When they were home, Phoebe hummed.

"I have to get to work, guys. I'll see you later," she said as she went to go into her flat.

"You aren't coming with?" Sherlock looked at her.

"I can't. Sorry, Sherlock," Phoebe said before she went to go to her flat, but someone grabbed her hand.

"Please." Sherlock looked at her with pleading eyes, wanting her to come with him and John.

Phoebe sighed as she looked at Sherlock. "Alright. Just let me call the cafe to let them know that I'm not gonna come in."

"Wonderful," Sherlock replied with a grin before walking upstairs.

John followed him up to their flat and waited in the living room as Sherlock went to his room.

"What are you doing?" The doctor asked, confused as to why clothes were suddenly being thrown around in Sherlock's room.

"I'm going into battle, John. I need the right armor," Sherlock replied as Phoebe came up the stairs.

"What is he doing?" Phoebe asked when Sherlock popped in the doorway with a fluorescent reflective chartreuse jacket.

"No," Sherlock decided, going back to change.

"I have absolutely no idea," John replied to Phoebe.

🔎

Phoebe sat in the cab between John and Sherlock, going through her phone quietly.

"So, what's the plan?" John asked, breaking the silence between the three of them after a while.

"We know her address," Sherlock replied plainly.

"We just ring her doorbell?" John furrowed his brows.

"Exactly," Sherlock answered before pointed to a lot. "Just here, please."

"You didn't even change your clothes," John said and Phoebe hummed.

"Yeah, you were rummaging around in your clothes for a while," she spoke up.

"Then it's time to add a splash of color," Sherlock replied and the taxi pulled over.

They all got out and followed Sherlock as he walked a bit before taking off his scarf. The detective turned to John and Phoebe who were both confused.

"Are we here?" Phoebe questioned as she looked around.

"Two streets away, but this will do," Sherlock answered as he shook out his arms a bit.

"For what?" John asked, confusion laced in his voice.

"Punch me in the face," Sherlock said and John straightened up.

"Punch you?" John questioned, making sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Yes, punch me, in the face," Sherlock repeated as he pointed to his cheek. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I always here 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext," John replied to which Phoebe snorted.

"I'll punch you," Phoebe offered, having no qualms with punching him.

"John is stronger. No offense," Sherlock said to Phoebe who crossed her arms.

"I take full offense," she muttered.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Sherlock mumbled before he threw a punch at John.

John was taken by surprise, but his instincts kicked in and he returned to punch much harder. He turned and looked at his hand as Sherlock stood up.

"Thank you, that was, that was-" Sherlock was cut off as John tackled him to the ground.

Phoebe gasped as John put Sherlock in a choke hold.

"Okay, I think we're done now, John," Sherlock struggled out as he tried to pull back John's arms.

"You need to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier," John replied through grit teeth. "I killed people."

"You were a doctor!" Sherlock tried desperately to get out of the hold.

"I had bad days!" John yelled and Phoebe quickly stepped in.

"Let go, John! Come on!" Phoebe urged as she helped pry John off of Sherlock.

John eventually let go and he sat back, breathing heavily as Phoebe caught Sherlock.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" Phoebe asked as she helped him stand and he coughed a bit as he rubbed his neck.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Sherlock replied as he shook out his limbs a bit.

"I envy you, John," Phoebe said as she held out a hand to help up the war doctor.

"I've been waiting to do that," John admitted and Phoebe laughed lightly.

"I know how you feel," Phoebe replied to which Sherlock huffed.

"Let's go," the detective grumbled and they made their way to Irene Adler's house.

🔎

Phoebe stood beside Sherlock as he ringed the doorbell, John standing behind them.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath.

"Hello?" Came the voice from the security system.

"Oh, um, sorry to disturb you," Sherlock started, sounding panicked. "Um, I've just been attacked. Um, and I think they, they took my wallet and, um, and my phone. My girlfriend would've phoned for help, but her phone is dead. Um, please could you help us?"

