlock hung up the phone and emerged from the bookcases in the library, making his way towards Joan, who was sitting at a table a few seats away from Alfredo. She looked up at him in acknowledgement as he approached, placing her pen on the table as he stood before her.

"That was the Captain" Sherlock began, causing Alfredo to look up from his laptop. Their associate's attention had been devoted to the new security system he was constructing for a six-figure sum, but his eyes willingly left the laptop when he noticed the tone of Sherlock's voice. "They were able to interview Officer Reynolds for several minutes before he fell unconscious again. But in that time, the young officer revealed something that we were unaware of before, and that could alter this entirely" he continued, as Joan shifted slightly in her seat towards him. "The person who helped Maria Lennard escape was, according to Reynolds, a woman."

Joan and Alfredo were silent for several moments, as Joan thought over the details of the case once more, trying to consider a woman related to the events who would wish to assist or harm Lennard.

"Is he sure?" Joan asked.

"Quite" replied Sherlock, nodding vigorously in response. "He said that he noticed her long hair from beneath the mask she wore. He also said that, as she pulled Lennard from the car, one of her gloves slipped from her hand, revealing red manicured nails." He continued in a low tone.

"So who do you guys know who has long hair, manicured nails and a motive to get Maria Lennard outta that car?" Alfredo asked, pushing the screen of his laptop down to it closed shut with a click. There was a few seconds of temporary silence, before Joan leaned back in her chair slightly and crossed her arms across her chest.

"The person who had the most to lose from the trial going forward, and details made public" Joan mumbled. Sherlock nodded in agreement, taking a few steps forward and sitting himself in the chair besides Joan, who considered to speak as he did so. "Greta Mathers."

"What?" Alfredo asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "Why would she kidnap Lennard?"

"She wouldn't" Sherlock answered coolly. "As a point of fact, she didn't. What she did, actually, was quite ingenious. In a sense, it's what she always did with Maria Lennard."

"What's that?" Alfredo asked, feeling himself growing increasingly more perplexed.

"She utilised her" Joan answered, turning towards him as she spoke. "She needed to prevent Maria from ever taking to the stand and testifying about the nature of their relationship. She feared the scandal of having had an affair with a PA, especially one who then went on to kill several women because of how she treated her, would ruin her. Her company, her reputation, her life. So she feigned allegiance to us, told us she'd cooperate and testify against Lennard, to buy herself enough time to come up with a plan to silence her."

"But she already made a statement, the information's out" Alfredo countered.

"The statements she made cannot be verified if the trial does not progress. And if the trial does not progress, the information and evidence revealed within the courtroom will never be released" said Sherlock.

"I still don't get it" Alfredo responded, placing his open-palmed hand on the table as he spoke. "If they had some kinda arrangement like that, if Greta Mathers was intent on stopping the case going forward, why didn't she just kill Maria? It would have been easy to do at the crash site. After the kidnapper pistol-whipped that agent, Maria was defenceless. Why not shoot her?"

"Because she needed her" Joan mumbled. "To kill her husband."

"What?" Alfredo asked.

"Whilst I've been here I've looked into the people closest to the case, in order to try to find out who the kidnapper was, and who the next targets of Maria Lennard could be" Joan explained. "In doing so, I briefly looked into Greta Mathers. When she and her husband married, he was a successful businessman in his own right, and she was an up and coming associate within his company. Before they married they drew up a contract stipulating what would happen if they were to divorce. The agreement stated that if divorce proceedings were bought about on the grounds of infidelity, the offending party would not be entitled to the earnings or assets of the other. As well as that, fifty per cent of the cheater's assets would be surrendered to the spouse" she stated, as Sherlock and Alfredo watched her with interest. "If the details of the trial went public, and he found out the exact nature of his wife's infidelity, she stood to lose a considerable amount of money, as well as her reputation. Apparently, Greta suggested it, due to the fact that her husband cheated on her in the early stages of her relationship."

"So you think she helped Maria in return for what? Her promising to kill her husband?" Alfredo asked in a low tone. "Why would she do that?"

