Oddly enough, though, John reached the opposite wall at the same time as Sherlock and Violet. The young woman had a smile on her face. "Mr. Holmes, you do surprise me," she said. "Wherever did you learn to dance so well?"

"I don't remember," Sherlock responded dismissively. He moved past Violet, making a beeline for Alice Rucastle. "Mrs. Fowler, I believe."

The woman turned with shock on her face. "How do you-?" she began to ask. She cut herself off. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Sherlock Holmes," the detective responded. He gestured to Violet and John. "My associate, John Watson. And Miss Violet Hunter."

Alice Rucastle Fowler's eyes widened. "Violet Hunter?" she repeated. Her entire focus went to the young woman. "My dear, you look just like your mother! I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are here! How long have you been in London? Is Katherine with you?"

"I believe we should speak in private," Sherlock said to get her attention once again.

"Oh. My father will be giving a toast soon, I believe."

Ignoring the woman's protest, Sherlock took her arm and steered her towards the closest doorway. "I assure you, it will only take a few minutes of your time," he informed her. He located the closest room that had no people: a small pantry. And only then did he let go of the woman. "We are here to keep you from being murdered."

John made sure to shut door behind himself. With four people in the pantry, it became very, very tight. "Murdered?" Alice repeated. "Did Katherine put you up to this? For the last time, I'm not in any danger!"

"Is that why Katherine Hunter came to see you months ago?" Sherlock asked, his gaze intense. "To warn you that you were in danger?"

The woman frowned. "She didn't tell you?" she questioned, looking suddenly uneasy. "Yes. She tried to convince me that I'd made a mistake in coming back to my father's house. But I convinced her that I was fine."

"She died," Violet burst out. "The night she got back from London, my mother died. Her wine was poisoned."

That got Alice's attention. "What?"

"Katherine Hunter was murdered when someone poisoned a bottle of her wine," Sherlock clarified, taking control of the situation once more. "Her death, which was ruled a suicide, is what brought Violet here, Mrs. Fowler. And her life has been threatened since she arrived."

Shocked, Alice looked away from them. "No," she breathed. "No, this can't be happening."

"Maybe you should tell us how this all happened," John suggested. "Katherine Hunter was your friend?"

"Yes, we grew up together," Alice responded. Tears formed in her eyes. "She helped me when I...got married . When I ran away."

"You ran away and married a Mr. Fowler, yes, I know," Sherlock said impatiently. Alice nodded. "But he died a year ago, and now here you are. Returned to your family you fled from. Why was that fact so disturbing to Katherine Hunter that she came so far to warn you?"

Alice sighed. "My father and I never had a very good relationship after he married my stepmother," she admitted. "Katherine and her mother feared that if I stayed, my father would continue to rule my life. And take control of the inheritance I received from my grandparents."

"And despite that, you came back?" John asked. "Why?"

The woman shrugged helplessly. "I wanted to try again," she answered. "I was thrilled when Katherine came to visit. She tried to warn me that I was taking my life in my hands by doing so, but I believe that for all his controlling ways, my father would never hurt me."

"And yet, Katherine Hunter lost her life on the very eve of her coming here to warn you," Sherlock pointed out.

Raising her chin, Alice shook her head. "It pains me to hear my friend is dead, but it has nothing to do with me," she said sharply. "Now, I have a party to return to. I'm sure you can find your own way out."

Pushing Sherlock aside, Alice left the pantry. "That went well," John commented. "What are we going to do now, Sherlock?"

"She's still going to die, and soon, if we do nothing," Sherlock responded. He closed his eyes. "Just let me think."

There was an entire second of silence. "How is she going to die?" Violet asked. John glanced between her and Sherlock expecting the detective to snap at the woman. "If we stop that, you'll have enough time to figure the rest out."

"Murderers are rarely random," Sherlock responded, opening his eyes. "Its going to be poison in the wine."

"That's a big risk, isn't it?" John asked. "There's a hundred people out there. How will whoever is behind this make sure she's the only one who gets the right glass."

"The toast!" Sherlock exclaimed.

~*~

Standing on the edge of the room with Violet, John watched Jephro Rucastle offered a toast on the one year anniversary return of his beloved daughter. Around them glasses were raised. Alice accepted a glass from the tray a waiter, tall and dark haired, offered to her. She drank along with everyone else.

