A fire had broken out in UNIT. Something had happened in the labs to cause a fire and it had spread violently throughout the complex. The alarm went off quickly enough to prevent causalities, the only concerns were smoke inhalation and burns, but other than that it was a blazing fire. Thankfully it didn't continue its reign as the fire prevention system kicked in and put out the fire with a foamy white substance that coated the area and the fire immediately died down. It took thirty minutes for the fire to end completely and for the marshals to declare that it was safe. By the time the Doctor and his companions arrived back, much of everything they found pertaining to the Corporation and the late Plague Doctor had been destroyed in the blaze. The lab was in tatters and covered in black gunk that stuck to the area like tar, the samples collected previously had melted to the tables, ruined and unsalvageable.

Scouts went to look for Grissom who had been absent during the ordeal, only to find that he had disappeared. There was no trace of him and his office had been destroyed completely, the marshals have declared that the fire in the office was different than the one in the lab and indicated that there was another fire started. While the scouts continued to search for Grissom, the Doctor leered at Bradley and Moya.

"We were following orders," Bradley repeated. The Doctor shook his head, "He wasn't a Cyberman."

"He is right," Moya looked at Bradley. Bradley sighed. "Look, Doctor, if I had a choice in the matter I would've gone to you but I did not have that luxury," he said. The Doctor glanced at passing soldiers bringing in the body bag of what remained of the Plague Doctor. The Doctor chewed on his lips, "What are you going to do with the body?"

"It'll be incinerated," Bradley replied. The Doctor nodded.

Sherlock looked at what remained of Grissom's office. It was blackened and nothing remained, odd. Sherlock remembered all the insects that were preserved on the shelves; he didn't see them at all. He stepped carefully around the remnants and stopped when he noticed a glass shard stuck in a pile of ash. With a pair of tweezers Sherlock dug it out and looked at it. It came from one of the jars, but something was off. The jar was on the ground long before the fire broke out in Grissom's office. It couldn't have fallen on its own; the way the glass cracked around the edges told another story. Grissom or some other threw down the jar onto the ground. Why, Sherlock didn't know. He stood up and glanced at where the desk was and tilted his head, the container was blackened and he went toward it. Carefully he pried it apart to find the beetles were nothing but ash, the fire was apparently hot enough to burn them to cinder. Sherlock stopped and turned around, there was no birdcage there, and he remembered the raven distinctly being at that exact spot. There was no indication it was in the fire, so it meant it wasn't in the office during the time of the fire. Sherlock chatted around but found that the raven was in the office last anyone peeked in and he tilted his head in thought.

The raven wasn't in the office when was on fire and Grissom was gone. He pondered until John came to him with a look. "Talked around, nobody really knew Grissom well," he said. Sherlock crossed his arms, "Really?"

"His employment records are odd, they say," John continued. Sherlock pointed, "What was his last employment?"

"Don't know," John sighed. Sherlock rubbed his chin, "I believe there was more to Grissom than I thought."

"What you mean?" John looked. Sherlock raised a finger, "His behavior. He knew more about the beetles than he let on."

"I'm not following," John shook his head. Sherlock sighed. "Grissom was involved, somehow," Sherlock spelled out to John. John stopped, "So, why almost burn down UNIT, why destroy the beetles?"

"The beetles could've been tied to him somehow. What better way of destroying evidences than to burn them and cause chaos to cover it up. Flee while everyone is busied with trying to put out the fires," Sherlock summed. John nodded, "Plausible, but what about the raven?"

Sherlock pondered, he tried to think of why Grissom would take the raven with him. Then again, it might've been a humanitarian thing. Grissom wanted to burn away all the evidence that could easily put him in the spotlight, but presumably felt that the raven deserved better and took it with him. At this point, Sherlock wasn't sure what to think.

"He probably didn't like the thought of it dying in the fire," Sherlock shrugged. "Took it with him and probably released it."

"Well, I suppose that would make some sense," John nodded. "He's trying to flee before convictions; I don't think he wants to add animal abuse to the list of charges he'd no doubt get."

The TARDIS was checked on courtesy of a soldier and it had not suffered damage from the fire or smoke, so some of the Doctor's fears rested easily, after all he had plenty to deal with. Both he and Clara stood in the burnt halls of UNIT, pondering what to do from there.

"Doctor, what are we going to do?" Clara asked the Doctor. The Doctor sighed, "I rightly don't know."

He rubbed his face. "We'll take the boys back to their universe… and then we'll go from there," he mustered. Clara nodded. She glimpsed at the body bag as it was being carried off into the restricted areas of UNIT and frowned. "That poor man, do you think he still felt it all after all these years?" Clara wondered. The Doctor pondered, "Given what little we know. He probably felt the beetles eating him."

"That's terrifying," Clara shivered. The Doctor sighed, "Nothing more terrifying than that, Clara."

The Doctor cleared his throat and walked with Clara toward Sherlock and John while they both looked around the remnants of Grissom's office. "What are you two doing?" the Doctor asked them. Sherlock looked at him, "Grissom was a part of it."

"Beg pardon?" the Doctor tilted his head. John nodded, "His records were almost exact as Walker's. Down to the detail both were scrubbed down and rewritten."

"How did you figure it out?" the Doctor asked. Sherlock cleared his throat, "How else did he know so much about the beetles?"

"He was a bug expert," Clara remembered. Sherlock nodded, "True, but how did he know that the beetles only affected ravens?"

"Trial and error?" the Doctor gestured. Sherlock shook his head, "He showed us as means to look as if he figured it out. However, his body language said otherwise, he already knew. In fact, he didn't even have to do anything."

