The two walked through the train together and went to the first class carriage where their cabin was located.
Sherlock went to grab the handle only to find it locked. He looked inside to see John resting with a scowl on his face, hat pulled over his eyes.
The detective grumbled and turned away from the door. "Fine, then. Food it is."
Phoebe clicked her tongue as she turned to follow Sherlock towards the dining car.
"I'm sure he'll come around, Sherly. You just have to give him time," Phoebe said as she glanced up at the man beside her.
"If you ask me, he's the one being childish," Sherlock scoffed.
"He has every right to be cross with you," Phoebe replied as she bumped into him purposefully. "You need to learn to be more respectful."
"But I-"
"I'm not listening to your excuses. Now, come on. I would like to eat if you don't mind."
"Yes, ma'am," Sherlock huffed, walking into the dining car with her.
They were met by a waiter who led them to the first table.
"Will this table do, sir?" The waiter asked Sherlock who shrugged.
"Yeah," he said carelessly as he slipped into the booth, picking up a menu as Phoebe sat opposite to him.
"Confound him. He's like an old maid. Lecturing me," Sherlock continued to grumble which earned him a kick from under the table.
"He has every right to worry about you and get upset when you don't take care of yourself," Phoebe said as she picked up her own menu.
Sherlock looked up at her to reply before something caught his eye. He perked up as a smile spread across his face.
He shot out of his seat. "I'm switching tables!"
"Sherlock?" Phoebe put her menu down as she stood to follow him. "What are you-?"
She saw the table he had gone to, walking over as well.
"Well, now. Professor. What are the odds?" Sherlock spoke as he sat down in the booth opposite William, next to who Phoebe could only assume was the youngest of the three Moriarty brother's.
"I remeber. You and I met while we were aboard the Noahtic," William said as he gave a small smile.
"The name's Sherlock," the detective reminded as he looked at the professor intently.
"Yes, and Miss Hunt, a pleasure to see you again ass well. Please, sit," WIlliam said as he moved over for Phoebe to sit beside him.
She bowed her head slightly before sliding into the seat beside him.
"I was unaware that you two knew each other," William said as he looked between Sherlock and Phoebe.
"Yes, I've known Phee practically my whole life. She was the second opinion I told you about," Sherlock said to which Willaim nodded. "She had my complete faith."
"And he was the one I mentioned who had taught me that magic trick," Phoebe added with a smile. "I hadn't expected to see him on the Noahtic, but I'm quite glad."
"I would say so. You look much happier than when I saw you last. And Sherlock, you're quite famous these days. I recently read in the newspapers how you solved the case of Lord Drebber's murder," William said while Louis seemed to study Sherlock's features, as if trying to read his thoughts.
"That is the real mystery. My intention was for Lestrade to take all the credit for it," Sherlock replied as he looked at the professor. "Euther a reporter sniffed out the truth, or someone leaked it."
"And that's a problem?" William asked, a lok of joy on his face. "As a result, your fame as a detective has grown. Isn't that good for business?"
"It pays, yes. But between us, I'm not muchinterested in all those dull, tuppenny-ha'penny cases. What fascinates me is-"
"Pardon me, but we were finishing our meal. Perhaps sometime later, you-" Louis cut SHerlock off, only to be cut short himself.
"But you haven't even been served your desser or digestif yet."
"Sherlock, it was quite rude of us to come over here uninvited," Phoebe said as she gave him a lopsided grimace.
"Alright then, permit me to bend your ear for a minute," Sherlock requested as he leaned against the table.
"By all means, please. We were just complaining about how we were growing bored," William allowed, keeping his hands folded in front of him on the table.
"You see, I went to York to investigate a case, only for it to end up being a total bust," Sherlock explained to which Phoebe snorted a light laugh.
"Well, that certainly is a pity," William said, grabbing his glass to take a sip of water.
"A damn shame. And get this- I was convinced it was another in a series of deaths involving noblemen," Sherlock replied.
"There's a series of them?" William questioned, straightening up in his seat.
"Yes," Sherlock answered. "Two of them so far. And both have commonalities I believe link them together. The victims, Enders and Drebber, were aristocrats. Aditionally, their scandals and misdeeds were brought to the public's attention. And in glorious fashion, I might add. But there's one other trait they share. In both cases, a mastermind was operating behind the scenes."
"To the first point, it doesn't strike me as particularly solid," William started as he broke apart Sherlock's analysis of the events. "Two similar events reveal a coincidence, not a pattern. Second, the existence of this mastermind- isn't it merely your own presumption?"
