Cora had only been gone a couple of minutes to go and finish tidying up her room to now pop back downstairs with the police still milling about, but there was something amiss; her brother wasn't there, which worried her slightly.

"Uh, where's Sherlock?" she asked, looking in John's direction.

"He just left in a taxi," he tells her.

"What do you mean he just left? Where's he gone?"

"Not sure, but I'm calling the phone. It's ringing out," John spoke up, glancing in Lestrade and Cora's direction, holding his mobile phone against his ear.

"Well, isn't this bloody fantastic? I leave for a couple of minutes, and my brother does a vanishing act."

"If it's ringing, it's not here," Lestrade pointed out the obvious as John lowered his phone and reached for the laptop on the desks between the windows.

"I'll try the search again," John suggested as Cora came to stand beside him to look at the computer's screen, and at that moment, Donovan came back to confront Lestrade.

"Does it matter? Does any of it? He's just a lunatic, exactly like his loony sister, and he'll always let you down. They both do, and you're wasting your time. All our time."

"Oh, Donovan, please don't talk; you're lowering the whole street's IQ," Cora informed her, not bothered about Sally's comment as John laughed.

"You're brother said the same thing to Anderson."

"See, they're both freaks, the pair of them," Donovan contested moodily.

Reminding Cora of a girl who used to pick on her when she was at school, that's until her brothers told the poor girl about her father's affair. She never bothered Cora again. That was the only time her brothers truly got along when protecting their only sister.

John instantly stops what he's doing to look up and over his shoulder at the female police officer with a look of disbelief and the sudden feeling of wanting to come to Cora's defence, "Think that's enough, don't you."

"Thank you, John, but I can stick up for myself. You know I'm not some damsel in distress," Cora snapped at him, leaving the older man to shake his head in disbelief for having helped her.

Greg stares down his fellow officer for a long moment with disapproval. Sally held his gaze, only for now to roll his eyes and sigh before speaking up loudly to gain the other officer's attention, "Okay, everybody. Done 'ere."

The police officers began to exit the flat as Greg grabbed his coat and turned to Cora and John, "Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?"

"You know him better than I do," John shrugged with uncertainty as Cora wandered into the kitchen to start cleaning up the mess the police had made. She'd figured that Sherlock was a big boy and didn't need her help with this case.

Greg noticed the other man's eyes briefly following her before saying, "I've known him for five years, and no, I don't. I hardly know a thing about the pair of them. Cora's a little bit more of an open book, but they're both hard to understand as one another."

Cora knew that much was genuine about what she heard her friend saying. When it came to their monthly meetings, she never gave much away to him about herself. But Greg probably knew more about her than others did. Her brothers once told her never to let anyone in too much because they'd use her strengths and weaknesses against her. Maybe it wouldn't do much harm if she let John in now and then. After all, they would be living under the same roof together.

"So why do you put up with them?" Cora heard John inquire.

"Because I'm desperate, that's why," Greg walked towards the door before turning back to face John, "because Sherlock and Cora Holmes are great people. And I think one day if we're fortunate, he might be a good one like his sister."

"Well, for that, Greg Lestrade, I'll escort you to the door," Cora said with a grateful smile as she returned to the living room.

Cora walked Lestrade down the stairs of 221B Baker Street in peaceful silence beside one another.

"I'm sorry for leaving in a rush this morning, but you and I both know what Sherlock's like wanting you there on the dot, no excuses," Cora smiled at Greg, who returned it.

"No, don't worry about it; I guess we'll have to have a long catch-up next time for the time being cut short today," they laughed as Cora nodded in agreement.

"Cora, about the drugs bust earlier..." Lestrade began to apologise, only for her to cut him short, knowing what he would say.

"...it was meant for Sherlock, I know; sometimes he needs a good shock now and then," she laughed softly before continuing, "Besides, you have a job to do, and it was wrong of us to keep the suitcase. From you."

Cora now opens the front door, allowing Lestrade to step outside. He looks back at her as she stands in 221B's doorway. About to open his mouth to say something about John's interest in her, he now turns to leave. Maybe she'd have to figure it out a little on her own.

"Did you want to say something just now?" Cora called out to enquire with a slight frown.

"No, nothing. See you later, alright."

As Cora saw Lestrade leave to get into one of the police cars, her eyes watched London black taxis driving by and daydreamed, wondering how delightful it would be to go unnoticed by everyone like a taxi driver is.

That's when it suddenly hit her. A taxi driver killed those four people without a moment to lose; she slammed the door shut and charged back up the stairs with urgency, yelling.

"John, I know who killed those people!"

❈•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•❈

"So hang on, you're telling me Sherlock just got into a taxi."

