Dylan came home early from her morning class the next day. It had been a funny class, the students were asked to participate and they did not disappoint her. She went to her apartment to put the books down and then walked up the stairs eating a piece of chocolate. She definitely had to leave this addiction behind, but it was not going to be today. Before she entered the room she heard the violin being played. She stopped for a while on the corridor, listening to the song he was playing. She did not recognise it. He stopped a bit and then continued. Yes, she heard the sound of a pencil running through paper, he was composing. And what a nice melody.

"You can come in." Sherlock said, not bothering to look behind. "I promise I won't stop playing."

Dylan entered the room and sat at the couch.

"I like that song." She said. "It's not as sad as usual. What is troubling you?"

"Nothing. I just appreciate thinking and it helps."

He turned around, putting the violin down. She asked.

"Do you want some chocolate? I have a whole bar and I don't want to finish it alone."

Sherlock smiled. If she did have an addiction, that was it. Better than any of his, that was sure. She looked at the nicotine patches on his arm and passed him a piece of chocolate.

He sat down next to her and took the chocolate and they ate in silence for a while.

"Did John go to work?" she asked.

"Yeah, he left early in the morning. He said he was going to be a busy morning so he started earlier, but he is free in the afternoon." Sherlock answered.

"He's a nice guy, John, isn't he? I mean, to put up with you and all…"

Sherlock poked her on the ribs with his elbow but smirked.

"Yeah, he does. And he actually gets surprised with my deductive capacity. You know how everyone else reacts when I start doing those things."

"They tell you to piss off." Dylan said, smiling.

"Exactly."

"Is it true that Mycroft tried to pay him in exchange of information?"

"Yes. He was trying to see if John was a trustful person, of course. He has his own ways to keep me under his eye."

"Always pretending he doesn't worry, but always worried. I wonder what it is like in his head."

"Yes, Mycroft always thought he knew what was best for us. Like he had to protect us. He forgot that people grow up and not necessarily follow his whims."

"I wish we were all easier to handle. Especially among each other."

"You'll be just fine with him. You can adapt."

"I am not so selfish to worry just about myself, Sherlock. The relationship between the three of us has never been easy, though it's a lot harder between you two, and that doesn't make much sense. We are clever, we should know how to deal and get over this kind of things."

"We are too proud to do it." Settled Sherlock.

"We are, aren't we? Mycroft does not accept our decisions; we do not accept his guidance." She finished her chocolate and added with a fake gloom on her tone. "We are doomed forever."

They smiled at each other and Sherlock held her with one arm.

"Now, you big liar, you said you wouldn't stop playing." Complained Dylan.

He got up and picked the violin up, and started to play. Dylan leaned back on the couch, her back turned to him and began to read a book while listening.

John got in the apartment an hour later and this was the picture he saw when he walked in.

"Oh, hello!" he said.

Dylan raised the eyes from the book and smiled.

"Hi!" and asked, putting the book down. "How did work go?"

"Fine." John took his coat off and Sherlock stopped playing, taking notes on the music sheet. "It was a busy morning, lots of colds, but it went okay. It's good to be back. To feel needed."

"So, many old people telling you their problems?"

"Yes." John admitted. And laughed. "And not only old people. They're not sick, they just need company sometimes."

"And that's why you've got a date tonight." Dylan said, looking at John more attentively. Sherlock turned around and looked at him as well, waiting for his confirmation.

"Hum, yeah, I have. How do you know?" John asked.

Sherlock moved around and went to his computer.

"You come home quite later than normal; you obviously stood there after consulting. You have a small handkerchief falling from your pocket that is slightly too feminine to be yours, which means someone forgot it there. Quite a simple thing, people forget things everywhere, but there is a number written on it with black pen, so I suppose the woman who wrote it there did not write it just in case she lost the handkerchief, she did want to lose it. She knew you would be the one to find it since she left it at your consulting room and, since it had the number and you are a gentleman, or maybe because she noticed your interest during consultation, you would call her. Obviously she hasn't picked the handkerchief up yet, even though you could go and meet her to give it back after work. But no, you are going to give it to her tonight. You understood her intentions, she got what she wanted." Sherlock sat down and opened his computer, inserting the password and login in on his blog, 'The science of deduction'.

"Very well." Admitted John. "That's true. I do have a date tonight. Any problem with that?"

"Not at all." Sherlock said. "But I may need your help."

"No, no, no, no!" John said, turning to Sherlock, who ignored him, continuing to write on his blog. "Don't even think about it! You have ruined half my dates in the last years, that's just not going to happen this time, okay?"

