Phoebe followed Sherlock and Lestrade away from the Moriarty when one of the porters came up with the passenger manifest.

Sherlock took the book from the man and began to look through it.

"All the passengers are listed, along with what station they boarded at," the man said as he looked up at Sherlock.

"So in theory, we could find everyone who boarded in Durham," Phoebe said as she looked over at the list Sherlock was holding.

"Yes," Sherlock agreed as he flipped through the pages.

"So, we know that John couldn't have done it, seeing as he didn't board in Durham, and we know that he wouldn't, but the man went to the loo," Phoebe started as she looked back towards the compartment where the murder had taken place. "My first thought is that he would've wanted to get rid of the knife and key because if we searched people and he was found with it, he would immediately be guilty."

"That's true," Sherlock said as he turned to look at her. "And if you look closer, the footprints match the ones that are all over the train. The shoes are issued to the crewmen."

The three of them watched as a crewman walked by them, leaving the same footprint, just in a different size.

"Of course. It makes sense. A crewman would offer a first-class passenger a drink. And they couldn't get rid of their jacket," Lestrade said as he turned towards Sherlock and Phoebe.

"Let's not forget his gloves," Sherlock said and Phoebe clicked her tongue. "Every crewman has their own pair of white gloves with their initials embroidered in. The killer wouldn't have been able to dispose of the gloves without giving away his clear involvment in the crime."

"So we need to find out how many crew members are on this particular run, and gather them all up. I'm sure William and Louis have come to a similar conclusion," Phoebe said to which Sherlock nodded.

"Most likely. Come on. Let's get started."

Sherlock shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned to find the transport police so they could gather everyone in one place.

-

Phoebe stood in the room beside Sherlock as he sat on a table, retelling the accounts of the murder that had taken place.

"There it is an entire outline of the crime as Liam and I see it," Sherlock said as he leaned forward a bit as he rested his right foot on his left knee.

"And us as well. If he couldn't throw out the blood-stained clothes. He would be left with no conceivable option other than washing them off in the loo's sink," the transport officer spoke.

"Yeah, which means the killer is one of the crewmen. That's our conclusion," Sherlock agreed and he narrowed his eyes at the six men in front of him. "Both of you with a ten-inch shoe size, please step forward."

The crewmen all stiffened as two men took a step forward.

"Now, if you gentlemen wouldn't mind letting us look at you gloves," Sherlock requested.

"But why our gloves, sir?" the man standing to the left in front of Sherlock asked.

"Allow me," Lestrade said as he stepped forward and grabbed the hands of the man who had spoken, revealing that his hands were clean. "Good, next."

The inspector then moved on to the second man. He kept his hands clenched at his sides, refusing to show the inspector. Lestrade then grabbed his wrists to pull his hands away from his side.

"Your sleeves are wet," the inspector noticed to which Phoebe grimaced. "Open your hands."

The man refused as his fists trembled. He clenched his teeth, not daring to look anyone in the eye.

"Show me your gloves!" Lestrade demanded.

Begrudgingly, the man opened his palms to the inspector, allowing everyone to see the pure white stained with a deep red. The entire crew gasped in disbelief.

"Red handed," Sherlock said, his expression not changing from stone. "Passenger Car Attendant Eddie Hawthorne, you are the killer."

"Eddie? How could you do such a thing?" One of his fellow crewman questioned, not wanting to believe his friend capable of such an act.

The rest of the crew began voicing their own disbelief over the situation.

"Doctor Watson, it seems we owe you an apology. Please excuse us," the transport officer said as he looked at John.

"You're mad! Me? Killing someone?" Eddie finally spoke as he looked up at Sherlock. "Believe me. It's mine. I had an accident."

"Prove it," Lestrade said with a hard look. "Now take off your gloves and show us."

"Of course," Eddie agreed, pulling off his blood stained gloves to show the two uniform slits in the center of his palms.

"What?" Lestrade looked at the wounds in disbelief.

"While working, I cut myself through the gloves. I was too busy to speak up," Eddie explained as Phoebe knelt down to pick up the gloves that had been dropped. "Please, you have to believe me! It's the truth! I'm innocent! That is unless of course you have some other proof?"

"The man's prevaricating, clearly," Sherlock spoke lowly to Lestrade as Phoebe studied the gloves, her lips pressed into a flat line.

"I agree. Still, nothing else implicates him," Lestrade replied. "Even after we recover the weapon from the side of the tracks, he could claim it doesn't belong to him."

"This certainly is odd," William spoke up as he took a step towards Eddie.

"William?" Sherlock raised a brow as he looked at the professor.

"You told us you hurt yourself through the gloves. Is that right?" The elder of the two Moriarty brother's spoke.

"Well, yes," Eddie confirmed.

"Then kindly explain... how did blood land on your eyeglasses?" WIlliam asked with a grin and Eddie's eyes went wide.

"I- that is-" He couldn't find the words as panicked consumed him entirely.

"Injuring you palms whilst wearing gloves still doesn't explain how blood got on the frames. Unless, it landed there when you killed Redwood in his compartment."

"Adding to that point, you say you cut yourself through the gloves, though these gloves are perfectly intact," Phoebe spoke up, gaining the rooms attention. I find it hard to believe the knife cut through you hand while not leaving a cut on the gloves themself."

Sherlock looked at her and then at the gloves in her hands.

William hummed with a smirk. "Those aren't the only clues. If you'd like, I could point out each one."

Eddie's jaw clenched as he looked down, knowing he was caught. "The manifest said that Redwood was a jeweller. I never meant to kill the man. I just meant to..." He couldn't bring himself to finish as tears welled in his eyes.

"Eddie Hawethorne," the head transport officer spoke as he slapped on the cuffs. "You're under arrest for murder."

