"Mycroft, Mycroft, I know you can hear me," Sherlock said as she used a tendril of her web to slide down on.

Mycroft was a large black rat that frequented the stables. He glared up at Sherlock. "What do you want?" He snapped.

"I require your assistance," Sherlock said as she perched herself on John's feeding trough. Without waiting for an answer she continued on. "I need you to find me some clippings from magazines, newspapers, anything you can dig up that will put John in a good light."

Mycroft laughed. "Why should I care if he gets turned into bacon?"

Sherlock frowned as she pointed one of her legs at Mycroft. "You'll care when John's trough is empty. You'll starve, you selfish rat."

Mycroft stopped grooming his coat long enough to let Sherlock's words sink in, then he sighed. "Fine, have it your way, Sherlock. I'm leaving right now."

Sherlock then swung over to where John lay shivering in the corner of his pen. "Cheer up, John. I will save you."

Tears rolled down John's cheeks and over his snout, making him sneeze. "I hope so Sherlock. I'm scared."

Sherlock began to hum and then said, "Take a nap, John, everything will be fine."

John looked up at Sherlock. "Thank you."

A few hours later Mycroft dropped off a few scraps of paper. After looking through several of the scraps Sherlock found what she was looking for. "Perfect," she said as she scrambled up the side of a beam to her web.

The next morning when John awoke he immediately looked up at Sherlock's web and gasped, for the web had writing in its center. It read: "Wise Pig."

"Sherlock," John exclaimed. "Sherlock."

Sherlock peeked out from behind the web, obviously too tired to swing down. "Yes, John?"

"Did you spin that message for me?" John asked in wonder.

"Yes," Sherlock whispered.

John looked up at Sherlock's limp body and asked, "Are you alright, Sherlock?"

"Yes, John I just need to rest. Now sit underneath my web for I can see the farm hand coming with your breakfast now." Sherlock said as he scurried out of view.

John spared one more backward glance at Sherlock and then did as she said. When the farm hand saw the message in the web he dropped John's feed and ran into the house. Soon everyone in the household came to see the web. Reporters were called. John was famous. Crowds came from far and near to see the 'wise pig.' John was given extra rations and the barnyard hummed with happiness.

Moriarty the butcher walked by John's pen and snarled with loathing. "I'll never get to butcher that pig at this rate. I hate that pig," Moriarty whispered as he glared over at the web and the mob of photographers that swarmed in to take John's picture. Moriarty then looked up at the web and its message. "But I hate that spider worst of all. How dare it deprive me of a kill. I love my job and how many people can say that?" He thought as he sought to catch sight of the spider that had ruined his good time.

While everyone focused their attention on John, Moriarty went around the side of the pen until he was perpendicular with Sherlock's web. He then blew on the web until Sherlock crawled around the corner. Moriarty knew it would cause too much a ruckus if he jumped over the fence and smashed the spider so he fixed his brown eyes onto the spider and mouthed the words. "I owe you."