Phoebe stiffened beside him, stomping on his foot which made him wince.

"I can phone the police if you want," the woman from inside said.

"Thank you, thank you. Could you, please, er, would you, would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much," Sherlock replied and Phoebe held up a tissue to wipe some of the access blood from his cheek.

The door buzzed as they were let in and Phoebe rolled her eyes. How on earth could anyone buy that awful performance?

"Thank you," Sherlock said to the redhead lady who was by the front door. He looked around a bit as he walked in.

"I saw it all happen. It's okay, I'm a doctor," John said to the woman as he shut the door. "Now, have you got a first aid kit?"

"In the kitchen," the lady replied before looking to Sherlock and Phoebe. "Please." She motioned to what appeared to be the living room.

Sherlock took Phoebe's hand as he walked into the living room and sat down, but Phoebe slipped her hand from his as soon as the redhead could no longer see them.

"That was not part of your plan," she muttered harshly.

"It was part of my plan. I just didn't tell you because I know you wouldn't have agreed to it," Sherlock replied.

"You're not wrong," Phoebe huffed and Sherlock looked at her.

He wanted to say something to her, but he wasn't sure what to say. He knew that he couldn't take back what he had done to her and while it wouldn't have affected him the way it did her, he still understood that he was in the wrong. He wasn't about to admit that aloud though.

As he looked at her, he couldn't read her. He was entirely used to it, but it still bothered him. His eyes traveled from her lips to her sparkling brown eyes.

"Why are you staring at me?" Phoebe asked as she wiped his wound again.

"I-" Sherlock started before a voice cut in.

"Hello, sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name," a new woman's voice was heard.

"I'm so sorry. I'm-" Sherlock stopped when he looked over to see Irene Adler.

Phoebe looked over and then quickly looked back at Sherlock's small wound. Naked. She was naked.

"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright. Isn't it?" Irene walked over and Sherlock followed her movements. "There now, we're both defrocked." Irene reached out and grabbed the paper collar from Sherlock's suit. "Mr Sherlock Holmes."

Phoebe was left extremely uncomfortable as she just sat looking at her lap.

"Ah, and Phoeboletta Hunt," Irene said as she looked at the brunette sitting beside Sherlock.

"Miss Adler, I presume," Sherlock said as he looked up at the woman in front of him.

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face," Irene flirted smoothly as she studied Sherlock's face. "Would you like me to try?"

Irene put the paper collar in her mouth as if it were a rose. Phoebe thanked the Lord Jesus Christ and everything holy that John walked in.

"Right, this should do it," John said before he saw the scene in front of him. He looked at the bowl in his hands and then back up at the three people in front of him. "I've missed something, haven't I?"

Irene removed the paper collar from her mouth and stepped back. Phoebe let out a breath she hadn't realized that she had been holding.

"Please, sit down. Or if you'd like some tea, I can call the maid," Irene said as she walked to sit in one of the chairs.

"I had some at the palace," Sherlock replied plainly as he looked at her. He shifted to get more comfortable, having been taken by surprise.

"I know," Irene said as she sat in a position to cover herself a bit.

"Clearly," Sherlock muttered and he glanced at Phoebe before he looked back at Irene.

"I had a tea too, at the palace," John spoke up in the awkward room. "If anyone's interested."

Sherlock ignored him as he looked at Irene, but he couldn't read her. He was used to being able to not deduce Phoebe, however, this was different.

He looked at John. Two day shirt. Shaved with electric, not blade. He had a date tonight based on his attire. He hadn't phoned his sister. He had a new toothpaste. And last night he had a night out with Mike Stamford.

He looked at Phoebe and his thoughts were fuzzy. He couldn't focus on anything but her features. He looked at Irene though and his thoughts were clear, but he couldn't read her. There was nothing there.

"Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Irene spoke with a grin. "However hard you try, it's always a self portrait."