Around the room, everyone began to talk. The waiter, ignoring everything else, returned to the wall where Violet and John were.

"So, now what?" John asked. He gestured to the bottle of wine that Violet still held.

"I've called Lestrade," Sherlock answered. "He's going to pick it up and take it in to examine. In the meantime, we are going to wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?"

"For the murderer to try again."

Violet shook her head. "So, who is it?" she asked. "Who stands to gain the most by killing her? And why did my mother say she had to tell me something? She did what she could. She warned her friend, but Alice wasn't going to listen. Why would my mother have to tell me anything about this?"

"Very good questions," Sherlock responded absently. His eyes were on the Rucastle family. "If she'd drank the poison, she would have reacted by now."

Realizing what Sherlock was trying to do, John focused on the family as well. But, for five minutes, none of them reacted in any manner that betrayed guilt. "Sherlock, I don't think we're going to learn anything from them," he finally said.

At that moment, Mrs. Rucastle called for everyone's attention. "Sherlock, you've got to figure this out, otherwise Alice is still going to die," John said. Scowling, Sherlock closed his eyes, presumably running through the facts again.

Glasses were raised once again. Jephro Rucastle dragged his son up and hugged in front of everyone. His wife joined the hug, leaving Alice on the sidelines.

Sherlock opened his eyes when Violet grabbed his arm. "The poison isn't in the wine," she said. "At least not this wine." She gestured with the bottle of wine she had. "John was right. Who kills in front of so many people? Even the police would be able to figure out it was a murder. No, the poison is for later."

She had the detective's full attention. "You think you've figured it out?"

"I-I have a...theory," Violet said, hesitantly. "I mean, this wine could be laced with something. Just not the cocktail of poison that killed my mom. Something slower. But look at Alice's face right now. She knows she's not a part of that family."

John glanced over and, sure enough, Alice had the biggest look of betrayal on her face that he'd ever seen. "Everyone knows she wants to start over with her dad," Violet continued. "But now? He's focused on his son. Not her. Poison now will look like suicide."

"Clever," Sherlock murmured. He looked over at the Rucastle family. He was in time to see Mrs. Rucastle cast a look in Alice's direction. A look that was filled with smug expectation. With a victorious laugh, Sherlock focused on Violet. He grabbed her head and kissed her forehead. "I've got it."

The tall detective bolted away from them, pushing his way to the front. "I said something good?" Violet questioned, looking at John in open confusion.

"We're about to find out," John told her.

Alice spotted Sherlock coming towards the family. "I told you to go away!" she hissed.

"I've just come to offer my congratulations to the happy family," Sherlock announced loudly. He took the older Rucast;e man's hand and shook it vigorously. "Mr. Rucastle, I am certain you will find much join and comfort in your children in the days to come."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," Rucastle responded with forced joviality. "I am very content to have my family all together once again."

"Yes, moments like these are far to rare in your world, aren't they? Be my guest. Enjoy it," Sherlock stated, keeping his voice raised. He paused. "And the moment's passed. Let's talk a little bit about your family, shall we?"

John facepalmed. "I am never going to be able to show my face in polite society again."

"Leave us alone," Alice snapped. "I'm going to call security."

"Be my guest, and while you're at it, phone for an ambulance," Sherlock told her. "After all, some poisons have no discernible taste in liquids. And you just drank a glass of wine that no one else in this room received. Special, wasn't it? Chosen by a member of your oh so loving family."

The woman went pale, looking down at the glass still in her hand. "He likes the attention, doesn't he?" Violet asked, leaning towards John.

"Yeah, he does," John answered.

"If you have something to say, sir, say it," Rucastle said angrily.

"Poison in wine," Alice said faintly. The only way John heard her words was because every one else was very, very quiet. "Just like Katherine. Oh, god. She was right."

Edward Rucastle stepped forward. "You're not even supposed to be here," he accused. "You weren't invited."

Spinning, Sherlock honed in on the younger man. "Ah, yes," he said. "Let's talk about how much you've disappointed your father these past few years. You don't care for your sister. Now that she's come back into the family fold, she's set up as the good child, isn't she?"

The younger man backed down instantly. "What are you trying to imply? I wouldn't hurt her!"

"That's right, you like to see and cause people in pain; poisoning would be too quick for you. You can sit down now," Sherlock informed him, dismissing the man from the conversation. John almost felt sorry for Edward, who dropped into the closest chair. "And so we come to the rest of the Rucastle family."

