𝕱𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝕷𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 {𝕾𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖒𝖊𝖘}

A Study in Pink XII

Drug Bust

Sherlock stood in front of the cab, pulling out the fake I.D. card with a flourish. Ivy raised an eyebrow, instantly noticing something off.

"Hey, where-where did you get this?" Ivy asked, her hand shooting out to grab the card. Sherlock held it for a second longer, smirking, before letting her pull it from his grasp.

Ivy looked down at the name on the card, her lips curling into a sarcastic smile. "Detective Inspector Lestrade, huh? That explains why he's been running around complaining about missing I.D. cards lately." She narrowed her eyes at Sherlock, who didn't seem fazed. "You know, I could report you for this. Stealing from an officer... technically illegal. You want me to let him know?"

Sherlock's lips twitched. "Yeah, I pickpocket him when he's annoying. He's never that observant. John, you can keep that one," he added nonchalantly, ignoring Ivy's threat. "I've got plenty at the flat."

John snatched the card from Ivy's hand, laughing lightly as he examined it. Ivy, however, wasn't so quick to let it go.

"You're ridiculous. One day, Lestrade's gonna realize and you'll have the whole Yard knocking on your door," Ivy warned, shaking her head.

Sherlock just grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Then I suppose you'd better tell him, Detective Sergeant."

"I just might," Ivy retorted, though her smile hinted she was amused by his antics more than she cared to admit.

John glanced between them, giggling. "Nothing, just... 'Welcome to London,'" he said, recalling Sherlock's rather underwhelming greeting to the cab passenger earlier.

Ivy laughed, joining in. "Really? That's all you could think of? Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective, reduced to 'Welcome to London' like some airport greeter."

Sherlock chuckled in response, though his attention quickly shifted as he spotted a police officer approaching the passenger who had gotten out of the cab. The man was pointing towards them, undoubtedly alerting the officer to the strange behavior.

Sherlock turned to Ivy and John, his face suddenly serious. "Got your breath back?"

Ivy sighed, glancing over at the officer. "I'd rather not get caught, so yeah, let's get out of here."

John nodded, "Ready when you are."

Without further hesitation, they took off running down the road, slipping away from the scene before the officer could catch up.

Back at 221B, they burst through the door, all breathing heavily. John hung his jacket on the hook by the door, while Sherlock lazily draped his coat over the bannister. Ivy stood in the hallway, her coat folded in her arms as she took deep breaths, trying to catch up to their frantic pace.

"Okay, that was ridiculous," John panted, leaning against the wall. Ivy was staring down at her shoes, her mind elsewhere, perhaps still processing the chase.

Sherlock, always observant, made a snarky comment. "What's with the sudden introspection, Ivy? Didn't keep up with your workout regimen?"

Ivy shot him a sharp look. "Shut it, Holmes. I saved you back there, remember? You were about to get flattened."

John giggled again, his face lighting up. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."

Sherlock smirked, throwing John a teasing glance. "And you invaded Afghanistan."

Ivy quirked an eyebrow, smirking as well. "Ah, yes, just another English coloniser in a long line of them, right, John?"

John burst out laughing, the sound infectious. After a moment, even Sherlock started to laugh along.

"That wasn't just me," John defended, though the mirth in his voice showed he wasn't really offended.

Ivy chuckled, crossing her arms. "Yeah, sure, you were just following orders, right?"

Once the laughter died down, John wiped a hand across his face and asked, "Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway."

John narrowed his eyes, clearly still confused. "So what were we doing there?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Oh, just passing the time." He met John's gaze directly, his tone slightly more serious now. "And proving a point."

Ivy, equally confused, tilted her head. "What point?"

Sherlock turned to look at her, his expression calm but loaded with implication. "John."

Before Ivy could press him further, he suddenly called out, "Mrs. Hudson! Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs."

John blinked in surprise, looking at Sherlock like he was crazy. "Says who?"

"Says the man at the door," Sherlock replied, just as someone knocked three times.

John looked dumbfounded, then hurried over to open the door. Standing outside was Angelo, smiling as he held up John's walking cane.

"Sherlock texted me," Angelo said, grinning. "He said you forgot this."

John took the cane, staring at it in disbelief. "I... I don't..."

Ivy glanced at the cane, then looked at John with raised brows. "Interesting. You didn't need that during the chase. Seems like stress has a way of making you forget all about your limp..."

John gave her a sheepish smile. "I guess adrenaline does wonders."

As he closed the door, Mrs. Hudson rushed out of her flat, her voice laced with worry. "Sherlock, what have you done?"

Sherlock, taken aback, frowned. "Mrs. Hudson?"

"Upstairs!" she cried, pointing towards the living room.

Ivy's eyes widened, knowing what it was. But before she could react, Sherlock charged up the stairs, John close behind. Ivy followed them but hesitated at the threshold, her nerves tingling with anxiety.

When they entered the living room, they found Lestrade sitting casually in an armchair, looking very much at home. His officers were combing through Sherlock's belongings, and Sherlock immediately stormed over, his anger palpable.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

Lestrade, unfazed, leaned back in the chair. "Well, I knew you'd find the case. I'm not stupid. Thanks by the way, Ivy."

Ivy stiffened, a feeling of unease washing over her. She turned, ready to walk away from the confrontation, but Sherlock's hand shot out, grabbing her shoulder and pinning her against the wall. His eyes were cold, accusing. "Why did you tell them?" he growled.

Ivy met his gaze without flinching. "It's called doing my job, Sherlock. I never made any promises to you." With a deliberate movement, she brushed his hand off her shoulder. "Law enforcement comes first. You can't just keep things like this hidden."

Sherlock glared at her for a moment before turning back to Lestrade, his fury barely contained. "You can't just break into my flat."

Lestrade gave him an innocent look. "And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat."

Sherlock waved his arm angrily at the officers. "What do you call this, then?"

Lestrade's lips curled into a smirk as he glanced around. "It's a drugs bust," he said casually.

Ivy, standing beside Lestrade, nodded. "Exactly. If you don't like it, take it up with the law."