"If I have been ruining your dates all this time, what makes you think I will not ruin this one as well?" Sherlock asked. "Actually, I don't think I ruined them, I just made a boring night an adventure. And I saved you the trouble of finding an excuse to break up."

"Well, that's your interpretation of things and this time I will not let you ruin it. You may as well be being strangled by The Golem again, I will not leave my date, you understand? So, if you want to get adventurous, do it on your own, I will not help tonight."

"Not even if he is falling from a rooftop?" Dylan asked, looking at John with a smirk on her face. John's look hardened a bit. "Oh, too soon?" She asked.

"Bit too soon, yeah." John said, and sat down.

"Sorry." She apologised, half-heartedly.

"What about you?" Sherlock asked, pointing at Dylan without stopping what he was doing.

"Oh, I can't today. I also have a date."

Sherlock moved his eyes from the computer and looked behind for the first time.

"With whom?"

"Someone from the University, why?"

"Curiosity."

"So, I guess you will have to work alone today." She pointed out. " What are you writing there?"

"Body's reactions to certain kinds of poisons. I've been doing some research. Rare poisons, almost unable to be found in the body."

"Are you sure it's safe to put that in your blog? People read it you know, it may give them ideas. That's not as harmless as 243 cigarette ashes."

"It's for science, Dylan."

"I guess that excuses almost everything, in his opinion." Said John. He and Dylan laughed, shaking his heads.

"After the last case I thought people should be warned of the dangers they may run." Pointed out Sherlock.

"Okay professor Moody Mad-Eye, if you think it's okay to have that information around…" Dylan got up and messed up his hair. Sherlock got away from her with a movement of his head but smiled.

John was living with Sherlock for quite a while now and almost every day was still a surprise. The rhythm was not yet the same they used to have. Not so many cases. He did not believe London was safer, but the return of Sherlock Holmes was still quite new, and soon the thrill and adventure would start. He hoped so, at least. Sometimes Sherlock was impossible to be around. Even though he had been away, he had not changed. He was the same old Sherlock. In a way John was thankful for it. To have Dylan around made things easier.

"Okay, I should go. I have to meet Molly. I promised her I would help her buy a new dress and I hate being late." Dylan said, putting her coat on. "You girls behave." And before any of them could say anything she dashed out of the apartment, her feet running down the stairs.

"Your sister is almost as crazy as you." John said, smiling. Sherlock looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"You have no idea." He said and smirked. He closed the computer and picked a book, looking through the pages.

"What happened to her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Yesterday, when Mycroft came here. They had sort of a fight. Mycroft said something about compromise and she got angry."

"Oh, that." Sherlock said, yawning. "Someone proposed to her. She said no and ran away to America. Of course she never really admitted she was running away, but we all know she was."

"Sorry, I don't…"

"She met this guy when she was 15. She was young but one of the cleverest people I know, as she has always been. He was quite older than her, still they kept a relationship. They were mad about each other. Quite clingy." He made a disgusted face. "When she turned 18 he asked her to marry him. She said no, broke up with him and decided to move to America, using studies as an excuse. I've talked to her in the years she was away, as you know we've been writing letters to each other. Every time she is in a relationship and it becomes more serious, she just ends it. She says she has a problem. Maybe she does. Then again, don't we all?" Sherlock said, looking at the floor.

"You worry about her." John said, not a question, but an affirmation.

"Of course I worry about her. She's my sister."

And he got up, took the book with him and went to his room. John stood there alone a while longer. By having Dylan by their side he was starting to know a part of Sherlock he hasn't known yet. He was more than just a sociopath and concealing his feelings with her around was not so easy. John went to the kitchen and opened the fridge to drink some water and realised that maybe it was better to get some groceries. Dylan had been doing it the whole time since she moved to 221C and she deserved a break. He looked through the cabinets and a little after left the flat, a grocery list in hand.

0

When John came back to the apartment Dylan was on the phone and making dinner. Sherlock was lying on the couch, looking at the ceiling. He was going to freak out soon if no cases showed up. He had been quite quiet lately, which might also be a bad sign. Dylan laughed and said her goodbyes to whoever she was talking to.

"Hi." Sid John, starting to remove the groceries from the bags and putting them into place. "Why are you cooking? We both have a date."

"I am making some lasanha for Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. He needs to eat." She said, pointing at Sherlock. "And since I was going to cook anyway, might as well cook for Mrs. Hudson too. She was all happy…"

She smiled and John smiled back, finishing putting the groceries away.

"How about Sarah?" Dylan asked, putting the lasanha in the oven and cleaning her hands.

"She's fine."