All eyes turned to the couple. "You're a fool," Jephro Rucastle said sharply. "I don't know what's brought my family to your attention, but I warn you, if you keep this up-."

"You'll release that rather vicious dog you have tied up in your shed?" Sherlock interrupted. "Do, please. I think it would liven things up a bit, don't you think?"

Hearing a familiar voice saying, "Excuse me, coming through. Oh, lord, no," John turned to see Lestrade, followed by Srgt. Donovan making his way into the room.

"Let's tell a story," Sherlock decided. "A story that began exactly twenty six years ago. Your daughter was afraid you'd try to control her inheritance and ran away from home to marry the man she fell in love with. She was able to do this because her friend, Katherine Toller, helped her."

Catching Lestrade's attention, John waved the man over. "You're just in time," John said. "Sherlock's just warming up."

"This better be worth my time," Lestrade warned. His eyebrows went up as he took in the young woman by John. "Who's your friend?"

"Oh, Violet, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade and Srgt Sally Donovan," John introduced quickly. "Lestrade, Donovan, this is Violet Hunter."

Violet nodded in acknowledgment. "But, the past is so boring," Sherlock said. "Let s move on to something that happened just a few months ago. Alice returns to her family, intent on mending the fences. Her friend from so long ago tries to warn her that is a bad idea."

"Katherine Hunter didn't know what she was talking about!" Mrs. Rucastle burst out, speaking for the first time.

"Who said Katherine Toller's married name was Hunter?"

Mrs. Rucastle froze. Beside John, Violet sucked in her breath. "You wanted to keep your family just the way it was," Sherlock continued. "You've always resented your step daughter. Even twenty six years ago, your husband lavished his daughter with attention. Attention you thought should go to your son."

The woman took a step back. "You planned everything out so well, all those years ago," Sherlock said, pressing his advantage. "You convinced Alice she'd be better off with a man she'd only known for days. You even had Alice's best friend help her run away."

Jephro Rucastle turned towards his wife. "What?"

Sherlock kept the same distance between himself and the woman as he continued. "But then, she came back. And with your son not making very good decisions, you knew you'd have to make it a little more permanent this time. And when Katherine Hunter came to warn her friend, you used her as a rehearsal to your real plan."

"You have no proof!" Mrs. Rucastle said her voice wavering.

"All the evidence I need is in the bottle Katherine Hunter's daughter is holding right now."

Swiftly, Mrs. Rucastle looked to where Violet was holding up the bottle. "And by the way, I substituted the wine for a different bottle," Sherlock informed Mrs. Rucastle. "Alice didn't drink any of it."

Relieved, Alice sank into a seat next to her half brother. Mrs. Rucastle turned towards her stepdaughter. "No," she said. Anger rose in her voice. "Nonono! I planned everything! How could this happen?"

"Lestrade, I believe you have what you need to arrest Mrs. Rucastle for the murder of Katherine Toller Hunter, and the attempted murder of Alice Rucastle Fowler."

"Yes, I believe I do," Lestrade said, pushing his way forward. "Sgt. Donovan, if you will take the bottle of wine into evidence. Mrs. Rucastle, you have the right to remain silent..."

As the detective inspector continued speaking the Miranda rights, the rest of the guests began to speak. Sherlock jumped to the floor and joined John and Violet. "That...was...brilliant," Violet said, looking up at him.

"Yes, I know," Sherlock answered.

"Luck," Donovan grumbled.

John gritted his teeth, but it was Violet who defended the consulting detective. "What part of what just happened could possibly be attributed to luck?" she asked. "I've never in my life met anyone who could have done anything even remotely similar to what happened tonight."

Donovan didn't make a response, but turned away, rolling her eyes. "I think now would be a good time to make our leave," John said as more and more of the guests were turning their way.

"I suppose it would be rude to expect them to feed us after we ruined their party," Violet commented with regret.

That drew a chuckle from John. "John, really? I thought it was rude to giggle at a crime scene," Sherlock remarked.

"Oh, no! I am not having the pair of you gang up on me!" John objected.

"I do know a nice Thai place just around the corner," Sherlock informed them. "I think Lestrade and Donovan have things covered here."

"I love Thai food!" Violet said with delight.

"I just hope the paparazzi hasn't heard anything about this and we can get out with no trouble," John said.