Disclaimer - I own no rights to the titles, characters, and trademarks herein.

Thomas Thurman – Glad you liked that last chapter. I hope you enjoy the conclusion as much as you did the set-up.

Lady Razorsharp – Glad you're intrigued. When deciding on which characters from the worlds of Batman and Sherlock Holmes to include in this story, Irene Adler just seemed to stand out. I've got to take a look for myself at the Holmes/Adler relationship.

Dreamsprite5 – Glad you're still reading. Bruce's interpretation of the painting is simply to show that he's got "bats on the brain." His idea of the vampire dripping innocent blood from its mouth is to show Bruce Wayne's anger at the world and distrust of human beings in general, and that he still has frightening memories of stumbling into a bat cave as a boy.

A/N – And now the conclusion to "The Case of the Winged Demon."

Bruce looked incredulous as Holmes led him into a small room. Inspector Gregson followed behind. Holmes opened the capsule and unrolled its contents onto a table.

"This is a forgery," he said. "And not a very good one, at that."

"That's impossible!" said Bruce.

"I assure you it's the truth," said Holmes. He began to point out several lines and curves on the painting, insisting they had not been there before.

"This is exactly what I had feared would happen," said Gregson.

"I hold myself personally responsible for this," said Holmes. "It seems I overestimated my young pupil. It seems he wasn't ready for such an important task."

"But I did exactly what you told me to!" insisted Bruce. "I didn't take my eyes off that painting. Not even for a second."

"Facts speak for themselves, Master Bruce Wayne. When I left you, the genuine painting was displayed in front of us. The painting you took down from the canvas ten minutes later was a fake."

"This is disastrous!" declared Gregson.

"Well, maybe I could have done more if you'd actually told me what was going on!" said Bruce.

"I told you exactly what you needed to know," said Holmes. "No more. No less."

"We received an anonymous letter at the Yard," said Gregson. "It informed us that a thief would infiltrate Lord Edward's party and steal the Patelli painting. I asked Holmes to do what he could to prevent the theft."

"And I asked Master Wayne to keep his eye on the painting while I kept my eyes on the guests," said Holmes. "Apparently, he couldn't even be trusted to do that."

"I swear to you, I never left that painting!" said Bruce. "No one could have stolen it. Not while I was standing there!"

"I'd hate to interrupt your arguing," said Gregson, "but something must be done here."

"Something will be done," said Holmes. "Stay calm. Do not alarm the guests. Bring me a list of those in attendance and I will instruct you to bring them back here for questioning one at a time."

Bruce sat down and looked into Holmes' eyes.

"I can't believe you don't trust me."

Holmes' eyes showed nothing but a steely gray. Bruce looked down at the table as Gregson reentered the room. The inspector handed a list to Holmes, who ran his index finger down it and then declared, "Bring me Miss Ruth Moore."

Gregson disappeared, only to return a minute later with a large woman who was as unpleasant to look at as Sabrina Smith had been pleasant. Holmes stood up and bowed courteously.

"How delightful to see you again, Ms. Moore," said Holmes. He turned to Bruce. "Ms. Ruth Moore is the gossip columnist for the Sussex Voice, and she has been a friend of mine in my retirement days. Ms. Moore, I assume you've done your share of mingling with our fellow guests this evening?"

"Of course, Sherlock. That is my job, after all."

"I've asked you in because I fear one of them may be a criminal. Have you met anyone suspicious this evening?"

"A few people, really," said Ruth. "First of all, there's Irene Adler, the famous opera diva. There seems to be something scandalous going on wherever she steps."

"I can attest to that fact," said Holmes, clenching his pipe between his teeth and striking a match up against it.

"Then there's Sabrina Smith, a young actress. She's got a wild spirit, Mr. Holmes. Mark my words. Finally, there's a Mr. Alen something. His last name escapes me."

"What can you tell me about this Alen something?" asked Holmes.

"He's very handsome," said Ruth. "Quite a charmer. Very young with a mustache and goatee. He doesn't quite seem to fit in with high society, though. It's as if he doesn't belong here."

Holmes thanked Ruth and the lady left the room.

"I talked to Sabrina Smith," said Bruce. "While I was guarding the painting."

"Is she an attractive woman?" asked Holmes.

"Yes," said Bruce. "Very attractive. Why?"

"Because if you noticed you obviously weren't keeping your eyes exclusively on the painting," said Holmes. Bruce groaned. "Let's meet this very attractive woman, Gregson."

