Why Fireflies Flash

Crumbling Like Pastries

Caroline Castigliano Bridal Boutique

"I never understood marriage," Anabeth says as she looks into the window of the shop.

Alfie rolls his eyes. "You weren't saying that before."

"Before I was a foolishly naive teenaged girl. Lust and hormones ruled my mind. Love was just a word that made my heart race." She shrugs and walks around to the back. "Now, it's pointless. Who needs a marriage? All it is, is a formal ceremony in which so called friends and family dress up and watch you share words. Unless you go for a more civil union. Still, the thought's shallow at best. If you need a piece of paper to tell you that your significant other loves you, you have issues."

"Love," Sherlock says as he jogs ahead to the door, "is a dangerous disadvantage, Miss Quinn."

"Certainly," Anabeth agrees. "For someone like us. Too many people are after us. We share a common enemy. Imagine if Moriarty figured our weaknesses." She chuckles as she pushes him out of the way and picks the lock. She shoves the door open and pulls her pistol from the small of her back as she slowly creeps in.

Sherlock follows her closely, Alfie goes off in search of the alarm system (which isn't that far from the back door) and John's all but disappeared from the group. Probably still back at the crime scene with Lestrade.

"You were the sniper," Sherlock says the moment they're alone.

Anabeth sighed. "You were never in any real danger. Not from me at least. Moriarty had no intentions of killing you there. Either of you. Of course things never go as planned."

"So you're working for him?"

She shrugs. "Like I said, I found my in."

"As a sniper?"

"No." Anabeth turns around abruptly, causing Sherlock to nearly run into her. "The sniper thing was an added bonus, one he already knew. He finally trusted me enough to put me in charge of something." She rolled her eyes. "I broke that trust by leaving my position and meeting you at Bart's. We're not exactly good friends."

In a flash, she's around the corner and disappeared.

The note was pinned a ball gown in the showcase room, nearly lost in the folds of fabric.

You're tough to trick. Even on base you were tough to trick. By now you've got to have narrowed it down to just a few suspects. Me as one of them no doubt. I found it all too suiting to drag you here. There's a dress, a beautiful red gown, in the fitting rooms. It should fit. You'll need that for when you take the stage. Tomorrow night perhaps? There is an open mic night at the very same bar Sherlock Holmes was drugged in the night you met.

Good luck.

221c Baker Street

"I can't do it."

"Ana, you have got to be kidding me!" Alfie shouts to the pacing woman. "You're going to let innocent people die, when you could just sing and get it over with?"

"People die all the time. Last year, 2,468,435 people died in the US alone."

"Anabeth listen yourself! This isn't you! This has never been you. No, you don't care. You haven't for a long time, but you've never allowed innocent people to just die." Alfie shakes his head. "You've taken lives deliberately. You've kidnapped. You've tortured. But none of those people were good people."

"You're wrong," Anabeth breathes. "All of it. The mental anguish I've put people through, because in their eyes they were good, surpasses anything good I have ever done. I have taken innocent lives. I have captured innocent people. And yes, I even tortured them. You don't know the horror I have done these past six months."