"Precisely, and who's to say it's not the very same cabbie," Cora replied, pacing the living room; she wasn't that worried as she knew Sherlock was more capable of handling it, but it didn't. Yet deep down, fear coursed through her at the thought of him not making it this time.

Suddenly, the computer started beeping, stopping Cora from pacing as she and John glanced in its direction, both turning towards it, noting the phone's new location. John goes to pick up the notebook computer. Cora comes to look closer at him, and both share a brief, knowing look.

Without saying a word, they hurried out of the flat and down the stairs with the laptop. Cora hurriedly grabbed her coat and scarf, went out the door, and slammed it shut to hail a taxi.

John is in the back of a taxi. He has the computer notebook open on his lap and holds his phone to his ear.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade," John spoke urgently into his phone, "I need to speak to him. It's important. It's an emergency!"

The female Holmes was bored of snatching the phone from the older man's hand.

"This is Cora Holmes, and I demand you to put me through to Detective Inspector Lestrade this instant!" Cora seethed down the phone to put on with the man himself within seconds as she quickly explained everything.

❈•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•❈

They finally reached Roland-Kerr College. Standing before them are two nearly identical buildings. It still wasn't clear enough from the map where to pinpoint the phone.

"John, you go and take the left building. I'll take a right," Cora suggests before they nod and run off into the buildings.

Cora races through empty corridors, glancing through each door and window, running up staircase after staircase. She was panicking as nothing but negative thoughts filled her head. Of course, Sherlock was brilliant but utterly stupid by being willing enough to put his life on the line to prove he was right.

"Sherlock!" Cora exclaimed as she continued running down corridors when suddenly a gunshot rang at the end of the hall.

"SHERLOCK!" the female Holmes screamed, pushing forward as fast as she could, bounding through the doors to see her brother gazing down at the murderer, who had a gunshot wound in his shoulder and was about to bleed out at any moment.

"Was I right?" Sherlock went on as the man turned his head away in disbelief. Neither man had noticed Cora was there, "I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?"

"Okay, tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me - my 'fan.' I want a name," the female Holmes stayed quiet as she tried to get her breathing under control as her brother continued talking.

"No..."

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you. Give me...a name," but the man refused. Sherlock steps on his wound, making him gasp in pain.

"The NAME!"

"'MORIARTY!'" the man said with a final agonising yell before his eyes fell shut, and the head rolled to the side dead.

The twins shared looks of equal confusion before Cora hugged Sherlock tightly, "Don't you bloody ever go wandering off without telling me again, alright?"

❈•≫────≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫────≪•❈

Cora and Sherlock sit in the back of an ambulance as the paramedic keeps putting a blanket on Sherlock's shoulders, who is taking it off.

"Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me," Cora hears her brother complaining as Greg approaches them.

"Yeah, it's for shock."

"I'm not in shock."

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs," Lestrade smiled as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" Cora raised a question.

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him, but..." Lestrade shrugged uncertainly just as Sherlock gave him a pointed look. "... got nothing to go on."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Okay, gimme," Lestrade insisted that Sherlock continue after rolling his eyes as the other man stood up.

"The bullet they just dug out of the walls from a handgun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of weapon - that's a crack shot you're looking for, not just a marksman or fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly, he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so he had strong moral principles. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service..." Cora noticed her brother trailing off from what he was deciphering and followed his line of vision on John standing behind the police tape.

Piecing everything together, her brother had just mentioned she looked at John in realisation, having figured out he shot the cabbie. Of course, it had been him. How did she not figure it out?

Just as John looks back at them, he turns away innocently as Sherlock and Cora realise the connection. Lestrade followed the twin's line of sight, but they quickly turned around before he could ask more questions.

"Do you know what? Ignore me," Sherlock implied to Greg, pretending to act confused about what had been said.

"Sorry?"

"Ignore all of that. It's just the shock talking," Sherlock grabbed his sister's hand and dragged her away towards John.

"Where're you both going?"

"We just need to talk about the rent."

"But I've still got questions for you," Lestrade pressed on as Sherlock turned to him with irritation.

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" he brandished the sides at Lestrade as if trying to prove it.

"Sherlock!"

"And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less."

"Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go," Lestrade said to the Holmes twins with a smile, watching them walk away.

Sherlock pulled the blanket off from around his shoulders and scrunched it into a ball as they approached John, who was waiting beside a police car. Sherlock passed it to his sister, who threw the open car window and ducked under the police tape.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining the two pills. It's been a dreadful business. Dreadful," John described as Sherlock and Cora looked at him momentarily.

"Good shot."

"Yes. Yes, must have been through that window."

"Well, you'd know," John gazed up at Sherlock as he spoke, trying but failing not to look so innocent, which gives him away entirely, "Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case."

"Are you all right?" Cora implored.

"Yes, of course, I'm all right."

"Well, you have just killed a man."