"Well, you'd be correct, except my suspicions were recently confirmed. This individual made me a proposal, extended via Jefferson Hope," Sherlock replied to which Phoebe nodded in confirmation. "A most interesting one. If I ended Hope's life, they would reveal their identity. Phoebe was there with me so she can attest."
"That is quite the off bargain," William said as he looked between Sherlock and Phoebe.
"Isn't it? But I didn't accept the terms and refused to shoot Hope," SHerlock continued to explain.
"A wise decision," William responded with a light nod.
"However, after he was taken into custody, I went to visit him, where he told me a secret," Sherlock said and Phoebe stiffened, not knowing anything about this.
She looked at Sherlock and it hit her quickly, he was saying things to get a reaction. It was how he had gotten the confession out of Diana Maybourne.
"He felt compelled to reveal to me who his benefactor was. The name of the mastermind," Sherlock said with a slight smirk. "To my shock, the person he named is sitting here. William James Moriarty."
Phoebe watched as Sherlock pointed at the older of the Moriarty brother's that were present. She looked to William, not seeing any reaction on him face, and only a look of shock on the younger brother's face, who she assumed was Louis based on her conversation with William over dinner on the Noahtic.
"I confess that you've made a most amusing assertion," William started. "However, it is impossible to prove something I did not do. And besides, the burden of proof would be your responsibility seeing as you're the detective."
Sherlock dropped his hand and a hearty laugh pushed its way through his lips. He leaned back against the booth with his arms resting on the ledge. Phoebe couldn't help but smile at the sound of joy coming from her friend.
"A joke! I'm kidding! There's a case of probatio diabolica. Too good! Really!" Sherlock wass grinning from ear to ear as he brought his head back down. "However, if you were indeed this mastermind, just how would you reply in this instance?"
William smiled as he closed his eyes before leaning back against the booth, throwing his left arm up on the ledge as a smirk crossed his face.
"Come and catch me if you can... Mr Holmes."
Sherlock brightened up as his smile only got bigger.
"Yes, I suspect you would derive satisfaction at hearing those words, detective," William said as he rested his hand on his cheek.
Another laugh bubbled from Sherlock which made Phoebe's heart flutter and she looked down, almost panicked by the feeling.
"You really are one of a kind," Sherlock replied, continuing to lounge against the booth.
"Judging by your response, it sounds like my joke was well received," William said as he moved to rest his elbows on the table, his hands crossed in the air.
"Yeah! You and I are going to get alond famously!" Sherlock leaned forward on the table and then looked at Phoebe, flashing her a closed eye smile.
"Holmes. Miss Hunt," Lestrade's voice came as he walked over to them.
"Ah? So there you are," Sherlock said as he looked up at the inspector.
"Well, tell me, who might these gentlemen be?" Lestrade asked as he looked between the two brothers.
"This is the Moriarty family's second son, William, and his adoptive younger brother, Louis. Is that right?" Sherlock introduced and Louis nodded in confirmation.
"Please, excuse the interruption. I am Detective Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, at your service," Lestrade introduced himself.
"The Lestrade? It's and honor, sir," William said with a smile.
Phoebe was about to speak when there was a scream from another carriage.
The four sitting at the table shot up and joined Lestrade in racing towards the sound of the scream.
They came across a woman who was standing in front of a door, looking through the window iin absolute horror.
"What's wrong?" Lestrade asked the woman immediately.
"Well, i heard a loud sound in the neighboring compartment just moments ago," the woman started, terror written all over her face. "And when I looked through the window I saw..."
Lestrade took a look throught the window and gasped at the gruesome sight.
"Doors locked," Lestrade said as he tried openeing the cabin. "Holmes, this can't be good."
Sherlock took a look through the compartment with a frown. "Yeah. Very dead. Have a look."
William stepped forwards and took in the scene before him
"It was quite clearly a murder," Sherlock said and Phoebe stepped towards the door.
"Murder?" Lestrade looked to Sherlock in shock.
"I'm not so sure it's a sight for a lady such as yourself," William said as he looked to Phoebe.
"Please, I'll be okay," Phoebe brushed it off and Sherlock chuckled a bit.
"She's fine, as long as she can actually see through it," Sherlock remarked, earning a swat from Phoebe.
She stood on her toes and peered through the window.
"So, William, if you don't have any pressing matters before we reach London, how about a friendly competition to see which of us finds the culprit first?" Sherlock asked as he grinned at the professor.