William pulled out his watch and checked the time with a smile. "Excellent. We should arrive at Grantham in three minutes or so. Seems we made it in time, Mr Holmes."

"Liam, you scoundrel." Sherlock grinned as he leaned forward. "You're even better at bluffing than I am."

"My dear sir, whatever do you mean?" Willaim gave a wink as he walked towards the exit with Louis close behind. "Well, we must take our leave."

"Let's grab a bite sometime. I know a great bakery that just opened up," Sherlock replied and Phoebe smiled as she watched the Moriarty's walk away.

"Well, we should probably get ready to disembark," Phoebe said as she put the gloves on the table while Sherlock stood up. "You did good, Sherly."

That brought a smile to Sherlock's face as he looked down at her. "And I could the same to you."

"I didn't really do much to help," Phoebe admitted as she rubbed her arm. "But I'm glad you appreciate my help. I enjoying doing this stuff with you."

Sherlock nodded before his smile fell when he looked over at John.

"Now, we should go get you cleaned up, Doctor," Phoebe said as she walked over to John and the two began walking towards the loo so they could wash out the blood in his clothes before getting to Grantham.

Sherlock watched the two of them with a small frown before he thought about what Phoebe had said to him.

'You did good, Sherly.'

That made his smile return and he followed them out of the car.

-

"Ironic, isn't it," John spoke as he sat at the bar with Phoebe and Sherlock.

Sherlock stared at his glass, a grim expression plastered on his face.

"I was the one who told you to go ahead and become a murderer. But if you two hadn't been there for me undoubtly, I would've been the one branded a killer," the doctor continued before taking a sip of his drink.

"Uh, John... I... ugh, so, look," Sherlock started, swirling his finger in his scotch. "Lately things haven't been going my way. You know?"

Phoebe stifled the giggle that was trying to escape her lips by holding a hand to her face. Sherlock's antics never failed to bring a smile to her face.

"But, as long as you're okay with it then I wouldn't mind us teaming up again," Sherlock continued with an awkward smile.

"My word, is that really your idea of an apology." John raised a brow.

"Honestly, from him, that's the best you'll get," Phoebe replied to which Sherlock grimaced.

"It would seem the great detective is a mere mortal," John said as he smiled.

"While I'm not sure what on earth that's supposed to mean, tell me, are we a team again or aren't we?" Sherlock leaned closer to John, a scowl passing his features.

"Give me one of your cigarettes, Sherlock. As for the matches, I can handle those," John said as he pulled out his matchbox. "I wouldn't be a good doctor if I couldn't light a cigarette, wouldn't you say?"

Sherlock burst into a laugh as he sat up straight. "Doctor John Watson? Making a joke? For this to work, you're going to need a sense of humor!" He slapped John on the back with a bright grin.

Phoebe rested her chin on her hand and sighed with a smile.

These last few months were perfect to her and she couldn't help but hope that nothing changed. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Sherlock. And John of course!

Her cheeks flushed pink as she looked over at Sherlock. The way his eyes closed as he threw his head back in a hearty laugh. The way he made her feel like she was capable of anything. The way her heart began to race whenever she saw his impish grin.

She cleared her throat as she stood up, quickly turning away from the boys. "I'm off to the loo."

"Alright! We'll be here!" John said and Phoebe nodded, quickly leaving.

Once in the loo, she locked the door and looked at herself in the mirror. The color was beginning to fade from her cheeks and she breathed deeply.

"What am I even thinking?" She muttered to herself as she leaned against the wall. "I could never have feelings for him. He's stubborn and arrogant and... and really clever..."

She groaned as she dropped her head. She wanted to deny it, but she knew that it was pointless. She wished it wasn't true, but she wasn't stupid. The way Sherlock made her happier than anyone else. The fact that she could never stay mad at him, no matter what. The way she wanted to do anything to see him smile, hear his laugh.

She took a breath. She knew that she had to nip it in the butt now before she fell even farther.

"Months... we've been back together for almost four months and I already can't keep my thoughts straight," she grumbled as she straightened out her dress. "Come on, Phoebe. You're better than this. He's not worth it. You don't need a man to make you happy."

She stood straight and nodded to herself before walking out of the loo.

She looked back over to the boys and smiled to herself as she started to walk over before a leg was stuck out in front of her.

She yelped as she stumbled forward, catching herself on the ground.

She heard the table beside her laughing which made her grimace.

"I don't see a difference in height," one of the men laughed.

"Used to seeing that low, darlin'," another man joked.

Phoebe started to push herself off the ground before she was hoisted to her feet which startled her. She turned to see Sherlock who had a dead look in his eyes.

"He your protector, jellybean?" The first man asked with a grin.

"Excuse me, but you will respect her, if you know what's good for you," Sherlock threatened as he leaned down in the man's face.

"And what're you gonna do about it?" Another guy at the table stood up

Sherlock slapped his gun on the table and the men went silent.

"Come on, Phoebe," Sherlock said as he slipped his gon back into his inside pocket. He turned and walked her back to the bar where John was sitting.

"Are you alright?" John asked to which Phoebe nodded.

"Honestly, I was afraid you were gonna fight them," Sherlock admitted which made Phoebe laugh.

"That would've been a sight," John replied with a smile.

"It'd be a bit difficult in this dress, but I'd manage. I was taught by the best," Phoebe said as she nudged Sherlock with a grin.

Sherlock let out a chuckle and threw his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him. "We made a pretty great team as kids!"

"At terrorizing the town, maybe," Phoebe muttered with a grimace.

"But with John, we'll be unstoppable!" Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him in as well.

Phoebe laughed as John shrieked at the sudden movement.

If this was what she had fot the rest of her life, she couldn't ask for more.