"Hey! Get back here!" Sherlock slammed his hand against the gate, the sound echoing like thunder in the small room.

"Sherlock, you are going to hurt yourself!"

"What does it matter?" He repeated the action, before he wrapped his fingers around the bars and focussed his eyes on the dark wall infront of him, where he had seen her...

"I didn't imagine it..." he murmured.

"I believe you, but whatever you saw it is gone now..."

"She," Sherlock corrected her, "blond hair, white dress, mask, was standing right over there," he explained, smacking the gate for a third time, hissing in pain as his hand collided with the iron bars.

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"Excuse me, could you..." Knowing that something wasn't right, Lestrade had not given up. The uncooperative staff ,however, didn't make it easy for him.

"...don't mind me," he mumbled in frustration when another waiter ignored him. Standing at the bottom of the stairs he pulled out his phone to try calling Sherlock again, when someone bumped into him, causing him to drop his phone.

"Careful there," he tuned around to check if the girl, that had come rushing down the stairs, was alright, before he picked up his phone and the book that she had dropped, but as he came up again the masked blonde had already disappeared in the crowd.

"Miss, you dropped your..." His voice trailed of as he noticed something sticking out the pages.

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"Maybe it was a rat," Molly reasoned, examining Sherlock's wrist.

"The only rat running around here is Drake, and last time I saw him he wasn't a blond girl," the detective replied, sitting on the floor, resting his back against the cold stone wall, while Molly was sitting opposite of him, trying her best not to have a nervous breakdown.

"It's not broken."

"Of course not," Sherlock angrily drew his hand back. "It was her."

"Who?"

"The girl, Drake's mistress the one he killed, or didn't..."

"Sherlock we found..."

"...someone's blood, maybe he didn't even kill her, maybe she's in on it. Who knows."

"I'm definitely not going to buy his new book," Molly said, and Sherlock couldn't help but laugh about the ridiculousness of the threat.

"That's good, very good."

"He won't get away with this," with that she crawled into his lap, and leaned in to kiss him, but he put his hand up to stop her.

"What are you doing?"

"Endorphins, natural pain killers, your wrist is looking pretty bad."

"Well you are the doctor..." he replied a smirk on his lips, as he pulled her in for another kiss. She could feel his smile widen against her lips, and this time she knew that it meant more than mere approval, but before either of them could deepen the kiss they were blinded by a flashlight.

"Do you want to be rescued now, or should I just come back later?" Lestrade teased them.

"How did you find us!" Sherlock asked, more irritated than relieved to see the Detective Inspector.

"Drake said you couldn't keep your hands off Molly, so I knew something was wrong. But apparently so was I," he tried not to laugh as the Sherlock pushed Molly off of him to get up, before he helped her up too.

Are you okay?" Lestrade asked, looking at Molly.

"We're fine," she replied blushing a little.

"How?" Sherlock asked again, "and don't tell me you also read his books."

"Here," Lestrade reached through the bars and handed Sherlock the note he had found in the book.

"It's a map," Sherlock stated.

"A girl at the party dropped it, blonde white dress, I didn't see her face," Lestrade explained as Sherlock and Molly looked at each other with wide eyes...

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"It was a joke, a little publicity stunt to promote my book. A mystery so good even the great Sherlock Holmes couldn't solve it. No one is dead, and you were never in any real danger. I'm sorry," Drake explained sitting behind his desk, flashing his best smile at Sherlock, Molly and Lestrade.

"Unbelievable," Sherlock murmured rolling his eyes while Molly held on to his arm, trying to calm him as best as she could.

"Sir, I'm sure you understand that 'I'm sorry' won't cut it. Maybe I can't arrest you for murder, but you held my friends here against their will, and that's a crime. Joke or not."

"Inspector , I'm sorry that you got involved in all of this, I admit that I took it a little too far – but my work is like a child too me. I would do anything to ensure it's success."

"How about another occupation, you'd be quite the actor..." Sherlock commented.

"Oh Mr. Holmes, you won enjoy it. I have one question though, how did you get out?"

"It's your story, I'm sure you can come up with something."