"She never thought the kidnapping of Maria could be linked back to her" Sherlock explained. "She certainly didn't think that anyone would link her, the woman who was attacked by Maria on two occasions, would have anything to do with her kidnapping. By having Maria kill her husband, Greta Mathers was, essentially, solidifying her position as victim. She would be the woman whose indiscretions resulted in two attempts on her life and the death of her husband. She would keep her assets and his, halt the trial, and attain her reputation."

"The only thing we don't know is what happened to Maria afterwards. She killed Greta's husband seven weeks ago, and has not reappeared since. There have been sightings, sure, but none that have been proved conclusive" Joan countered. "It's unlikely that Greta would just let her go."

"You think she killed her?" Alfredo asked.

"If she had, we would have found her body by now" Sherlock replied. "Greta would want it to be over quickly, having the shadow of Maria's evasion of capture hanging over her is not beneficial. If she killed her, she would have made a point of having her body discovered quickly."

"So what does that mean?" Alfredo asked.

"It means that she is not done yet" Sherlock replied, turning to Alfredo as he spoke. "I don't know when Greta suggested this plan to her, or what the specific terms of it were. But it is clear that, whatever they agreed, there is still something to be done." There was a temporary silence in the room for several moments, before Sherlock removed his phone from his pocket and began scrolling through his contacts list.

"So what happens now?" asked Alfredo, as Sherlock stood from the table and held his phone to his ear.

"I am going to call Captain Gregson and interview Ms Mathers" he replied. "I would like you to remain here with Watson, and inform me of anything suspicious, anything concerning."

"You think we could be part of her plan?" Joan asked.

"I don't think we can afford to rule it out" Sherlock returned, meeting her eyes with a reassuring look, before turning on the spot. "Captain" he spoke into his phone, as he walked through the library and out of the building. Joan remained seated for a few minutes, her hands resting in her lap, as she sat in a calm, reflective silence. Alfredo watched her for a few moments, his eyes glancing cautiously across her. Something was up.

"You alright?" he asked gently, causing her to look up instantly.

"Of course" she returned, offering him a small smile. "I've been working at this for a while, I'm tired. I'm gonna go lie down in the back. Come get me if you need me, alright?"

"Sure" he said gently, watching her as she stood. Over the past couple of weeks he had noticed something different about her, something he couldn't describe. It was something to do with the way she stood, or got up from chairs, and walked across the room. At first he thought he was being paranoid, that his close proximity with Sherlock Holmes over the past few months was 'rubbing off on him'. But there was definitely something different about Joan Watson. The way she wrapped her clothes around her before standing, easing herself slowly from her seat and walking across the room. It was like she was uncomfortable, maybe. Like getting up from the seat was difficult. For a moment he wondered whether she was sick, or injured. But if she was, he would have noticed. And if she was, she would have told Holmes, right? No. She was a doctor, if she was ill she'd treat herself, and she wouldn't want to worry her partner. Maybe that's why she's heading off to her room Alfredo thought, leaning back reflectively in his seat. She could be hurt.

Alfredo thought for a few moments, before his concern for the woman he had sworn to protect overwhelmed him. He pushed himself from his seat and walked slowly and quietly across the library, until he came to the half-open door of the room where Joan often slept. He was about to knock on the door, when he noticed movement inside. Joan had her phone in her hand and was walking from one side of the small space to the other. Alfredo heard the rustling of material, before seeing her jumper fall to the ground. Joan turned on the spot, taking a few steps past the door and towards the bed. As she did so, Alfredo caught a glimpse of her profile, and his eyes widened in amazement. Beneath her jumper she was wearing a tight-fitting, long-sleeved black shirt with a white collar. As she walked past him, he saw the clear outline of her stomach, which revealed her condition. As he pushed himself away from the door and pressed himself against the wall to the side, his mind raced with memories of the past few months, symptoms of her condition, signs he had missed. Somehow, all at once, everything made sense. The reason for Joan's protection, her removing herself from the physical aspects of their work, and even from the public sphere. She was pregnant. Alfredo found himself feeling a slight pang of hurt, that she had not told him about her baby sooner. But he soon moved past this, and found himself wondering whether Sherlock knew. He must do, right? It's not the kinda thing that guy'd miss Alfredo reasoned. Before he could continue his thought process further, he heard Joan sit upon the bed, and the sound of a dialling tone drifted towards him. After a few seconds Joan took in a deep breath, adjusting herself on the bed, before addressing the person on the other end of the phone. "Mum" she breathed, attempting to sound composed. She almost did, too. "No, no, I'm fine. Everything's fine" she soothed, as Alfredo began to push himself away from the wall. Somehow it felt like too much of an intrusion. Instead, he made his way back to their tables, flipped the top of his laptop up, and continued to work. She'll tell me when she's ready he reasoned, casting his eyes upwards as he typed. But judging by her stomach, she's running out of time.