Sabrina entered, looking slightly confused but not unhappy. Bruce was glad she was in the room. He was already sure she was better company than Holmes.

"It's really you?" she asked. "Sherlock Holmes? You're one of the world's greatest detectives!"

"If not thee," said Holmes. "But that's unimportant right now. I believe you've already met my friend, Bruce Wayne."

"I might have," she said, winking flirtatiously at Bruce.

"Miss Smith, the reason I've asked you in here is because a certain valuable object has been stolen."

"I knew something funny was going on when those lights went out," said Sabrina. "What was stolen?"

"A painting," said Holmes.

"The Winged Demon," said Sabrina. She looked down at the table. "Yet you have one in here. And there's one out there, too."

"How beautifully perceptive of you! But I'm afraid both are mere forgeries. Tell me, Miss Smith, what brings you here this evening?"

"I'm an actress," said Sabrina. "I was going to perform a Shakespearian monologue for Lord Edward."

"And I would suggest that you still do," said Holmes. "You are to act as if nothing has happened. As an actress you of course pay close attention to details. Have you seen anything that might be considered suspicious this evening?" Sabrina shook her head. "Let me rephrase that. You were admiring the painting shortly before the lights went out?"

"I wouldn't use the word 'admiring'," said Sabrina. "But Mr. Wayne and I were discussing it."

"Was anyone else there that you can recall?"

"No one memorable," said Sabrina. "Just some stuffed shirts and gowns. There was one man I remember. A very handsome, very exciting young man…"

"With a mustache and goatee whiskers," said Holmes. "Named Alen."

"How do you know that?" asked Sabrina. "You're psychic, aren't you?"

"Far from it, Ms. Smith. Merely observant. Did this Mr. Alen have a last name?"

"Golmer," said Sabrina. "Alen Golmer."

"Thank you. You'd better leave us in time to deliver your monologue."

Bruce welcomed the view of Sabrina's retreating figure even more than the last time. When he looked back at the table, Holmes looked cross.

"At least she has some powers of observation," he said.

"I know what I observed," said Bruce. "I never looked away from that painting. At least not long enough for anyone to steal it."

"Then you must have seen something, man!" cried Holmes.

Bruce shook his head.

"Somebody had to have stolen that painting while the lights were out."

"Impossible!" said Holmes. "A clever criminal plans out all details ahead of his crime. Turning out the lights would throw off his plan, not encourage it. Inspector Gregson, I would like to speak to Irene Adler now."

Irene Adler looked only at Holmes as she entered the room. Bruce noticed that Holmes swallowed hard. Holmes then asked Gregson and Bruce to leave him alone with the woman.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Bruce began to follow Gregson back to the party, but when he was sure the inspector wasn't looking he rushed back to the door and leaned against it.

He was only able to hear a few phrases out of the conversation, but he found them telling enough.

"This has nothing to do with our past."

"This has everything to do with the past… You know it!"

"Despite our former meetings…"

"What we had…"

"I am not a man ruled by his passions."

"… Ruled by his passions."

Bruce heard footsteps approaching the door and backed away from it. Irene Adler finally stepped out.

"He wants to see you," she said to Bruce.

Bruce returned to the room. Gregson followed not long after.

"I think it's finally time we meet this Alen Golmer," said Holmes. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. "Chief Inspector, would you be as kind as to show him in?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Holmes rose from his seat and waited. As soon as Alen Golmer entered the room and began to greet the occupants, Holmes leaned forward. Golmer could do nothing but stand in shock as Holmes took a firm grasp on his whiskers. When Holmes straightened his back, he was holding Golmer's mustache and goatee in his hand.

Gregson gasped.

"Presenting Mr. Alen Golmer," said Holmes. "Alias Elmer Logan."

"How did you know it was me?" asked Logan.

"Elementary," said Holmes. "I thought I recognized you earlier this evening, even with the false hair. Besides that, you were too clever for your own good. You should have never created your nom de plume by anagramming your genuine name."

"You got me again, Mr. Holmes," said Logan. "But again you'll have to let me go. I didn't steal the Patelli."

"Then how did you know it was stolen?" asked Bruce.

"Somebody replaced the Patelli with a forgery before I could get my hands on it," said Logan. "I was looking at it a few minutes before the power outage. There were too many strokes that didn't need to be there. I knew it couldn't have been a genuine work of art."

Holmes sat back and puffed on his pipe.

"You admit you were planning on stealing the painting, then?"