"Always a very smooth explanation, it's like I created you."

"What do you want me to do, learn to stutter?"

"Well played Mr, Holmes," with that he opened his pen, and wrote something into a copy of his book before he got up.

"I made it out to you, I hope there's no bad blood between us," he offered Sherlock his hand but the Detective ignored it.

"Too bad," Drake said, putting the book back on his desk, nodding at Lestrade as he left the room.

"He wanted me dead, this wasn't a joke," Sherlock said as soon as they were alone.

"But we have nothing except your word, and the mystery girl who might as well be a ghost," Lestrade replied.

"Sherlock?" Out of curiosity Molly had opened the book that Drake had signed for Sherlock.

"What is it?"

"Here," she showed him the dedication.

"If only you hadn't been so preoccupied..." Sherlock read it out, a smirk spreading across his lips.

"We got him."

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"Sherlock would you mind explaining what you are doing? Because, technically we need a warrant to be here," Lestrade said as Sherlock was tearing Drake's bed apart.

"You need a warrant. I'm just a consultant, I don't need anything.."

"Sherlock," Lestrade was getting impatient, and Sherlock sighed, frustrated that he had to lay it out for him.

"He walked in on us earlier, asked me if I had looked at his book, but I told him that I had been..."

"Otherwise occupied," Molly added blushing again.

"Exactly, I was too distracted to notice what was right underneath me..." Sherlock replied, kneeling on the bed, running his hand over the headboard until he found what he had been looking for.

"Walking in on you?" Lestrade commented on Sherlock's choice of words. "In his bedroom? What exactly did he walk in..." his mouth fell open as the wooden panels on the side of the bed-frame disappeared in the the ground and revealed a coffin underneath the bed.

"A little help?" Sherlock asked, holding up his hand to remind Lestrade of his bruised wrist.

"I really hope that's empty," Lestrade said helping Sherlock with the large box.

"Ready?" He waited for Sherlock's and Molly's consent before opening the lid. And what they found was more shocking than either of them could have imagined.

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"I'm telling you, it was her," Sherlock insisted as the party guests left while Lestrade's men arrested Drake. "I saw her, even with the mask..."

"Sherlock, she has been dead for at least 48 hours. Whoever you, I mean we saw, It wasn't her, unless she came back from the dead to help solve her own murder."

"Then who was it? Your men couldn't find anyone who matched the description," Sherlock replied.

"Maybe whoever it was was scared of Drake and left, we will never know."

"Mr. Holmes!" Drake called Sherlock, as a policeman was cuffing him in the middle of a swarm of press and photographers.

"What now?" Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I wanted to congratulate you. You did it, you solved the perfect murder."

"Why did you do it? You would have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for the dedication. You could have just walked out, bury the body in your basement, no one would have ever known."

"You're the detective, I'm sure you can come up with something..." Drake replied as two policemen were leading him out.

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"So when his original plan of killing you didn't work out, because the ghost rescued us, he let you win, because all he wanted was a big scandal? Even if it meant getting arrested himself?" Molly summed up what Sherlock had just explained.

"Don't say ghost Molly."

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," Lestrade interrupted the couple that was seated the backseat of his car.

"It wasn't a ghost, and that is utterly ridiculous, who said that?"

"I believe you did," Lestrade replied, receiving an angry glance from Sherlock through the rearview mirror.

"So where to? Should I drop you of at your flat Molly, or..." Lestrade asked.

"Baker Street," Sherlock cut in, squeezing Molly's hand, while Lestrade pretended not to notice, even though his smile was a dead giveaway. Whatever it was that had actually happened at the house – haunted or not – it had changed something between Sherlock and Molly. It was more than just attraction, there was a new air of respect and...

"Hey! Keep your hands where I can see them! This is a police car," Lestrade joked as the Detective wrapped his arms around the Pathologist who was resting against his side.

So that´s it! I hope you enjoyed this little mystery. And once again I hid a few references to my favorite detective stories – have fun finding them ;)

And thank you so much for all the love this story has been getting. It means the world to me! xo

Love Laura