Sherlock arrived at the precinct ten minutes after hanging up on Gregson, having made several phone calls in the taxi on the way to the precinct. He headed straight to the older man's office, informed him of his and Joan's theory, and suggested that they pay Greta Mathers a visit together. Gregson agreed, and they left immediately.

Greta had been staying at the apartment she once shared with her husband, and appeared marginally surprised to see the two familiar colleagues outside her door.

"Captain Gregson, Mr Holmes" she began caustically, crossing her arms across her chest as she spoke. "What do you want?"

"A few moments of your time, Ms Mathers" Sherlock returned, tilting back slightly on the spot as he spoke. "If you would be so kind."

"Why?" she returned, brushing her hair aside with a freshly manicured hand. "After everything that has happened, why would I allow you access to my home?"

"That's a lovely shade of nail polish, Ms Mathers" Sherlock stated, watching as the woman's angry eyes moved to hands for a moment, before crossing them across her chest. "What is it? Blood red?"

"I'm sorry?" she countered.

"Not the least of the blood on your hands, I'd imagine" he returned. "In fact, that is what we have come to discuss."

"I don't understand" she declared, turning her attention to Captain Gregson. "What is this man talking about?"

"Ms Mathers, we believe we have some information regarding the escape of Maria Lennard, and the death of your husband. May we come in?" Greta hesitated, and for a moment Sherlock felt certain that she was about to close the door on them both.

"Certainly" she began, holding the door open and standing to the side. "Won't you come in?" she continued, staring at Sherlock as he walked past her.

Captain Gregson sat himself at the seat offered to him by Greta Mathers, whilst Sherlock insisted on remaining standing, fixing his position in the centre of the large window which overlooked the city.

"Quite a view, Ms Mathers" he began, facing it with clasped hands behind his back. "But was it really worth killing for?" he asked, turning to face her.

"Excuse me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in feigned indignation.

"We know, Ms Mathers" Gregson began, causing her to turn slightly and face him. "We know that you orchestrated Maria Lennard's escape. That you helped her in exchange for murdering your husband."

"That absurd" she spat, pouring herself a glass of wine from the table and holding it to her lips.

"Many would agree with you" Sherlock stated, causing her to remove the glass from her lips and stare at him with a wary yet threatening expression. "Why would a woman seek out the unstable serial killer who made two attempts on her life, and whose entire criminal actions are down to her?" Sherlock asked, watching as Greta's eyes drifted wearily down to her wine glass as she took another sip. "You had a problem, did you not? Your husband had long since become a burden to you, but divorcing him was out of the question. He would never have consented, and it would have been counter-productive, considering your company is funded almost exclusively by his" he began, watching as Greta shook her head slowly in response. "And then you had the issue of Maria Lennard herself. You feared that her explosive testimony would lead to your ruin, personally, professionally and financially. So you devised a plan to remove the two things that threatened your financial and business well-being. You told Maria that you would help her to escape in return for killing your husband. She would have been overjoyed, would she not? Her former lover coming back to her, and asking her to remove the only obstacle between you both?"

"You're wrong" she said simply, placing the glass upon the table.

"Is that what you spoke about when you visited her in prison?" he asked simply, causing her hand to freeze on the wine glance for a moment, before she recovered herself.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Earlier today I made a few phone calls to the various prisons which housed Ms Lennard during her pre-trial incarceration. One week before her escape, she was visited by a woman, who signed in using a false name" he stated, watching her as she spoke. "Incidentally, the day you visited her was the day after the trial date was finalised. The same day that you orchestrated her escape."