"Huh? You're not serious! This is a murder, not one of your games," Lestrade complained as he looked at the consultant detective.
"I accept. No doubt it'll prove entertaining. However, this case seems more complicated that at first glance," William said before another figure approached.
Phoebe turned, along with the others, and saw John standing before them, a look of horror on his features.
That's when Phoebe noticed the blood and she sucked in a breath.
"John?" Sherlock looked at him in shock.
"All right, then! What's all the fuss?" The transport police came running in from the opposite direction.
"The transport police," Lestrade said as he looked at the men.
"What's the meaning of this?" One of the police spoke as he took a look into the cabin. "Right then, we're in charge of the investigation! Arrest this man!"
"Wait a moment! This blood! It's from when someone ran into me at the loo!" John defended himself immediately. "I went back to my compartment, and after a short while, I noticed the stain. Please believe me!"
"We'll discuss it at headquarters. Now, come along," the other officer said as he grabbed John.
"Just a moment. I am Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard," lastrade said as he stepped forward.
"Oh. Their only competent detective!" one of the officers said as they looked at him in surprise.
"Right, uh, this is consulting detective Sherlock Holmes," Lestrade introduced and the officers gasped.
"In the flesh?"
"And the man whom you've cast your suspicion upon, is his friend, Doctor John H Watson," Lestrade continued and the officer who was holding John promptly let go. "Doctor Watson is not the sort of man who would commit such a heinous crime. I implore you to excerise your best judgement."
"Yes, but under the circumstances-"
"This is a waste of precious time!" Sherlock shouted as he backed the officer against the door while caging him in. "You're the ones who don't understand the circumstances, you bollocks-for-brains!"
"What do you mean by that?!" The officer asked, offended by the man's insult.
"Wake up, man! As we speak, the killer's still on the train! Unless he's leapt for a locomotive traveling to London at a hundred kilometres an hour!" Sherlock shouted as he let the man go and Phoebe put ahand on his arm to get him to calm down a little. "The next station this train stops at after leaving Doncaster will be Grantham. That's roughly eighty kilometers away. Which leaves-"
"Roughly forty-eight minutes," William cut in.
"Precisely!" Sherlock grabbed hold of the officer again as he got into his face. "If we don't discover the real murderer by then, he'll escape! Can the transport police find them? Can they?"
"Well, we'll do our best," the officer said shakily.
Sherlock grinned as he backed off, pulling Phoebe against his side as he stood beside William. "Why not put us in charge?"
Lestrade stepped forward and leaned towards the transport officer. "Holmes has actually solved a good number of cases. What do you say we leave the investigation up to him?"
"Inspector! I don't care how famous of a detective he is! This is our investigation!" The officer argued.
"This man has solved countless murders that I have taken credit for," Lestrade continued to push.
Sherlock pushed the two apart and smiled. "I'm telling you, all we require is forty-eight minutes. We'll have the whole case figured out by then! Isn't that right, Liam?"
"Yes. In fact, I suspect we won't even need the full amount of time to reach our findings," William said with a warm smile.
"Well, listen to you," Sherlock said as he turned around with a smirk.
"Although this is little more than a chance encounter, I refuse to bring shame to the Moriarty bystanding idly by," William continued.
"That sounds good to me! We've got a contest them. Who can unmask the culprit first," Sherlock said and Phoebe nodded with a smile.
"Still treating this like a damn game," Lestrade grumbled, wondering if he was going to regret this decision.
"I'll allow it. Only because Inspector Lestrade has faith in you. You'll have until we reach the next station," the head officer said.
"Much obliged," Lestrade said as he nodded.
"However, we're placing Doctor Watson in our custody until any new evidence comes to light." With that they began to lead John away.
"Sherlock..." John said as he looked back.
Sherlock clenched his eyes shut as his fist trembled. Phoebe rubbed his arm gently and gave him a weak smile.
"We'll figure this out. I know we will," she said to comfort him.
"Right, let's be quick. Time is of the essence," Sherlock said, giving Phoebe a look of appreciation before walking towards the door.
"You have read my mind," William said as he turned toward the door as well.
Sherlock felt his pocket and huffed. "I left my pin at home somewhere."
"I've got one," Phoebe said, reaching up to pull a pin out of her hair.
"Thanks, Phee," Sherlock said as he took the pin from her.
Lestrade walked over as Sherlock began opening the door.
He watched as Sherlock opened the door. "Hey, wait, you don't have a key! So how'd you open the door then?"