"I'll admit anything you want. Except for actually stealing it. I found some bird in the crowd that agreed to create a diversion. A nice, plump one willing to do anything. She was going to fake a faint and I was going to snatch the painting while everyone was attending to her. But I went to look at the painting one more time before taking my move. Your friend here…" He indicated Bruce. "…Was discussing the painting with some fox."

"Ms. Smith, I take it?" said Holmes, turning to Bruce.

"I might have seen him there," said Bruce. "He wasn't doing anything to draw attention. I'm telling you, no one could have…"

Bruce stopped abruptly. Holmes had stopped looking at him and was instead studying Elmer Logan's disguise intently. Holmes then dropped the mustache on to the table and began rubbing his fingers. Bruce noticed a black smudge in Holmes' hand.

"What should I do with him, Holmes?" asked Gregson, grabbing firmly onto Logan's arm.

"Let him go, Gregson," said Holmes. "Logan, as much as I loathe admitting it, had nothing more to do with this crime than Irene Adler. I want to talk to Ambassador Folger now."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What happened to the painting?" asked Bruce, after Gregson had left the room. He studied the painting in front of him, trying to figure out what Holmes had seen that was so wrong with it. "How do you know Alen Golmer, or whatever his name is, isn't lying? Why are you so sure Irene Adler had nothing to do with this?" Holmes said nothing. "Who stole the painting?"

"Ambassador Folger!" said Holmes heartily. Bruce looked up and saw Holmes and the large, bald man he had met earlier shaking hands again. Holmes explained the situation to the ambassador and asked him to take a seat.

"Take a seat?" said the ambassador, spit flying from his mouth. He removed a cigar from his jacket pocket and clenched it between his teeth. Holmes lit the ambassador's cigar and then relit his pipe. "How can I be expected to sit calmly while we have a crisis on our hands?"

"Don't worry," said Holmes. "I think this crisis can be averted. Shortly before the lights went out, a friend of mine studied the painting and found it to be a forgery. Ten minutes earlier, I studied the painting and felt certain it was the real thing."

"Then somebody stole the painting during those ten minutes?"

Holmes shook his head.

"Master Wayne was in front of the painting during those ten minutes. He assures me the painting was not taken during that time."

"I'm confused," said the ambassador. "When was the painting stolen, then?"

"It hasn't been stolen," said Holmes. "Not yet, anyway. The painting's right here."

He indicated the painting rolled out on the table. Bruce, Folger, and Gregson all looked at Holmes in utter confusion. Holmes picked up the mustache that was lying besides the painting.

"In a manner of speaking, someone applied a disguise similar to this one to the painting. I see you still don't understand. When I looked at the painting, I stained my hand with charcoal. Someone applied temporary markings that would cause the Winged Demon to appear as a forgery. The painting could easily be restored, however.

"Ambassador, you knew the exact program for the evening. You knew when the attention of the crowd would be diverted. It was easy for you to get close to the painting and, as the evening progressed, add artificial flaws to it. At the end of this night, you were planning on taking Lord Edward aside and telling him that his painting had been replaced with a forgery. You would then replace his painting with a more realistic forgery, restore the original painting, and sell it for a small fortune's worth of cash."

The fear in Folger's eyes told Gregson and Bruce that everything Holmes had said had been true. In one swift move, Folger grabbed the painting, turned, and lunged for the door, tripping over Bruce's recently extended leg as he did so. Everything in the room shook when the large man hit the ground.

"That's attempted theft, isn't it?" said Bruce.

"Diplomatic immunity," moaned Folger.

"But the crisis can still be averted," said Holmes. "The painting is to be restored immediately. At the end of the evening, the forgery will be replaced by the genuine article, by you, Gregson."

Folger looked with hatred at Holmes as he returned to the event outside of the door. Holmes rose and emptied what was left in his pipe.

"Then I was right," said Bruce. "No one took the painting while I was standing there."

"You were," said Holmes. "You did an admirable job."

Now Bruce looked at Holmes with hatred.

"As a gentlemen, I will admit that your observations were correct," said Holmes. "Now, let's not get hung up on trifles."

"No," said Bruce dryly. "Let's not."

"I suppose he's going to expect an apology now," though Holmes. "He's going to be impossible to live with."

A/N – And so ends Bruce and Sherlock's first case together, but they'll have many more to come. Unfortunately, I can't promise frequent updates. In fact, updates will probably be very infrequent since I'll be starting my sophomore year of college and will be very busy. But I'll add other cases when I get the chance, and I'll never leave you hanging in the middle of a mystery. Not for long, anyway.