"I do wish you'd knock," Jim said, on hearing Sebastian's heavy footfall in his office. "One of these days I'll be performing a task that requires the utmost level of concentration and it's so hard to concentrate with you trampling about."

Sebastian laughed. "What are you up to that's so important?"

"Everything I do is important, Moran. Right now, I'm thinking." Jim turned around, his back to the large window, to see Sebastian dangling a black leather wallet from a strap on his burly wrist. He smirked. "I asked you to pin up an eviction notice and you've returned with a man's wallet."

"A dead man's wallet."

"It all ran smoothly then?"

"Like clockwork," Sebastian replied, dropping the wallet on Jim's desk. They both sat down in unison; Jim in his office chair and Sebastian on the settee. Sebastian shot Jim a smile and Jim couldn't help but notice the gentle and good-natured man behind it. He always did – Sebastian was the last person on earth anybody would suspect of being a cold, hard killer.

Jim flicked open the wallet. He discarded three twenty-pound notes, an oyster card and several receipts on the floor until it was empty, bar a credit card.

"Good," he drawled, sliding the card from its pocket. "You've done a good job here, Moran - this should give us all the information we need. How many bullets?"

"Just the one, boss."

"Mr Precision!" Jim grinned. "How I wish I could say the same about your handling of knives. Poor Ethan. You made him suffer."

Sebastian folded his arms and leant back on the sofa. "You told me not to use a gun. You know… he's been on the news a lot lately."

"You've no need to worry. Everyone thinks it was Mattius. We got him to admit to it. He's been locked up. All fine." Jim began to study the credit card from the wallet and said, "Give our client a call. Tell him 'mission complete'."

Sebastian nodded, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. Jim spun around in his chair to face the window again, when he spotted a familiar figure hurrying down the street towards the house. Petit lapin. Her bag clutched to her chest, she fought against the wind with her head down, walking quickly. Jim feigned sincerity – but he struggled to resist smiling. He stood up.

"Looks like our eviction notice worked!" he said to Sebastian, straightening his tie.

Jim opened the door to Maria before she'd even had a chance to ring the bell.

He greeted her with a suppressed smile and it has been a while, Maria. Besides, it had been – the last time he'd seen her was at 221B Baker Street. Before her life had crumbled with the death of her 'other half'. Puppy love, Jim thought. Could people not see how terribly idiotic it was to rely on another meagre, breakable, undependable human being and call it love?

Maria was paying the price.

"Could I come in?" She paused and looked up at him with tired, heavy eyes. "Please."

Jim took great pleasure in leading her through the grand hallway in the same way that he had with Ethan. He kept his eyes fixed on the door to the dining room, but they stopped at the elevator and stepped in together, Maria with her arms folded and eyes averted from Jim, hopelessly unaware that she was only a few metres away from the unidentified crime scene.

"So, why has it been so long since we last saw one another?" he asked, leaning back against the mirrored wall. He'd perfected the art of deceit.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Do you even need to ask?"

"Yes."

"You don't watch the news?"

"No."

She glanced at him, incredulously, before the doors of the lift silently opened. Jim pursed his lips and gestured with one hand – Maria led the way this time towards his office. He walked at a distance behind her, a dark silhouette floating along the panelled wall.

Sebastian smiled at her as she stepped into the office. Maria greeted him with a small wave in return. Jim assumed his seat at his desk whilst she stood clumsily near the door, her hands clasped in an awkward knot. Jim tried not to bark the demand as he told her to sit down, but she perched on the end of the sofa beside Sebastian with such apprehension that it looked like he'd scolded her anyway.

"What's been going on then?" Jim asked.

Maria looked at Jim with a fleeting air of confidence that he so enjoyed – it was alluring in a way that gratified him to no end. "In short, Mr Moriarty, we haven't seen each other in so long because my partner – how you haven't heard of him with the amount of news coverage is unbelievable – was murdered." She closed her eyes for a moment, her bottom lip trembling. Her poise faltered again as she muttered, "And I've just been evicted from my home because I can't pay the rent anymore."

Jim watched her carefully, unable to look surprised. Sebastian was watching him. He knew what the look meant but he merely shrugged at the sniper. He couldn't lend Maria any sympathy – primarily because it was his own doing, partly because he didn't sympathise, and even if he had, he'd never pitied a soul in his life. Not Sherlock – certainly not his petit lapin. He wouldn't have been able to provide a shoulder to cry on if his life depended upon it.