"Some policeman. You mean you can't even pick a lock?" Sherlock questioned as he slipped the pin into his pocket since it was too bent to go back into Phoebe's hair.
Phoebe stayed outside the room with Louis as Sherlock and William walked inside.
Sherlock gazed over the entire scene for a moment before leaning down. He noticed the whisky glass and bottle, as well as the man's case which looked like the lock had been badly scratched at.
He squated down beside the body and found some business cards in the man's jacket which he pulled out to look at.
"So that's it. Just about done here," Sherlock said as he read the cards.
"Have you found something that will lead us to the murderer, Holmes?" Lestrade asked as he peered inside the cabin.
"Yeah," the detective said as he held the card before looking back up at the body. "Here's what we know: The victim is a jeweller from London. Trevor Redwood. The killer is male. He boarded the train at the terminus in Durham. When the drugging slash robbery went awry, he knifed the victim."
"If Redwood was drugged, then that must mean murder wasn't the sole motive," Lestrade exclaimed which made everyone look at him.
"Duh," Phoebe mumbled under her breath.
"Unmistakably," William replied, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger.
"Obviously," Sherlock agreed with a deadpanned look.
Lestrade stood straight as he grit his teeth. "I give. If you wouldn't mind explaining."
"Very well, as a favor. Time is short so I shall run through this once," Sherlock replied as he turned back towards the corpse. "First off, the carpet in this compartment has two sets of men's footprints. One set belongs to the victim. The other is from the Durham man, measuring ten inches."
"What makes you say Durham?" Lestrade questioned.
"Why not ask a certain professor who resides there?" Sherlock remarked which made Lestrade glance down at William's shoes.
"Their muddied," the inspector noticed.
"Indeed. It was raining in Durham. However, since our first stop in York, the weather has been clear," William explained as he looked out the window at the blue sky.
"Now I see. So we've narrowed down the murderer's sex and the station they boarded," Lestrade said to which Phoebe nodded.
"Additionally, this is what Holmes was referring to. If you'll observe. Whisky... with a hint of more," William said as he held up the bottle and the glass that was left in the cabin. He handed Lestrade the glass that Redwood would've had his drink from. "There is still the faint lingering aroma of chloral. When mixed with alcohol, it becomes a dangerous drug which exhibits powerful soporific effects. Whatever means were used, somebody had to have laced the drink with the compound."
"But why would they dug the victim before brutally stabbing them?" Lestrade questioned and Sherlock groaned.
"Because stabbing the man wasn't the goal here. Something must've happened to startle the killer," Phoebe spoke up.
"Exactly!" Sherlock confirmed, glad to hear some common sense.
"Without a doubt, this was an unplanned murder," William said after turning back towards Sherlock. "If killing this man was the true objective, there would be no reason to do so on a train where escape would be impossible. More than likely, the culprit drugged the victim and attempted to rob him whilst he was incapacitated. Either the chloral was too weak or his tolerance too high. Regardless, he awoke during the theft. Resulting in an unexpected surprise for both. Judging from the shape of his wound the weapon was a keen blade, a knife of some sort. And from the marks left on the case, the killer tried prying it open with said knife."
"A knife, huh? I don't see one," Lestrade said as he looked around the compartment. "The murderer must've have left with it."
"The chances are quite high. When the victim awakened, a struggle ensued during which Redwood was stabbed. The amount of blood must've surprised the killer. There are indications he held his hand over the wound to stop the bleeding," William continued to explain and Phoebe clicked her tongue in thought.
"Quite so," Lestrade spoke as he looked at the blonde haired professor. "Despite there being no blood on the victim's hands, a handprint was left behind. It stands to reason he panicked and forgot the burglary all together."
"He clearly didn't attempt to hide the body. And he didn't take the briefcase or the whisky," Phoebe said as she leaned against the doorframe opposit Lestrade.
"Right," William agreed as he looked around a bit more. "The knife and key are the only things missing. All the culprit could think to do was leave the room and lock the door. The crime scene indicated that the culprit was flustered by what transpired."
"I'm in full agreement," Sherlock said as he stood up.
He turned to look at William, a grin crossing both of the men's faces before they exited the compartment.
"You're finished with the crime scene?" Lestrade questioned as he looked at Sherlock.
"Indeed. We have all that we need. Let's go, John-" Sherlock stopped before looking down with a frown. Phoebe gave him a sad smile as she looked up at him.
William pulled out his pocketwatch and checked the time. "Thirty-nine minutes remain."
Sherlock nodded as he looked at Phoebe. "Come on, Phee. Let's get this over with."