"You think that I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock adjusted the collar of his suit and Phoebe huffed.

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself," Irene said which made Phoebe snort in amusement.

"One hundred percent correct," she replied to which Sherlock nudged her.

"Hmm, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too," Irene continued as she leaned forward in her seat.

"Told you that you should've let me punch you," Phoebe muttered.

"You would've broken my nose," Sherlock replied as he looked at Phoebe.

"Ha! So you admit that I'm strong enough!" Phoebe crossed her arms. "I would've enjoyed it too. Maybe not breaking your nose, but the punching you part."

John laughed nonchalantly at the two before looking back at Irene. "Could you put something on, please? Uh, anything at all. A napkin?"

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene asked with a playful smirk.

"I don't think John knows where to look," Sherlock replied as he stood up, grabbing his coat.

"No, I think he knows exactly where," Irene said as she stood as well, taking the coat from Sherlock. "Not sure about you."

"If I wanted to look at naked women, I'd borrow John's laptop. Or go into Phoebe's room at night," Sherlock said to which John furrowed his brows.

"You do borrow my laptop," John said.

"I confiscate it," Sherlock admitted as Irene slipped on his coat.

"Well, never mind, we've got better things to talk about," Irene said as she sat down on the couch, covered by the coat now. "Now, tell me, I need to know. How was it done?"

"What?" Sherlock questioned and Irene removed her Louboutin heels.

"The hiker with the bashed in head, how was he killed?" Irene asked again as Phoebe scooted over so there was some space between her and Irene on the couch.

"That's not why I'm here," Sherlock said as he looked at the woman in his coat.

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs, but that's never gonna happen," Irene replied quickly. "And since we're here just chatting anyway."

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" John asked curiously.

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes," Irene answered and Phoebe hummed.

"Oh, and you like policemen?" Phoebe asked as John sat on the opposite side of her.

"I like detective stories," Irene said as she looked at Phoebe. "And detectives. Brainy's the new sexy."

Sherlock had a thought run through his mind. Brainy's the new sexy, huh? Human error. He didn't even noticed the look of slight jealousy cross Phoebe's face.

"Position of the car," Sherlock stumbled out, forcing himself to sound desperate. "Uh, position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire, that and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know."

"Okay, tell me, how was he murdered?" Irene asked, intrigued by this story.

"He wasn't," Phoebe spoke up and Sherlock nodded to her with a grin, pacing in front of the three on the couch.

"You don't think it was murder?" Irene kept her gaze on Sherlock, raising an eyebrow.

"I know it wasn't," Sherlock replied as he continued pacing.

"How?" Irene asked curiously.

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman, recently returned from foreign travel, and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room," Sherlock said quickly.

"Okay, but how?" Irene was now completely invested.

"So, they are in this room. Thank you," Sherlock said as he looked at the dominatrix. "John, man the door, let no one in. Phoebe will stay with me."

John got up and put down the bowl he had still been holding. Phoebe sat straight and looked at Sherlock who gave her a sly smile.

"Two men alone in the countryside, several yards apart and one car," Sherlock started as he began pacing again.

"Oh, I... I thought you were looking for the photos now," Irene said as she shifted uncomfortably.

"No, no, looking takes ages. I'm just going to find them, but you're moderately clever and we've got a moment, so let's pass the time. Two men, a car, and nobody else," Sherlock started again. "Driver's trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere. And the hiker is taking a moment, looking at the sky. Watching the birds?"

Phoebe hummed as she thought about it, picturing the scenario in her mind like Sherlock had taught her.

"Any moment now, something's going to happen. What?" Sherlock asked Irene.

"The hiker's going to die," Irene said as she watched Sherlock carefully.

"No, that's the result. What's going to happen?" Sherlock asked again.

"I don't understand," Irene said and Phoebe gave a slight grin.