"Yes, I..." John trails off as the twins watch him closely before he continues with a subtle smile, "That's true, isn't it?" He confesses, "But he wasn't a very nice man."

"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?" Sherlock declared, nodding in agreement, and the twins felt reassured that John was okay.

"And frankly, a bloody awful cabbie," Cora smiled at this and nodded in agreement with John.

"That's true," Sherlock chuckled as he turned to lead his sister and John away, "He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!"

"Stop! Stop. We can't giggle. It's a crime scene! Stop it!" John tried his best to tell them to stop laughing, but it seemed he couldn't help himself either.

"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me," Sherlock denoted.

"Keep your voice down!" the older man ordered sternly as they walked past Donovan and instantly shut up, apologising to her, "Sorry - it's just, um, nerves, I think."

"Sorry," Cora apologised to Donovan before they continued walking.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?" John asked just after clearing his throat.

"Course I wasn't," Sherlock stopped, turning to look back at him, "Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up."

"No, you didn't," Cora stated disbelievingly with a scoff.

"She's right. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it?" John agreed with her statement, sharing a brief, knowing look, "You risk your life to prove you're clever."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're an idiot," the older man conveyed as both twins smiled, apparently delighted that even after having known them for 24 hours, they'd finally found someone who understood them or how they acted. After a moment, their smiles quickly faded.

"Dinner?"

"Starving," John offered a smile as they started walking again.

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stay open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle."

Just as Sherlock spoke, a few yards before them, a sleek black car pulled up, and a man stepped out, someone John instantly recognised as the man who abducted him. The same woman is with him also.

"Sherlock, Cora," John indicated, staring ahead, "That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about," the twins looked across to the man in question.

"I know exactly who that is," they walked towards the man and stopped, one twin rather displeased, the other a short smile. John glanced about him to gauge where the police were and if he needed their help.

"So, another case cracked. How very public-spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?" the man spoke rather pleasantly to them.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock inquired.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you and how you're leading our dear sister astray," Mycroft offers his sister a smile.

"Yes, we've been hearing about your 'concern.'"

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no!" Cora rolled her eyes in utter disbelief and scoffed at her brothers, bickering that, after all these years, she still had to put up with them.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer for it every day, especially our dear Cora, and you know how it always upsets Mummy," John frowns at this uncertainty about whether what he just heard was correct.

"I upset her? Me?" Sherlock glowers at his brother, "It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft."

"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?"

"Mother - our mother. This is our brother, Mycroft," John stared at him in amazement as Sherlock and Core turned their heads towards Mycroft, "Putting on weight again?"

"Losing it."

"He's your brother?!" John gawked at the twins in disbelief.

"Of course, he's our brother."

"So he's not ..." the blonde starts to suggest.

"Not what?" Sherlock asked as all three Holmes siblings gazed in John's direction, who could only but shrug with embarrassment.

"I dunno - criminal mastermind?" John grimaces after suggesting it while the twins give Mycroft a disparaging look.

"Close enough."

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government," Cora confides to John with a roll of her eyes, "Of course, when he isn't
too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis."

"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic," Sherlock spoke up, getting rather bored of the conversation.

The twins began to walk away, and when John was about to follow after them, she turned back to look in Mycroft's direction, who was now watching his younger siblings with interest and slight concern even though he hardly showed it.

"So, when you say you're concerned about them both, you are concerned?"

"Yes, of course."

"I mean, it is a childish feud?" The blonde goes on to inquire.

"They've both always been so resentful," Mycroft continued to gaze after his brother and sister, "You can imagine the Christmas dinners."

"Yeah, ...no. God, no," John half turns to follow after Cora and Sherlock, "I-I'd better, um..."

He gives Anthea, or whatever her name is, a short nod and a smile, which she returns but doesn't even bother to utter a word now, having gotten the hint that she wasn't interested.

John glances at Mycroft and then follows after Sherlock and Cora.

"Good night, Doctor Watson."

"So, dim sum," John now comes jogging up to the twins and walks alongside down the road.

"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies," Sherlock informed.

"No, you can't," Cora raised an eyebrow at her brother in disbelief, along with John, who was equally baffled.

"Almost can. You did get shot, though."

"Sorry?"

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound," Sherlock went on.

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder."

"Shoulder! I thought so," the taller Holmes voiced with surprise.

"No, you didn't."

"The left one."

"Lucky guess," John implied, unsure whether or not to believe Sherlock.

"I never guess."

"You always do," the female Holmes snickered.

"Yes, you do," John began to laugh as he noticed knowing smiles on both his and Cora's faces, "What are you so happy about?" he now pointed out.

"Moriarty."

"What's Moriarty?"

"I've no idea," Sherlock voiced cheerfully as they walked away.