"No, I mean, did you ever talk to her about… going out again?"

"Yes, I did actually. But she didn't really appreciate that our first date ended up with her almost being killed." John joked, laughing. "Plus, she has a boyfriend now, so I guess that's it for us."

"I am sorry." Dylan said. She set the timer and washed her hands finally, pulling her sleeves down.

"No, it's okay. It's better off this way, we work together and all, so… yeah, it's fine."

"Okay. Well, I am going to get ready to leave." And turning to Sherlock. "I set the timer for 20 minutes, it should be enough. Make sure you call Mrs. Hudson when it's ready."

"Hm, hm." Was all Sherlock said.

She didn't look at him twice, went out of the room and left to her own apartment. John decided to get ready as well; Lisa would be waiting for him at the entrance of the restaurant. He went upstairs and dressed up a bit. When he came down Dylan was saying her last goodbyes.

"Stay out of trouble and no matter what, don't call me. I am on a date." Then she said her farewell to John. "Later, John."

"Bye." He waved and he heard the door close downstairs. "Okay, so I'll be off too. Are you going to stay here all night?" He asked Sherlock.

"Maybe." That's all Sherlock answered. He then got up and started playing the violin and John knew quite well that it meant. He was sending him out of the apartment. He had seen him do the same to Mycroft once.

John walked the few streets that led to the restaurant where he and Lisa had agreed to meet. He had to admit that her move had been quite clever. He felt like she was flirting with him during consultation but was not sure. She was pretty, well dressed and more or less the same age as he. Still, he let her go with some prescriptions and proceeded to call the next patient. It was only when he made a small break to get a coffee and got up that he saw the handkerchief fallen next to the chair, half hidden under the table. He picked it up and saw it had a number. He decided to call. It was Lisa and she was very happy he had found it. He then asked her who keeps their phone number in handkerchiefs. She said she was very fond of that particular one. He laughed and she didn't say anything else, waiting for him to make a move. He then asked her if he could meet her to give her the handkerchief. For dinner, maybe. She asked him if he was trying to seduce her. He said, 'maybe, why?' She answered 'I thought I would have to pretend to be sick more than once a week to get your attention'. They had agreed to meet. Ah, he had missed it. The flirtation and going out, meeting new people. And, who knew, maybe she was the right for him. As long as he kept Sherlock away from her long enough.

She saw him before he did and they shook hands. Then he gave her the handkerchief and helped her inside the restaurant. It was a quiet place, lit only by a very dim light, cosy. Just like John liked. It had been her choice and John was glad.

They sat to order when John received a message.

"Excuse me, let me just check this." He picked the phone up and read the message. It was from Sherlock. He put the phone on the table, shaking his head.

"Is anything the matter?" Lisa asked.

"Oh, no, just a friend of mine."

The phone beeped again.

"Maybe I should turn it off." John said. Lisa smiled, friendly. Just as John was about to turn the phone off an urgent message appeared. John read it and looked at Lisa.

"Oh, not again." John complained.

"What is it?" Lisa asked, worried.

"It's a friend of mine. He seems to be in trouble."

Lisa looked at him, waiting for John to make a decision. He looked back at her and knew there was no way around it.

"Ah, listen. I am very sorry, but my friend is in danger. I need to help him."

"Oh, so you're leaving?" she said, smiling half-heartedly.

"Sorry. It may be important."

John picked up his coat and looked at Lisa a little indecisive, but left. That better be real or Sherlock would pay for it. He stopped a taxi and gave the address to the taxi driver, got to the spot where Sherlock had told him to meet up. It was a dark alley, on the outskirts of town but not too far from the centre. He paid the taxi and looked around, not knowing which way to go. He heard some quick footsteps. It was Dylan, putting on her coat. She stopped when she saw him.

"He sent you a message too?"

"Yeah, he did. He may be in trouble but I don't know where to start looking for him."

"In trouble? Why do you say that?"

"Well, the message he sent me…"

"What did it say?" Dylan asked, and she looked amused.

"Please come fast, I am in trouble. I need help." John quoted. Dylan laughed, looking around. "Why, what did yours say?" John inquired.

"There is a chase. Come quick."

"So, he's not in danger."

"He wouldn't message you if he was in real danger. This was all a set up. I guess he knows which strings to pull for both of us. So, there better be a chase. I didn't leave my date behind for this."

Dylan and John looked at each other and there was a loud noise. Right after they heard fast footsteps. Two people running on the other side of the street. Before they could see who was it or what was happening they heard Sherlock's voice.

"John, Dylan! That way!"

