Disclaimer: I would never dream to own them... They are ACD's.

A/N: A series of drabbles about someone doing something for the first time in their lives. This one is based on FINA. A bit OOC.

I Drove A Cab

It was with no small trepidation I climbed in the groaning vehicle; for though I had the map memorized to a loose cobblestone, and had Wilkins to re-schedule a meeting with NN due to my "indisposition", and was almost sure that no frequenter of the Diogenes would comment on my stealing out of the back door as if I wouldn't dare to enter it in broad daylight, I still harboured some doubts about this scheme of his.

A most unfortunate timing, if you ask me.

But of course, that would never stop my excitable sibling.

- Why could I not have a reliable one?

Like the cab we used to transport foreign dignitaries and State traitors.

- Pshaw, that old thing is known to every self-respectful thief this side of Thames.

He might have narrowed it down for my benefit. Regardless, I would not ask him where he procured this perfect brougham, especially since I were to leave it near the tobacconist's, Oxford Street, eleven sharp.

- If that Patterson is not there in time...

- He will be.

He better, I thought glumly. There were so many reasons for the man to not appear there at all; and while I appreciated my brother's sudden attention to my well-being, his loathing of all things bureaucratic was the reason I prayed for him to not be employed for the government -- he got in the way far too often as it were. I dreaded the moment when someone would actually inform him about things that he never really was meant to know and somehow appeared to be abreast of each time we met.

That reminded me...

- And if there is one more apple-cart you forgot to tell me about...

- I can't waste my time eradicating vendors! Do not dawdle, I trained you well enough.

The nerve of him!

Once upon a time there happened a shocking anecdote where a certain "cormorant" entertained a soon-to-be-abducted Ambassador. Granted, the resulting treaty was ridiculously profitable for the Empire, but I found it hard to forgive him for exploiting my only weakness so ruthlessly.

- You should probably not refer to that -- incident, brother mine. They say Alcatraz is no Paradise -- despite the weather and the company.

He nodded defeat. Or hid a smirk. I wondered just how often had the good Doctor had to choose a nobler explanation when chronicling their insane escapades.

When this particular one is over, I will ask for an unabridged version of the Jefferson Hope case.

- The first will be Moriarty's, naturally, and the second -- the second a safety one.

Since when did he bother?..

It was freezing out here, and the mare had all the obstinacy of an ass... perhaps this was the reason why he picked her. A stray dog leapt from under the horse's hooves. An urchin shouted profanities at my poor driving skills. A policeman whistled shrilly somewhere nearby – was I supposed to stop and wait for him? And what was I supposed to do with a drunk lying in the middle of the road? I could not very well pull him aside!

Avoid pedestrians. Slow down. Forget about the morning.

He sighed. I didn't; I was gradually suffocated by my coat. At least it was shabby enough for him. I must get myself a cloak; it would be mighty awkward to interrupt the Prime Minister with sneezes and coughs.

- Well, I think I will walk from here. No point in you being seen or tortured longer then necessary.

- I can see why you always arrive at the station in the last moment. It is deucedly far!

He quirked a smile at the image of me wandering on my own, Professor's henchmen breathing down my neck, and hopped down.

- That's a sovereign for you, laddie.

- What!

- Business is business, - I said smugly.

He dug out a coin impatiently. A shilling. No wonder London is swamped by underpaid and desperate.

- That's "gov", not "laddie" for you, Mister.

A minute passed, and then he shrugged, nodded and set off. I pocketed my fare – by Jove, I will charge Patterson twice the set price after I deposit Watson at Victoria Station and pick him up for a ride to Scotland Yard (brother must have relished the thought of a police Inspector riding in a stolen cab driven by a White Hall official).

Now, to Mortimer Street, and wait.