"Oh, well, try to," Sherlock replied, seeing Phoebe's grin so he knew that she had the answer he was looking for.

"Why?" Irene asked, not seeing the point.

"Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think. It's the new sexy," Sherlock mocked her before he motioned to Phoebe.

"The car is going to backfire which will create a loud noise," Phoebe answered for Sherlock.

"So what?" Irene questioned.

"Oh, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything," Sherlock said, winking at Phoebe. "For instance..."

As if on cue, the fire alarm went off. Sherlock followed Irene's eyes as they went to the large mirror above the mantel.

"On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child," Sherlock said as he turned to the mirror. "Amazing how fire exposes our priorities."

Phoebe stood up as Sherlock pressed a button under the ledge of the mantelpiece. The mirror lifted to reveal a hidden safe with a keypad. Irene stood as well, shocked.

"I really hope you don't have a baby in here," Sherlock said before looking at the safe. "Alright, John, you can turn it off now."

The alarm kept blaring so Sherlock looked to the door.

"I said you can turn it off now," Sherlock repeated.

"Give me a minute!" John called from outside the door.

Phoebe heard the alarm shut off abruptly, but she just looked at the keypad on the safe as Sherlock tried to figure out the code.

Sherlock let out a hum as he scanned the buttons on the keypad. "Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposit is always on the first key used, that's quite clearly a three, but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read."

Phoebe glanced at Irene and saw a playful grin crossing her lips. They had missed something.

"I see from the make that it's a six-digit code. Can't be a birthday. No disrespect, but clearly you were born in the eighties and eight's barely used, so-" Sherlock continued, but was cut off.

"I'd tell you the code right now," Irene started as she walked toward the window before turning to look back at Sherlock. "But you know what? I already have."

Sherlock's brows furrowed and he glanced to Phoebe who shook her head, not having any idea.

"Think," Irene spoke smoothly before the door burst open, three men coming into the room with guns.

"Hands behind your head, on the floor, keep it still!" The head man said, clearly an American. He walked over to Sherlock, his gun pointed straight at the detective's chest as John was pushed into the room at gunpoint.

"Sorry, Sherlock," John said shakily as he was pushed down on his knees beside where Phoebe was also put on her knees quite roughly.

"Miss Adler, on the floor!" The man ordered and one of his men pushed Irene over to John and Phoebe, pushing her down to John's right.

"Do you want me on the floor too?" Sherlock asked the man with an amused face, his hands behind his head.

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe," the man, who Phoebe promptly decided was named Dickolas, said to Sherlock.

"American. Interesting. Why would you care?" Sherlock questioned as he studied the man, glancing at Irene who was looking at him intently.

"Sir, the safe, now, please," Dickolas pushed, getting impatient.

"I don't know the code," Sherlock replied plainly.

"We've been listening. She said she told you," Dickolas said, not believing Sherlock for a moment.

"Well if you've been listening, you'll know that she didn't," Sherlock responded.

"She really didn't. He's not lying," Phoebe piped up.

"Shut up! Don't try and interfere, Miss Hunt," Dickolas growled, not looking at the brunette and Sherlock fought the urge to punch the man.

John looked at Phoebe and she just closed her mouth, keeping her eyes on Sherlock.

"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you didn't, Mr Holmes," Dickolas spoke harshly.

"For God's sake, she's the one who knows the code! Ask her!" John shouted, feeling very antsy with a gun pointed at the back of his head.

"Yes, sir, she also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman," Dickolas said, only giving John a short glance, not wanting to take his eyes off Sherlock in case he tried anything.

"Mr Holmes doesn't know-" Irene tried to butt in.

"Shut up!" Dickolas scoffed. "One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be hardship."

Phoebe sucked in a sharp breath and Sherlock stared at Dickolas with a stone face. He knew that this man wasn't afraid to kill to get what he wanted.

"Mr Archer, at the count of three, shoot Dr Watson," Dickolas ordered and John stiffened.

