Sherlock ran exhaustingly. He tried to open the door only to find it locked, and ran around the back. He opened that door and burst in on two very surprised people cooking. The older man opened his mouth to say something, but Sherlock raised a finger to his lips and pulled back his coat to let them see John's gun. The man nodded quickly and pulled the girl back to resume her folding of the pastry.

Sherlock crept out of the kitchen and up the stairs. As he walked silently along the corridor he heard talking behind one of the doors. He glided up to the door and pressed his ear against it. By the sound of it, the villainess of the piece had her back to the door, a remarkably idiotic move. Well, not remarkable, really. All these thoughts ran through Sherlock's head in a split second, to be replaced by the more important thought of how he was going to disarm her.

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"Ah, it's so nice to be able to tell someone vaguely intelligent about this, with the assuredness that they're never going to tell anyone," Felicity was saying at that very moment. "Of course, I'm not going to tell you everything. I've seen enough movies to know that's a bad idea. But he was cheating on me! With that kitchenhand, of all people!"

"So, you didn't know about the others, then?" John interjected, from the chair where he was tied, with a gun focused unswervingly on him. He didn't remember exactly how he'd got there, having been knocked out briefly. All he knew was that she was a better fighter than he'd expected, and those high heels were deadly.

"Oh, I figured it out eventually," Felicity waved a hand, luckily not the one with the Glock 22 in it, bringing John back to the present. "After he was dead, of course. But the kitchenhand was the one who really stung."
"Her name is Violet," John replied.

Felicity considered him. "You're remarkably calm for someone in extreme danger of imminent death." Her face cleared, "Oh, you still have faith in your little detective friend, don't you? That's sweet. He won't find you, you know."

Ironically enough, that was the moment that Sherlock chose to open the door ever so slightly and raise a finger to his lips. John had suspicions that Sherlock may have engineered that, but he kept his eyes carefully fixed on Ms. Sorrows and thanked God and housemaids that the door was oiled.
"I covered my tracks very well. I always did like Hitchcock," the elegant woman continued.

Sherlock crept up behind her and raised his gun by the barrel, but before he could strike, she spun around and fired.

Luckily the shot went wide, hitting the doorframe behind the detective. Sherlock fought the instinct to turn his – well, John's, but operatively his at the moment – own gun around in fear of hitting John. Instead, attempting to utilize the element of surprise, he ran straight at her and grabbed her gun hand. He twisted it upwards just as she fired again, sending down a rain of plaster.

John was silently watching all of this, struggling to slip out of his knots. However, seeing that Sherlock now needed a distraction, John called out her name.

She glanced momentarily towards him. In the moment she was distracted, Sherlock hit her on the left temple, keeping his grip on her wrist with the other hand. Whilst she was stunned he hit her again, harder, and she slumped to the floor.

Sherlock released her wrist and darted across to John. He knelt down in front of him and kissed him full on the lips. John blinked dazedly at the air as Sherlock went behind him and untied the ropes.

He handed his phone to John, talking rapidly as he began to tie up Felicity Sorrows, "Call Lestrade and tell him we've got one of the murderers here, and if he sends a police car to 34 Lupus St., he'll have the other."

"Um…" John said, simultaneously trying to process both this information and the kiss.

Sherlock looked up slightly exasperatedly. "On the first point, I'll explain the whole thing when Lestrade gets here. On the second, I love you. Is that really so hard to comprehend?" John shook his head slowly, "I… guess not." He shakily dialed Scotland Yard and asked for DI Gregory Lestrade.

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Greg turned to John and Sherlock. "So, what happened?"

They had both Felicity Sorrows and Mr. Boni (whose first name was apparently Peter) in custody and they were currently standing in the police station with the Doctor. K-9 had stayed at the flat with Mrs. Hudson, who had accepted custody of him without a word, rather than cause a fuss there.

"Well, Felicity wanted to get rid of Mr. Lance, because she'd found out-"

"No, not that. Well, yes, I'll need to know that, but I meant you and John."

Sherlock glanced at John.

"Well, let's just say you all predicted it," John said.

Lestrade frowned for a second, and then his face cleared. "Took you long enough! Mycroft will be glad to know. If he doesn't already know. Okay, tell me about the case."

"As I was saying, Felicity wanted to get rid of her husband, because she'd found out that he was cheating on her."

John snorted. "That's putting it mildly."

Sherlock glared at him.

"I'll shut up."

"Mr. Boni," Sherlock continued. "wanted to get rid of Larry Brown. He didn't have quite such a drastic solution in mind for him, though. Felicity had visited Lupus St. often enough that she knew how Larry treated him, and that if something happened to Larry, Peter was likely to inherit the business."

"But why would his P.A. inherit?" Lestrade asked.

"He had no family, and 'Boney', as he called him, was actually a lot more than just his P.A. That was one of the reasons he treated him so badly. He didn't want anyone to know that he actually did most of the work involved in the running of the business. Peter could certainly have made a convincing court case. Felicity tried to make friends with him after she realised firstly that her husband was cheating on her-"

John interjected at that point. "With her kitchenmaid, Violet."

Sherlock nodded at him and resumed speaking. "And secondly that she could manipulate him. She had realised that he wasn't faithful before Ms. Garry walked in on them, although that really confirmed it for her. So she set it up that Mr. Boni would kill Robert Lance in return for her 'dealing with' Mr. Brown."

"Oh, that explains her last comment," John realised.

When the other three frowned at him, he elaborated. "Right before Sherlock clocked her over the head, she said something along of the lines of 'I do like Hitchcock's films.'"

The Doctor got it first. "Strangers on a Train!" he grinned. "That was one of my favourites."

"Mine too!"

"Shall we go talk to Ms. Sorrows?" Sherlock cut in smoothly.

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"There's one thing I don't understand," Sherlock asked, leaning forward. "Why did it take you so long?"

"The plans hit a snag when I learnt that he actually liked the lying bastard," Felicity sneered. "But I got him over that soon enough."

"Why did you go back and strangle him?" The Doctor asked.

"I realised I couldn't trust the P.A. to actually kill him properly. And I was right. The poor, stupid man thought I'd come to save him. Ha! I was happy to fulfill my end of the bargain, since I never liked Larry anyway. Too domineering."

"Were you planning to kill Larry?" Lestrade wanted to know.

"No, a lot easier and a lot less dangerous to simply… disable him. A few rumours, perhaps a tumble in the stock market, a broken bone resulting in a stay in a hospital during which Mr. Boni would have to take over the business, and Larry would be booed offstage to be replaced by Peter."

Sherlock gave her a look that was almost admiring. "That's very neat."

"I thought so."

"But you'll end up in jail anyway," Lestrade interrupted. "Mr. Boni should get a lesser charge, since he wasn't the instigator and he was not the one who actually killed Mr. Lance, but you'll be put away for life. That's what I feel is a neat ending."