"That's ridiculous." She seethed.

"You had to do it by yourself, of course" Sherlock continued, walking across the room as he continued to ignore her statements of innocence. "The kidnapping itself. You couldn't risk having anyone else involved, they would be bound to you forever. So how did you achieve her compliance, hm? Offering her freedom alone would not be enough. What was it?" He asked, getting closer to her as he spoke. "What did you offer her that she simply could not refuse? And what other loose ends is she yet to tie up?"

"Loose ends?" She repeated simply, her eyes wide and her face devoid of expression.

"The only reason you would not have killed her is if there is some other task she is charged with completing. Something which she has not, for reasons only known to you and her, achieved in the past seven weeks since your husband's assassination" he stated, staring at her as he spoke. "So what is it, Greta? What else is it that you wish her to do?" There was a small silence which passed between them for a few moments, as Greta stared at him hard.

"I don't know what you're talking about" she mumbled, reaching for the glass once more. "And I would like you both to leave." Before Gregson had a chance to protest, Sherlock began to speak.

"Certainly" he stated, walking past her and heading straight for the door, causing Gregson to stand up immediately amongst the confusion. "We will leave you to mull things over. But I suggest that you contact us quickly with the information we require" he began, turning back to face her as he opened the door. "Despite your apparent allegiance with her, Maria Lennard is a dangerous young woman, and you are far from safe, regardless of whatever it is that exists between you." Greta stared at him as he spoke, her expression as unreadable as ever, as she rose the glass slowly to her lips and took a tentative sip. Sherlock held the door open for Gregson, and they headed down the corridor and towards the elevator, before leaving the building.

"What was all that about?" Gregson asked as they descended the steps and reached the pavement. "Leavin' before we even got started."

"It was quite clear that Ms Mathers did not intend on revealing the truth to us, I did not suspect that she would" Sherlock stated, turning towards Gregson as he spoke. "The point of our little rendezvous was simple. To make her aware of the fact that we know the truth. Now, I suggest that you have her calls monitored, and enlist some of your officers to follow her. She must be under surveillance 24-7. If she is still in contact with Maria Lennard, which I feel certain that she will be, I would wager that they will be contacting each other presently, given our meeting."

"Right" said Gregson, reaching into his pocket and removing his phone. "That was your idea all along, was it?"

"Yes" began Sherlock, taking a cursory step forward and glancing down the street, glancing down the road for a taxi.

"Are you coming back to the precinct?" Gregson asked, after issuing his instructions to his sergeant.

"Not presently, no" Sherlock returned. "My attentions are required elsewhere".

"You mean with Miss Watson" Gregson stated, in a curious tone which instantly gained Sherlock's attention, causing the consulting detective to turn and face the Captain directly, watching him with a quizzical expression. "Look, I... I know that we talked about it a while ago, when I urged you to be careful, due to the difficult time she's had over the past year."

"As memory serves Captain, you talked much more than I upon the subject" he stated, looking at Gregson with a confused expression. "A subject which, until just now, you have not spoken of

or even alluded to in the past eight months" he stated. "So why mention it now?"

Gregson watched Sherlock for several moments, his keen and trained eyes running over the face of the man he felt certain was hiding something, he just didn't know what. Sherlock's odd behaviour, his increased time spent away from the precinct and the cases Gregson offered him, as well as Miss Watson's apparent disappearance from her usual routines and haunts, whilst understandable, was highly unusual. Miss Watson was not reckless, she would not place herself in unnecessary danger, but nor was she the type to assent so easily to being kept hidden from the world. All of Gregson's training, skills and intuition were telling him that something was off. And he wanted to know what it was.

"Holmes, is there something I need to know about?" he asked gently, taking a step towards the consulting detective, who continued to watch him with a way expression.

Before Sherlock could react to his question, the sounds of passing cars, chattering pedestrians and gentle rain was interrupted by the firing of a single bullet.