Dylan didn't take long to react. She said "Come on John!" and sprinted, looking to her side to check where Sherlock was headed. John began to run right after her.

"Do you think he gets a kick out of ruining people's dates?" John asked, right on Dylan's heels.

"Absolutely!" She shouted.

She turned to the left at the end of the street. They ran for a while and John realised Dylan knew London as well as Sherlock. She was focusing, only slowing down lightly to think of the best road to take. They could still hear Sherlock and whoever he was chasing running, getting closer. Dylan stopped abruptly and heard.

"This way!" She indicated.

There was a shortcut between two houses and a smaller street. Dylan went through it and a bit further they saw the man coming in their direction and going back again. That would give them and Sherlock an advantage. Dylan crossed the street, running faster and John followed. The shrieking of a car breaking suddenly filled the silence of the night. John's body flew in the air, being hit by the taxi he did not see. Dylan stopped abruptly and shouted his name, running to get closer to him. She held him by the arm and dragged him to the pavement, while the door of the taxi opened.

"John, are you okay?" Dylan asked, helping John sit on the pavement and trying to look at his face.

John felt an ache all over his body, worse in his arm. The taxi driver came out of the taxi, shouting at them.

"I am so sorry, I did not see you! You didn't even stop to look for cars! It was not my fault!"

Dylan turned to him.

"Yeah, sorry, we know. Our mistake." She raised John's face. "Jesus, you're bleeding! You got a big cut on your forehead…"

"Honestly, this is not my fault…"insisted the taxi driver.

"We know!" Dylan said, raising the tone of her voice and looking at the taxi driver. "Could you please keep it quiet, there's someone hurt here." And she turned to John again. "You're going to need stiches, your face looks pretty bad, no offense."

"I am okay." John said, trying to keep a brave face.

The taxi driver kept talking.

"I mean, what kind of crazy person crosses the street like that? I didn't even see you! And I wasn't driving fast! "

"Listen. We got it!" Dylan said. "Can you leave now? It was our fault."

"Well, I don't want any trouble with the police…."

"Get out!" Shouted Dylan, gesturing with her arm.

"What?"

"Out! Go away! Leave!" The taxi driver looked at her, shocked. That seemed to stop him there, unable to move. "Didn't you hear me? Get the hell out, go away now!" She shouted again.

The taxi driver looked at her as if she was mad, got in the taxi and drove away. She got back to John, who was trying to put it together, still sat on the floor.

"Okay, we need to go to the hospital." Dylan told him, calming down.

"No, I am fine." Said John getting up "We can go home and I can stitch…"

"You're not going to stitch yourself, are you crazy? We're going to the hospital right now. You may have a broken arm by the way you are holding it. It must hurt. You need to take an x-ray to it as well."

John knew her well enough to know it was no use trying to contradict her.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah, I am okay." Dylan held his arm, helping him get up.

They heard someone running in the distance. Sherlock.

"Damn it, we lost him." Then he saw John. "Oh, god, what happened, are you okay?" he looked at John's face and got closer, studying the cut on his forehead.

"He was run over by a taxi. We crossed the street without looking. We need to go to the hospital."

"Here, take this." Sherlock gave John his scarf so he could keep some pressure on the wound. "Keep it steady."

"I know, Sherlock, I am a doctor."

Sherlock nodded, looking around him.

"Why didn't you ask the taxi driver for a ride to the hospital? It was the least he could do after running him over."

"Well, I kind of shouted at him." Dylan admitted.

"You shouted at…"

"Yes, he was pissing me off. It's not too far anyway, we can walk. He wanted to stitch himself." Dylan said, pointing out John. "Walking won't be a problem."

John smiled and flinched at the pain that inflicted on him. They walked together, Sherlock helping to steady John and Dylan holding him by his other arm.

Sherlock and Dylan waited at the hospital waiting room for John to get stitched and taken care of. Dylan looked at herself in the mirror and combed her hair with her fingers. Did she really look like that? Scary. She saw Sherlock smirking at her through the mirror and she smiled back. She turned around.

She got closer to him and made him sit down because he was much taller than her. Then she combed his hair as well, because it was so tangled up as hers.

"Who were we chasing back then?" She asked, sitting down next to him. "I hope John didn't get his forehead stitched for nothing."

"An important man in an unsolved case."

"New client?"

"Not really. A college. Though he did not hire me."

"How so?"

"Do you remember the case in the bank?"

"What, with the Chinese gang?"

"Yes. Sebastian, my University colleague, it was him who had hired me to solve that case for him. He disappeared a few weeks ago. Not the first one to disappear in the same conditions. If you read the newspapers there's been all kinds of strange things going on that seem to be all connected. So I made some research of my own and figured out a few things."