"What?" John started to panic.

"I don't know the code," Sherlock said, trying not to let his own panic be known as Mr Archer pushed his gun into the back of John's neck.

"One."

"I don't know the code," Sherlock persisted.

"Two."

"I don't know what the code is," Sherlock continued, not letting up and Dickolas hummed.

"Mr Wall, at the count of three, shoot Miss Hunt," Dickolas said which elicited and barely audible whimper from Phoebe as the gun was pressed against the back of her head. "One."

"She didn't tell me the code. I don't know it!" Sherlock shouted, his eyes wide.

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now," Dickolas said as Phoebe closed her eyes, trying to hide her fear. "Two."

Sherlock looked at Phoebe and then at Irene, seeing her glance down. Then it hit him.

"Three."

"No, stop!" Sherlock shouted quickly and Dickolas quickly put up his hand to stop both men from firing.

Sherlock slowly turned to the safe and carefully punched in the numbers.

322434

Phoebe breathed heavily as the gun was pulled off of her head, allowing her to relax only slightly.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please," Dickolas commanded and Sherlock turned the nob, taking a glance at Irene.

Irene saw him look at her so she quickly looked at the ground and he understood immediately.

"Vatican Cameos!" Sherlock announced to which John immediately pushed Phoebe to the ground.

Sherlock opened the safe and ducked immediately as the gun inside was triggered. The bullet bounced off the side of the safe and ricocheted, killing Mr Archer. Sherlock turned and used the surprise of the moment, ripping the gun from Dickolas.

Irene elbowed the man behind her where the sun don't shine and Phoebe corkscrewed, taking down Mr Wall. He hit his head on the floor and fell unconscious.

Sherlock smacked Dickolas in the head with his gun and then turned to see Irene now pointing a gun at the man she had taken down. Phoebe was up as well, grabbing the gun from Mr Wall.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock shook out his arms a bit.

"Not at all," Irene replied before she knocked out the man.

Sherlock swiped the phone out of the safe and slipped it into his pocket.

"He's dead," John said after feeling for Mr Archer's pulse.

"Thank you," Irene said with a grin. "You were very observant."

"Observant?" John questioned as he looked at Irene.

"I'm flattered," Irene continued, giving Sherlock a look that made Phoebe feel uncomfortable.

"Don't be," Sherlock replied, knowing what she meant.

"Flattered?" John was so confused and Phoebe just shook her head.

"There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping an eye on the building," Sherlock said before making his way out of the room, Phoebe and John quickly trailing behind him.

"We should call the police," John spoke as they walked out of the house.

"Yes," Sherlock replied before he shot five bullets into the air. "On their way."

"For God's sake," John scoffed as Sherlock went back inside.

"Oh, shut up, it's quick," Sherlock brushed it off and went back to the living room to see Irene turning away from the safe. "Check the rest of the house, see how they got in."

John immediately went to go look and Phoebe went with him.

"Well, that's the knighthood in the bag," Sherlock said as he tossed up the camera phone and then caught it.

"Oh, and that's mine," Irene said as she held out her hand for the phone.

Sherlock turned the phone on but it was locked.

I AM
__ __ __ __
LOCKED

"All the photographs are on here, I presume?" Sherlock said as he looked at the screen.

"I have copies, of course," Irene lied as she kept her hand out.

"No, you don't. You'll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection," Sherlock replied, looking back up at her. "Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."

"Who said I'm selling?" Irene questioned as she watched the detective carefully.

"Well, why would they be interested?" Sherlock asked, referring to the three men currently unconscious, or dead in Mr Archer's case, on the floor. "Whatever's on the phone, it's clearly not just photographs."

"That camera phone is my life, Mr Holmes," Irene said seriously as she walked over to him. "I'd die before I let you take it. It's my protection."

"Sherlock!" Phoebe called from the stairs.

"It was," Sherlock replied, turning to go see what Phoebe needed.