3 hours earlier...

Sherlock had just gotten done taking a shower as he was still at Eve Campbell's flat. He had taken up staying there because he didn't want to miss out if she came back, but he knew she was smarter than that. She had been right in front of his face and he didn't even catch on. Sure she looked familiar but his own brain and thrill of the chase had betrayed him. He decided to pick apart her apartment over and over again, going through her computer, her mail, her clothes again just to pick up on something. But he found nothing. Nothing he didn't already know once again.

But the perfume had been a clue. Maybe not a clue but she covered it up well and erased her tracks. Rubbing his chin he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge before taking out a water bottle. All were Voss, and in glass containers. He uncorked the grey top and took a swig before walking back into the living area. He plopped himself down on the leather sofa and wiggled around before finding it comfortable. It wasn't his couch but it would do. He closed his eyes and envisioned Eve walking about this flat, dressed in a black silk robe...the very same that hung in her bathroom on a hook by the door. He imagined her fingers curling around a wine glass, the only one that was lying on the counter in the kitchen, lip marks on the brim. He then took a remote from the glass coffee table and raised it up before clicking a button and the surround sound stereo system started playing Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon...at least she had decent taste.

He tapped his foot in rhythm with the song and closed his eyes as he continued to think. Something, anything that would come up. His eyes then shot open as he got up and walked back into the bathroom and then looked at the silk robe hanging by the door. It looked brand new, there was cherry blossoms stitched onto it and reading the label it was Japanese. Nothing else in her attire was this brand...so why was it there. Taking it he went to her laptop and then searched finding a page bookmarked on the internet. A Japanese exhibit at the Pitt Rivers Museum and only an hour away in Oxford. He took his phone and called up John and then called for a cab. He was positive tonight was his night. Seventy two hours at best...and he had nailed it down to the wire at three. He was brilliant.

Present...

Eve was currently sitting in a giant glass case with priceless Samurai armor sitting before her. It was a new delivery and on exhibit and her client had paid her a large sum of money to obtain this relic of the past. It was simple really, she had already bagged most of it up off the mannequin and dropped the black duffle bags down the hole she climbed up from. She had plenty of time to escape and get herself to safety but she was waiting for the main event. He had been following her for three days now and it was becoming tiring and rather annoying. But he was the first one to ever come as close as he did.

Sherlock Holmes...she wanted to meet him in person. Even if a shatter proof glass was separating them. Sitting on a rise the swords had been placed on she crossed her legs and took a compact mirror out of her catsuit pocket and flipped it open before taking lip gloss out of another and gently and slowly began to primp and reapply the sticky goop that made her full lips pop a little extra. That's when the doors to the hall opened and in stepped the man himself. He had a flashlight and his ever little sidekick at his side.

Eve grinned as she snapped the compact shut and slid it along with the gloss into her utility belt and slowly stood as he approached her.

"Well, well, so we meet face to face." she said her voice sultry and warm. It wasn't the voice he expected from an American.

"So it would seem."

"Well...you almost caught me."

"Uh, you're trapped in a glass case." John pointed out and Eve laughed a bit before she raised a finger and tutted him for being so wrong.

"I'm right were I want to be dear Mr. Watson. Oh yes...I know who you are. Now Mr. Holmes...I advise you to not look for me any further after this. You're bad for business.

"You're needed to solve the murder case at the British Museum." he said plainly.

"Yes, I know. Unfortunate thing that happened to that poor man. But it does not concern me. I was at the right place at the wrong time."

"You must have some idea who those thieves are?" John interjected and Eve rolled her eyes rimmed black with eye liner.

"If I did, I would have informed the police by anonymous tip. Thugs...barely functional thugs. No class, no style, and absolutely no regard for life. I may be thief but I'm not a murderer. They aren't apart of any circle I associate myself with."

Sherlock took that bit of information and stored it away in his memory banks. She had given him a clue. Eve gave him one last look over before she walked up to the case and pressed her lips against the glass leaving a glossy lip print.

"Goodbye Sherlock Holmes. This game of cat and mouse has been fun." and with that she took a few careful steps back and jumped straight down the hole at the bottom of the case and disappeared. He smirked as he walked up to the case and looked down the hole. She most certainly had a flair to her and such class.

He was even more intrigued. And he didn't miss her emphasis on the words cat and mouse. She most definitely had been waiting there for him, he hadn't caught up to her at all. In reality the cat indeed led the mouse right to the cheese. He looked up at the lip gloss on the case and then tossed his phone to John who caught it clumsily.

"Call Lestrade...tell him there was a break in. And that we have some evidence."

"We do?"

"I need some materials." was all Sherlock said as he put his hands in his pockets and walked away.

After the police came which was a bit out of their jurisdiction, none the less he was able to get a team on it and obtain a swab of the lip gloss from the inside of the case after it had been opened and dusted for prints...which of course there were none. Sherlock then pocketed his prize and he and John made their way to St. Bart's to do some work. Molly let them in and she flit around Sherlock as always trying to be sweet and gain his attention. She brought them coffee and tried to make pleasant conversation while Sherlock picked apart the DNA and the lip gloss from the swab. After their relentless talking he looked up at them and huffed.

"Will you two shut up." he groaned and both looked at him, John more annoyed than anything.

"Come on Molly, let's go out for a bite eh?"

"Is there anything open at this time?"

"I'm sure we can find something." John said as he gently pat her shoulder. The two walked out leaving Sherlock to his peace and quiet and the detective returned to his work. When he was done he had picked apart the chemicals in the brand of lip gloss used. It was Beige Songe 216 of Dior Addict found at Harrods nearby. Not but a half hour from this very hospital. Probably the least expensive bit of make up the woman owned.

It was her telling him she thought he was cheap. That her appearance to him meant little and it would always mean little. He didn't like all these private messages she was sending him. It was a stab at his intellect.

But she was gone and thus the trail ran cold. And for the next month and a half he would obsess over the one that got away.