"Like what?"

"Like, there is gang working in some of the main capital cities in the world that wants to infiltrate in the most powerful companies and banks, societies, that sort of things. But they are disguising themselves as a satanic society."

"Satanic as in the modern term?"

"Yes. Like a religion, a cult, you name it. They gather people and make things happen and then they influence some other people, their pawns, to commit crimes for them. They kill people and then they infiltrate in big companies, like I said, and take minor positions, in order to get information and to be able to blackmail some important people."

"So, it's all about money?"

"Money, power. Domination, mostly."

"And why are you getting yourself involved in this?"

"I think they might have kidnapped Seb."

Dylan thought for a moment.

"But how do they get into those places? I mean, they could threaten people, threaten to kill their families and have people doing things for them…"

"Every victim they kidnapped is single, with no close family to actually care for them. That's why I found a pattern. Seb was not married, had no girlfriend and his parents died a few years ago. He doesn't have many friends either. No real close relationships."

"So, they kidnap people who wouldn't be exactly needed, so no one will really want to look for them after a while, those people who were kidnap return and find a way to get into big companies or are already working there so they can provide vital information. But, or the person is a very good actor or they will show they are under blackmail… I mean, anyone could ditch out at the first chance…"

"Not if it's not them." Sherlock looked at Dylan. "If you have people who believe in doing whatever it takes to achieve a greater purpose and a good plastic surgeon, you can do whatever you want. A similar voice, a similar body structure. All you need are good hands to turn it into the same face."

Dylan looked at Sherlock, unsure of what she was hearing. Sherlock saw her mind starting to keep up with him, but not totally convinced.

"Listen," He explained. "I know it sounds crazy. But Seb disappeared for a few weeks, then came back again, supposedly after some unannounced vacations. I passed him on the street the other day and he did not recognise me. There was a flaw there. Someone took his identity and made him give them information about everything and he forgot or did not want to mention me. I made some investigations of my own on the other victims. I kind of stole something from Lestrade. A key, and I checked on their addresses and they are all back. How do you explain four people disappearing and coming back after a few weeks? The man I was chasing was the first one to disappear. I've been tracking his steps but he doesn't have a settled schedule. But I found a pattern. They go every Friday to the same place to get information. So I guess we'll have to wait another week, if they don't change the pattern."

"Why doesn't the police…"

"The police never see anything, Dylan, you know it. The first two cases were more than a year ago. Now two more disappear in a space of 6 months. Nobody would relate it."

"You did."

"Yes, but I am… me. I enjoy using my brain." Sherlock affirmed. "I want to know what is happening. And if possible I would like to save Seb. I don't know what they can do after they stop needing him. They can keep him for information or they can just red rif of him. They can get rid of everyone. This is an important case."

Dylan looked at Sherlock's face, still unsure of what he had just told her. That was so elaborate. And still, Sherlock didn't get it wrong very often.

John came out of consultation and into the waiting room, a small bandage just above his right eyebrow. He made the check out at the reception and looked around. He found Dylan and Sherlock sat at a bench. They got up when they saw him. He smiled.

"Okay, I am taken care off."

"Did it hurt much?" Dylan asked.

"A little bit. But I got the doctor's number." He showed a paper with a number written on it. There was a mix of embarrassment and smugness in his face.

"You know you left your date back at 8h00, right? You abandoned her." Dylan said, not believing the nerve on this one.

"Yeah, she just gave me her number in case I want to make extra hours here at the hospital. They need doctors." John said, laughing. He had to supress the laugh, because it made his head hurt.

"You little… Agh." Dylan didn't finish. She took Sherlock's scarf out of John's hand. "This will need good washing."

"Let's go?" Sherlock asked, putting the collar up and walking out the door.

"Let's." Dylan agreed. She turned to John, looking at his face, a lip bloated and several scratches. She showed a mocking smile. "You are so going to look like crap at Camille's engagement party. You look like you were hit by a truck, not a taxi."

"That's the story I am going to tell Anthea. It's going to make me look tough." He looked at Sherlock and they both laughed. Dylan shook her head and asked.

"How far on the date where you, by the way?"

"I left her before we even started having dinner. I had ordered, though. So, she probably had two courses." And he asked. "You?"

"He had just ordered dessert. It's not going to be easy to look at him back in school. But well, maybe it was just not meant to be. Fate, you know?" She smiled, unaffected.

"Yeah. A fate named Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock saw a taxi approaching and raised his hand, a happy smile on his face.