Sebastian patted her leg awkwardly with his large hand, but recoiled it almost as quickly. "That's awful, Maria," he said. "Really awful. I'm sorry – we're sorry."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Go and get her a drink, Moran."

Maria only looked at Jim once Sebastian had left the room. A strange ambience arose without him. Outside, dusk had arrived as the sun settled behind the city skyline.

"What happened to your boyfriend?'"

"I really don't want to talk about it, if I'm honest," Maria said. "Look on the news. It's all there."

"Do they know who did it?" Jim pressed.

Maria rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I don't know. They arrested a man – Mattius Gopaul – but… it wasn't him. Or at least that's what I've been led to believe."

Jim remained silent, waiting for the name to spill from Maria's lips.

"Mr Holmes thinks that they've got the wrong man. His team is taking over the investigation. I don't know a lot else. They said they'd be in touch." She bit her lip. "But Jim, that's not why I'm here. I wanted to talk to you about –"

"Money, I know." Jim nodded at her and stood up. "I'll be back in just a moment. Make yourself comfortable."

He strode out the room before Maria had a chance to answer, closing the door behind him and went to find Sebastian in the kitchen. He was stood beside the counter, pouring whiskey into a hand cut crystal tumbler.

"I wasn't sure what to get her," Sebastian said, smiling at the bottle. "In my experience, vodka makes women emotional drunks so I just went with Glenfiddich."

"You clearly don't know how much a bottle of that costs," Jim replied, clenching his jaw as the expensive liquid splashed at the bottom of the glass. "Listen, Moran – do not let Maria leave this building. Not tonight. Sherlock's on the case."

"Already?" Sebastian took a sip of the drink, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Impressive."

"Indeed. Give me that – go and lock the doors."

Jim took the glass from Sebastian, as well as the carefully sculpted bottle from the counter, and made his way back into the office. Maria had composed herself on the sofa and Jim thought he caught the start of a smile at her lips when she looked at the bottle in his hand.

"I thought by 'drink' you meant tea or coffee," she said lightly, as she took the glass from Jim.

He sat down beside her. "Do you like whiskey?"

Maria contemplated for a moment and then smiled at him. "No. But I'd drink anything right now."

"So – money."

"I've got nothing-"

"I'm not surprised. Your pay packets have been stacking up over here. But you haven't been to collect them."

"No, I'm sorry. But I'm glad they're here."

Jim leant forward. "It won't be enough to pay your rent though. And I'm afraid I can't lend you that sort of money. I just can't."

Maria nodded at him understandingly, the long strands of blonde hair around her face illuminated by the golden light streaming through the window. As she took a long swig of whiskey, Jim thought she looked beautiful. "I know. It doesn't really matter how much it is, just as long as I can afford to eat. I'll sort out the flat later."

Jim didn't need to ask her when the last time was that she'd had a proper meal. He could tell from the gauntness of her already thin features that it had been a while.

"You could stay here tonight," he said firmly – it was hardly a suggestion or a request, but an order.

Maria snapped her head up, her pale eyes startled. "Oh, I really don't think that's necess-"

"It wouldn't be any trouble. I've got quite enough room. You can eat, have a good night's rest and we'll sort out what you've earned in the morning. Besides, it's getting late."

Maria sipped her drink again. "The offer is kind Jim, but please, don't worry about me. It's time I was heading off, anyway."

"Where do you think you're going to go tonight, Maria?"

"Well, I can go back home for now, the flat's still mine-"

"To a cold house? With no food? Good idea, you think?" He smiled at her. "At least stay for something to eat."

Jim and Sebastian emerged from the dining room a few hours later, Sebastian carrying Maria in his arms. She looked birdlike against his large frame - her head lolled against his chest and she breathed slowly, her mouth slightly agape and her eyelids fluttering. Jim rolled his eyes and called the elevator.

"People are so easy to persuade when they're drunk, hungry or tired," he muttered flatly.

"Or all three in this one's case," Sebastian added, laughing quietly. "Where are we going to put her, by the way?"

"I thought we could just leave her here," replied Jim, his eyes scanning the lift's interior.

"Sarcasm?"

"Yes, Moran."

"I have to check with you sometimes, boss." Sebastian grinned.

Sebastian stepped out of the elevator on the third floor with Maria and made his way down the corridor towards the spare master bedroom. Jim retired to his own room on the next floor up. He had to work out what he was going to do about Sherlock Holmes – the man was sure to realise that Jim was behind Ethan's death. A clock had started ticking.