"So what then, did he create the beetles?" Clara asked. Sherlock sighed, "That I don't know, Clara."

"Why would he create the beetles in the first place, if in that case?" John questioned. The Doctor chewed on his lips, "Then that's another footnote on the case."

Clara tilted her head, "Then why would he wait so long before he fled?"

"He probably didn't count on any of this to happen. If he knew Walker, then his death tipped him off something was happening," Sherlock pondered. John sighed, "I guess that means we'll have to keep looking."

The Doctor sighed, "Unfortunately I'll have to put you two back in your universe before me and Clara can look into this more."

"What do you mean?" John stared. "I told you, after this was said and done I'll take you both back. You didn't think I'd let you stay longer than you had to, did you?" the Doctor tilted his head. Sherlock stared at the Doctor, "You're not telling us the full story are you, Doctor?"

"What story?" John turned to Sherlock. Sherlock stared, "We'll forget the moment he drops us off. Isn't that the plan, Doctor?"

The Doctor stared back at Sherlock. He slowly nodded, "Impressive."

"Wait, I'd forget about this?" John points. The Doctor nodded. John balked, "Why?"

"Do you really want to remember this?" the Doctor pointed. John crossed his arms, "Why yes, yes I do!"
"Why?" the Doctor asked him. John pointed back, "Look it here, Q, it's bloody ignorant that you'd never asked us if we would want to remember this event or not. Some things cannot be forgotten!"

Sherlock nodded. "And if they're taking people from different universes, it's imperative if we know what we can to look into these matters," Sherlock pointed. John nodded quickly. The Doctor chewed on his lips, "If you remembered this. People might think you're nuts."

"Doctor, what the hell do you think they call me for working with him?" John pointed at Sherlock. "I've been called that for five years!"

Sherlock nods. "It's true," he simply said.

The Doctor huffed, "Well if you want to remember so damn much then, then you ought to damn well know the risks at hand."

It was a longwinded conversation, to the brink of insanity. But with some compromises and a quick break, it was all worked out. Sherlock and John could keep their memories of their adventure, but if only they kept it a secret from everyone else. John could write about it, but had to wash it completely and sterilize everything that would be compromising; of course he had to come up with details to replace the ones that were wiped away. Sherlock could easily lie to Lestrade and everyone else if they ever asked about him and John's hereabouts. If the Doctor were to call on them, he'd give them a week notice. It would've been a simple postcard dated the day the Doctor would appear and then some. Of course, they discussed what would become of the Plague Doctor's presence in Sherwood.

Since he was never in Sherlock and John's universe, they'd forget about him entirely. Which also meant that the London Crows wouldn't have a reason to dress up as Plague Doctors anymore, they wouldn't have been inspired to do so, the Doctor discussed what changes would be expected after the actual Plague Doctor's death. He would be forgotten by the people he helped, the Plague Doctor. However, John had a sly idea that could benefit Sherwood and keep the Plague Doctor's memory alive. "We still have the cassette tape," John commented. Sherlock nodded, "Yes, we do."

"They were at a pub last I seen them," John rubbed his chin. Sherlock smiled, "Inspire them to be London Crows."

"And you still have that promise to keep," John reminded him. Sherlock tilted his head, "Should I be in costume?"

"Exactly," John pointed.

When everything cleared up at UNIT, the Doctor led the three inside the TARDIS. As before, everyone readied and the Doctor flipped several switches and then some. The TARDIS hummed and rattled slightly as it shot through time and space, returning to Sherwood, precisely a day after Sherlock and John were taken into the TARDIS. The Doctor opened the door for them and they both stepped out, the sun was brimming and there hadn't been a cloud in sight, John turned to him, "When will we see you again?"

"I don't like making promises, John," the Doctor sighed. "Bad matters if I did and I didn't keep them."

"Will our universe be safe?" Sherlock asked him. The Doctor pondered, "Well, aside from some things. I'd say you're square."

"Um, but Doctor, on the off chance something does happen, how do we get into contact with you?" John remembered. The Doctor gave them a card with a particular phone number. The Doctor pointed at the card, "Call me up on the mobile, I'll be sure to take it."

"Right then, um, I don't know if it'd be appropriate to say thank you for taking us with you to, uh, UNIT and whatnot. So, all I'd say is, um, Godspeed, Doctor," John mustered. Sherlock raised a hand out to the Doctor. The Doctor took it and shook his hand. "See, you lot can be friends," Clara smiled. The Doctor chuckled, "Only in your dreams, lass."

With that, the TARDIS disappeared before Sherlock and John's very eyes. It was a longwinded day of speaking with Lestrade amid the disappearance, but with some white lies on Sherlock's part, no one even raised a brow at them. It was a good thing. The case involving the murdered stock broker was closed and the assistant charged with murder. John dropped the cassette off at the Owen Pub and told the then-London Crows if they wanted to do good, feed and care for the homeless and then some. Sherlock kept his promise and one night he adorned a plague doctor costume and helped fed the homeless, when Pat asked questions about him. When he revealed his face, she was happy as can be and spun around the alley, happily telling everyone she called it!

The day ended and Sherlock and John returned to their respected homes. John couldn't help but hug Mary as if he hadn't seen her in days and rushed to type everything up that he could for that night. Sherlock returned to 221B Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson didn't bat an eye as he went up to his flat and merely played the violin for the remainder of the night. He couldn't help but look out the windows time to time, he silently expected someone to be outside at the corner of the road.

"Lon-don Crow, Lon-don Crow," Sherlock hummed the song as he played on the violin.