Danielle handed the man the cup. He held tight to the warm cup. His hands shook.

Sherlock and John watched. John sat in his usual seat, holding his own cup. Sherlock refused anything to eat or drink. If a case was going to start, he needed to focus.

Danielle took his seat. Sherlock paced in front of the fireplace.

"Tell us from the start. Don't be boring." Sherlock ordered.

The man- Phil- did so.

==MPH==

Miles and miles away, a murder happened.

The Inspector on scene was called Carter. He had a murder suspect- vanished from the scene not to return. Carter was certain the man- Phil- did this crime.

An officer brought him his phone. "Sir. Phone call for you."

Carter answered. "Carter."

"Have you heard of Sherlock Holmes?"

Carter blinked. "Who?"

"Well, you're about to meet him now." Carter recognized the voice. The big Detective from NSY. The blokes at the station talked about him a lot- he'd been on the news. Lestrade. Carter avoided the news. "This is your case. It's entirely up to you. This is just friendly advice, but give Sherlock five minutes on your crime scene and listen to everything that he has to say. And as far as possible, try not to punch him."

Carter looked at the phone, confused. Why was Lestrade telling him this? Who the bloody hell is Sherlock?

The officer came to Carter again. "Sir, this gentleman and lady say they need to speak to you."

A lady? Lestrade said nothing about a lady. Was the bloke Sherlock? Or were they witnesses to the crime? Carter couldn't be sure, and he couldn't ignore it. Best to take a chance.

"Yes, I know." Carter walked to the car. "Sherlock Holmes."

The man and woman climbed out. A short, blond man and a slightly taller reddish haired woman.

The man held out his hand. "John Watson."

"Danielle Nolan." The redhead smiled, sheepishly.

"Are you set up for Wi-Fi?" The man asked.

==MPH==

Back at Baker Street, Sherlock yawned. The case would officially start now. He walked out of his bedroom, holding his bedsheet to him. The people over the video phone had delicate sensibilities. Honestly, it's not like they could even see his unmentionables.

Still. Sherlock would put on a bedsheet.

"You realize this is a tiny bit humiliating?" John asked.

"Tiny bit?" Danielle commented.

Sherlock grabbed a mug of tea. Danielle made it before she left, so it was very cold. "It's okay, I'm fine." He walked over to their work table. "Now, show me to the stream."

"I didn't really mean for you." John replied.

"Look, this is a six." He heard the doorbell ringing. Sherlock ignored it. "There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now, go back. Show me the grass."

"John! You agreed to this?!" Danielle scolded him.

"No! Sherlock, when did that happen?"

"We agreed it yesterday. Stop!" Sherlock ordered.

==MPH==

Danielle looked away from the screen. Her face warmed up. She wrote it off as the cold.

She hoped it would be normal. That's not to say she was ungrateful, no. In all honesty the wild adventures were her personal favorites. She'd spend hours talking to Felix about the wild day with Sherlock and John, or assuring Mrs Hudson about whatever noises she heard earlier that day.

Danielle loved how her pulse raced as they ran in the street. The cold night air, biting at her cheeks and fingers. The nights she would pull up her wild, pale red hair into a ponytail because it kept getting in her eyes. There were times she and Sherlock would get so excited, rambling on about the case and whatever revelations they had.

Sherlock just made her feel smart. After the disaster with Moriarty, Danielle fell into an awful slump. Most expected that John would be the one to help her. Unsurprisingly to her, it was Sherlock. He would come by her place on nights without cases. He would situate her on her couch, with a blanket and Nightclaw. He tried making tea- he sucked at it. The early nights meant Danielle climbed off the couch to help Sherlock from burning her kitchen down. Sherlock and her would bicker about a proper cuppa.

But it was so normal.

They would settle on her couch. As John got Sherlock into crap telly, Danielle got him into crap movies. Sherlock would watch the movies, yelling and judging and complaining. Danielle would argue about her opinion, of the awful meaning of a movie, of the shitty actors. Nightwing would stay curled on her lap. Erika kept wandering over to rest her head on Sherlock's.

For weeks, they did this.

It took very little time for those arguments to pop up during their cases. Sherlock would be glaring at a crime scene in some woman's flat. Danielle compared it to the movie, expecting Sherlock to laugh her off. Instead, Sherlock accepted the comparison as a clue. When he solved the case, he praised the help of John and Danielle.

It made Danielle more...welcomed? That she wasn't just the sexy lamp of their little group.

On the wilder ones, Danielle found she could actually provide helpful clues. That something in her mind welcomed the wild and weird, the odd and unlikely. She, after months of gentle not-quite insults from Sherlock, could give answers. Sherlock never told her off for it.

From the more, shall we say, sixes or below...well Danielle struggled. They were so easily solved, so easy to see, Danielle willed herself to believe them as bigger. Bigger cases, hiding behind mediocrity.

Sherlock did insult her for those. But never like he insulted Donovan or Anderson. It was a quiet, gentle correction.

