"And how was the evening?" John asked when he saw Sherlock walk in the door behind Scarlett, the detectives eyes seemed to be trained on the woman's body as she sat down and took her heels off, rubbing her feet as she did so.

"Fine," Scarlett said. "Sherlock solved the case," she added on bitterly and John snorted, draining off the orange juice he was drinking and pushing his curry for one to the side which he had fetched that evening.

"I don't know why you're complaining," Sherlock drawled, flouncing down onto the sofa, laying back and looking at the ceiling whilst Scarlett rotated the chair to face him. "I took you out, didn't I? And you didn't have to pay."

"I should hope I didn't have to pay," Scarlett replied. "Your violin put me back enough."

"No," John raised his hands, his palms flat as he took his plate of curry back into the kitchen, "not this again."

"I'm not starting it John," Sherlock said like a little child.

"You know," John stated, "you may be some kind of genius sociopath...but you're extremely immature."

"And you're extremely annoying," Sherlock pointed out, closing his eyes and resting his hands onto his stomach, full from the buffet he had just taken Scarlett to.

"Right," Scarlett said, checking the clock and then standing up. "I'm turning in for the night."

"It's only ten past ten," Sherlock told her.

"Some of us have work in the morning," she said and picked her heels up by the tips of her fingers and stood with her other hand on her hip, looking over at Sherlock who was crashed out on the sofa;

"Work," he whispered. "How droll."

"Like I said," Scarlett replied, "I much prefer it than being shot at."

"You would," Sherlock said.

"Anyway," she shook her head, "can I be expecting you anytime soon or are you just going to meditate here?"

"Depends," Sherlock gave an awkward shrug.

"Okay then," Scarlett didn't go into detail. "See you later. Night John."

"Night Scarlett," he said and then the young woman disappeared down the hallway. As soon as she had gone, Sherlock allowed one lid to pop open and then he sat up quickly, ignoring John who had sat back down in the armchair and was looking at Sherlock questioningly as the Detective pulled out his own laptop.

"What are you doing?" he asked Sherlock who laced his hands together as he waited for the machine to load, peering at John over the top of the computer.

"The man who came last night," Sherlock said, "the one which my violin was the victim of? He works for Moriarty"

"And how do you possibly know that?" John asked Sherlock who narrowed his eyes and began to think;

"He had the same air of confidence about him when he was guarding that old warehouse, I caught sight of his long black hair from under his mask, and the man at the warehouse had long black hair. His eyes were also the same colour and he was the same build, meaning it had to be Moriarty's man," Sherlock explained.

"And you only just decided to find that out now?" John asked and Sherlock shook his head, loading himself onto the internet and to his blog.

"No," he said. "I should have realised last night...but my violin was my main priority...then tonight when I was with Scarlett at dinner I could have sworn I saw him watching us, but he was good, he turned away and walked off when I saw him."

"It could have been a stranger?" John suggested and Sherlock simply shook his head and began to type;

"No," he murmured. "It wasn't. It's too obvious."

"And...you didn't tell her, did you?" John asked, sipping his drink.

"Who?" Sherlock wondered, too involved in his work.

"Mrs Hudson," John said sarcastically. "w=Who do you think I mean?"

"Oh," Sherlock said, "Scarlett."

"Yes," John said. "The girl you share your bed with and are supposedly close to."

"I've been thinking about buying another bed to be honest," Sherlock said. "She does tend to have the habit of intruding onto my side and thinking it is alright to kick me and talk whilst she sleeps. It is most inconvenient."

"Why didn't you tell her?" John went back onto topic and Sherlock pressed the enter button, making his words stick onto his blog as he shut the laptop lid and looked at John.

"Because she'd only begin to worry and probably disapprove of my plan" Sherlock said lowly.

"What's your plan Sherlock?" John asked "please tell me it is nothing to do with Moriarty"

"Who else would it be to do with?" Sherlock responded as if John was completely and utterly stupid "I need to get rid of him once and for all...as long as he's alive then I know he can come back and hurt more people."

"You mean hurt Scarlett?" John asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes;

"What if I do mean Scarlett?" he asked. "The last time Moriarty was here it was all just a puzzle...and I didn't care about the people I was saving."

"But now you do," John stated and Sherlock allowed one awkward nod to escape his head.

"So the plan?" John asked.

"It may be best if you don't know," Sherlock mused.

"Why?"

"Because you would only go blabbing to Scarlett and then I would be the one who would receive her shouting at me and to be frank I can do without it," Sherlock informed John.

"You can't do this again Sherlock," John said. "Moriarty is a dangerous man...what if he kills you?"

"He won't," Sherlock sounded positive. "Then he'd have no one to equal him...I don't doubt that one day he will become bored and want me dead...but that day has yet to come and so I shall not worry yet."

"You know I can just read your blog and see what you wrote?" John said. "So stop being cryptic."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed. "I've told him to meet me tomorrow...the London eye, somewhere busy where he probably wouldn't dare try to make a move. I only want to talk."

"About what?" John asked.

"Nothing of relevance," Sherlock drawled. "Just about the recent killings."

"There have been killings?" John asked. "You never mentioned them."

"That's because Lestrade and his cronies are trying to keep it all hushed up. He text me earlier when I was with Scarlett asking for help. The people who are being killed are all the same...young women...blonde hair, blue eyes..."

"What are you saying Sherlock?" John wondered.

"I'm saying," Sherlock hissed, "that the women being killed have been to nightclubs and their deaths made to look like accidents...hit and run drivers...doing drugs in the bathroom...too much alcohol. But the recent victim survived the attack...and she told Lestrade that someone had paid her to just drink and have a good time and she said that as long as she was on the pavement at ten that night then she would be given her money."

"And?"

"And she went," Sherlock shrugged. "And ended up being hit by a car."

"So someone is bribing these girls to do things and then they're ending up dead?" John checked and Sherlock nodded;

"And the police only recognised the connection. Of course the fact that they didn't pick on is that all the women looked similar and that was slightly foolish of them not to realise."

"And you think this is linked to Moriarty how?" John wondered and Sherlock rolled his eyes;

"Who do I know who has blonde hair and blue eyes and likes to party as well as being fashionable and vain like all the other women?" Sherlock asked and John blinked several times;

"Scarlett?" he checked and Sherlock nodded.

"But why would Moriarty do this?" John wondered. "Kill people who look like her but aren't her?"

"I have seven possible reasons," Sherlock mused. "I think he just wants to mess with her head."

"Does she know?"

"No," Sherlock said. "But the police are coming forward with the information tomorrow."

"And she will know then?"

"Oh yes," Sherlock said. "But by then I shall have seen Moriarty and managed to find more out."

"And you're sure you know what you're doing?" John checked and Sherlock grinned;

"What a foolish question John," Sherlock muttered and then he laid back down onto the sofa. "But if my favourite blogger wants to come with me then I shan't question it."