After a week of Sherlock back, Adele was much happier. One, he wasn't dead, which was obviously a good thing. Two, she could get away with a lot more messing around, such as almost disintegrating the kettle with Sulphuric Acid.

Sherlock, however, was ridiculously bored. He still hadn't informed Lestrade of his aliveness, which meant that there were no cases. He hadn't updated his website, and with John banned from updating his blog, nothing was actually happening. The flat was often quiet for hours at a time, with Adele on her laptop, Sherlock highlighting various newspaper articles, and John either on his computer, or out.

Mrs Hudson hadn't been told about Sherlock either, so going out was impossible. Of course, this wasn't going down well, but John had insisted that they wait until as late as possible to tell her. Adele wasn't sure about this; the sooner they told her, the sooner Sherlock would stop taking his boredom out on the toaster.

Adele was also aware of the frequent glances in her direction, from both Sherlock and John. She tried her best to ignore it, but several times she would look up, scowling. Sherlock, however well he tried to disguise it, would in turn frown at her, and John would smile weirdly. Something was clearly going on, but Adele couldn't be bothered to guess what.

One afternoon, after John had gone to see one of his girlfriends (Sherlock and Adele had both told him it wouldn't last, but he refused to believe it), Sherlock spoke for probably the first time in the past week.

'Park Lane.'

'What?'

'Park Lane, Ronald Adair. Did you tell Lestrade about the texts?'

'No, why?'

Sherlock took out his phone, and scrolled through the contacts. Pausing at someone's name, he showed it to her.

'Lestrade? So?'

'Wait for it.'

Just as he finished speaking, the doorbell went.

'I thought you shot that off?'

'Not that, wait.'

Mrs Hudson answered the door, and directed whoever it was upstairs. Judging by the pattern of the footsteps and the hurried manner, they were coming up the stairs two at a time.

Lestrade. And by the sound of things, he was alone.

'He doesn't…?'

Sherlock grinned, leaned back, and plucked at the strings of his violin. Adele raised her eyebrows, bracing herself for a reaction. Lestrade walked in.

'Adele, I – 'He spotted Sherlock sitting in the chair, with the violin. 'Jesus…'

'Afternoon, Lestrade.'

Lestrade looked back and forth from Sherlock to Adele. Sighing, he dithered a bit in the doorway.

'Do try not to faint, Lestrade, you'll scuff the floorboards, and Mrs Hudson won't be too pleased.' Sherlock spoke as though this was a perfectly normal occurrence.

Lestrade came further into the room. He looked at Adele, obviously desperate for an explanation.

'What the…?'

Adele grinned, then looked at Sherlock.

'Should I tell him?'

'Go ahead.'

'Sherlock decided that he isn't dead after all and has now tormented us all enough to come back and solve crimes. Which is why you're here, correct?'

Lestrade looked terrified. Well, Lestrade terrified. Adele wanted to laugh, but that would probably be classed as insensitive, and she felt slightly sorry for Lestrade.

'I don't know how he's not dead, and he won't tell me.'

Lestrade finally managed to speak;

'How many people…?'

'Adele, John, and you.' Sherlock answered.

'Right. So. You want to help with the…?'

'Please. This is far too much fun to miss. Inform Donovan of my involvement, and I'll be there. With Adele and John.'

Lestrade looked worried then.

'Donovan? She'll be – '

'Absolutely furious. I know.' Sherlock looked pretty pleased with himself.

Adele was now confused.

'Hang on, are we talking about Park Lane?'

'Yes. Murder, I think.'

'How does he know? Scotland Yard aren't organised enough for that.'

'Texted him. Naturally, Lestrade was scared because someone had my phone. And he probably thought that you were in trouble, anyway.'

Lestrade looked more confused than ever.

'How did you…?'

'Honestly, Lestrade, are you that forgetful? It's me!' Sherlock was grinning manically now, clearly happy that he could insult Lestrade, and get out of the flat.

'Will you help?'

'Of course! Text me when Donovan's recovered from the shock.'

Lestrade sighed and left, obviously tired of Sherlock already. Adele grinned, as Sherlock jumped up and laughed.

'Excellent! Everything according to plan! Yes! Now, MRS HUDSON!'

'Oh no.'

Mrs Hudson appeared in the doorway.

'Yes dear? That sounded like – Sherlock!'

'Hello, Mrs Hudson! Wonderful to see you again!'

Mrs Hudson looked completely shocked, of course. Adele leaned against the sofa as Sherlock pulled Mrs Hudson into a hug.

'And now, everything is complete!'

Adele shook her head. Sherlock was well and truly mental. Still, he probably hadn't been able to talk to anyone while he was pretending to be dead/scaring her/whatever it was he did with his time, so she would have to cut him a bit of slack. Mrs Hudson laughed nervously, clearly wondering whether Sherlock was actually real.

'Goodness, Sherlock, I thought you were – '

'But I'm not! This is wonderful!'

Adele half expected Sherlock to start jumping around the flat now. She shrugged in the direction of Mrs Hudson, while Sherlock went into the kitchen. What Adele and John hadn't anticipated was the experiment that had been cleared away. Shit. Thankfully, Mrs Hudson had left, so Sherlock wouldn't yell at her.

'What've you done with my experiment?' Right on cue.

'Well, we all thought that you were dead, and none of us needed it.'

'I was in the middle of – '

'Blame John, not me. Although he'll say exactly the same thing.'

'Where is John, anyway?'

'He left about an hour ago, didn't you notice?'

Sherlock muttered something along the lines of 'mind palace' and 'murder'.

'He yelled that he was going.'

Sherlock chose to ignore her rather than think up a retort.

'So, what do you think about Park Lane?' He yelled from the living room. Adele followed him there, and glanced out of the window.

'Murder? Oh. If it were a gun, someone would have heard it, right?'

'Correct. But a gun is the most likely explanation, and you know what the force are like.'

'No witnesses?'

'Unlikely to be any, not in this situation.'

'Right.'

Adele heard the door slam shut. From downstairs, John called;

'I just saw Lestrade, was he-?'

'Yes, he was. Now, we've got a murder to investigate!'

Sherlock grabbed his scarf and coat (which was stupid because it was July), and grabbed John by the shoulders, turning him around and steering him out the door. John looked at Adele questioningly.

'They both know.' Adele muttered to him. 'He's absolutely ecstatic. And annoyed, he saw the table.'

'Shit.'

'On the up side, something to do. Sitting inside is boring. And he was starting to go mad.'

'So he...?'

'Who knows?'