God, Danielle loved him.

Which was probably why she was stuck in the marshes investigating a murder that wasn't worth Sherlock's time, apparently. Worse yet Sherlock was naked beneath a bedsheet robe.

Felix was right. Danielle was pathetic.

"Closer." Sherlock told them.

John flipped the laptop. Danielle failed to hide her blush in time. "I wasn't even at home yesterday. I was in Dublin."

Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Well, it's hardly my fault you weren't listening. ...SHUT UP!"

"D'you just carry on talking when we're away?" John asked him.

Danielle looked back. She saw Sherlock turning back to face them. "I don't know. How often are you away? Now, show me the car that backfired."

John moved the laptop to show it. Danielle could feel the blood leaving her cheeks. "It's there."

"That's the one that made the noise, yes?"

"It made the noise, not a gun." Danielle confirmed. As they walked towards the car, Inspector Carter walked behind them. "Your man wasn't shot. Just a blow to the back of the head killed him. It was done by a blunt object that nobody can find. Are you sure it's a six? What's the metric for this?"

Sherlock ignored her. He leaned back in the seat. Danielle couldn't stop herself from staring. The thoughtful look on his face drew her in every time. Danielle knew she was an idiot, and such a damn cliche. In love with her best friend- what an idiot.

"You've got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver." Carter reminded them.

Sherlock huffed. "Oh, forget him. He's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?"

Carter grabbed the laptop from John's arms. Danielle yelped, trying to keep it balanced. The laptop came as a gift from one of Felix's friends- Danielle treasured it. She trusted John to keep it steady.

"I think he's a suspect!" Carter snapped.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Pass me over."

"All right, but there's a Mute button and I will use it." John warned Sherlock.

John held up the laptop. It kept wobbling. Danielle yelped again. She grabbed it from John's hands. She pushed it onto the arms of Inspector Carter.

"Thank you, Danielle. At least you got it right." Sherlock remarked.

Danielle blushed again.

"Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play?" Sherlock asked.

Carter braced himself, broadening his shoulders. Danielle thought it was like when Anderson bragged about having 'evidence'. "He's trying to be clever. It's over-confidence."

"Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy-and you think he's an audacious criminal mastermind?!"

Danielle tilted her head. Wait, hadn't they left Phil with- and there he was. Hidden behind Sherlock, blocked at all times by the bedsheet. Also Sherlock's shoulders were wide in this shot. In person, they were boney. Danielle received many shoulder bumps from movie nights, trying to make her scoot over so Erika could sit on the couch.

"Don't worry-this is just stupid." Sherlock told Phil.

"What did you say? Heart what?" Phil asked, only to be ignored.

"Go to the stream." Sherlock ordered Carter.

"What's in the stream?" Carter asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Go and see."

Danielle heard Mrs Hudson's voice. It worried her. She took the laptop back from Carter. She watched as Mrs Hudson walked into the flat. A number of men in suits came in behind her. "Sherlock! You weren't answering your doorbell!"

"His room's through the back. Get him some clothes." One man ordered.

Sherlock "Who the hell are you?" Sherlock asked.

Danielle freaked. Sherlock knew Mycroft's people on sight. That Sherlock couldn't place these people worried her. She could feel herself starting to panic.

"Sorry, Mr Holmes. You're coming with us."

The man closed the laptop.

"Sherlock!" Danielle called out.

No reply.

Danielle forced herself to take in a deep breath. Sherlock told her not to be an idiot like Anderson, forgetting how to breathe. She was smarter than Anderson. Danielle could breathe. Sherlock could kick anyone's arse. If he were in trouble.

"Danielle? What's going on? What's happening?" John stood behind Danielle. He tried to look at the laptop screen. "Did you lose him?"

"No I- I think those people ended the call." Danielle reasoned. She took another deep breath. She pressed buttons on the screen, trying to start the call up again. "I can't get him back."

"Doctor Watson? Miss Nolan?"

Danielle and John looked up. A young officer lowered his cell phone. "Yeah?" "Yes?"

"It's for you two." He held out his phone.

Danielle tried once more with the call. It wasn't working still, so she closed her laptop.

John reached for the phone. "Okay, thanks."

"Uh, no, sir. The helicopter."

Danielle looked up. A helicopter? How long had that thing been there?!

==MPH==

The helicopter flew them over London. Danielle could see their flats for a while now. She also noticed, with growing unease, Buckingham Palace. The helicopter flew closer and closer to the palace.

"What's Sherlock done now?" Danielle groaned.

John sighed. "God, we're in trouble."

==MPH==

AN: Hello there! Yes, this took two months. Stuff happened behind the scenes. I'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter, and that y'all are excited for what's coming up! There's a lot I'm excited to write.

Thanks to Shade Sparda and mrs. morgan 35 for favoriting

Thanks to Shade Sparda, MaryElisabeth, and ImpendingDoomWithMayonnaise for following