Sherlock, John, and Lily soon exit the house through the backdoor, going into the backyard and the garden. There's a flower bed running all around the house, starting on one side of the back door and traveling to the front, which they saw when they arrived. The same is the case on the other side.
Sherlock follows this flower bed, looking closely at it, and Lily does the same, though she isn't quite sure what she's looking for. Then, Sherlock stops under a window, where there are divots in the dirt directly under it. As if someone had been standing there, and likely for a decent amount of time. Lily voices this thought. "Someone's been here."
"Precisely," Sherlock replies.
"You think it's the boyfriend Hayley was talking about?" John asks.
Sherlock shrugs. "Could be. I think this window is in the part of the house where the maid would usually be. It's also well-hidden." He points to the hedge next to the house, then the wall that juts out on the other side, where the door is. This window is back in a corner of the yard. "In the dark, you'd hardly be able to spot someone if they were standing here."
"The perfect secret meeting place," Lily says, looking in the window. The curtains are slightly parted, and she can only see white wall between them. John is looking with her, and also at the divots and the surrounding flowers, careful not to step on evidence. Lily, when she turns, sees Sherlock at the other end of the yard, near the gate that leads to the road. He's crouched, looking at it, near what Lily thinks is the latch. She starts to walk over to him, but then he straightens and heads back to the house.
"Someone opened that gate in a hurry," he says.
"Trying to make a quick getaway?" John replies.
"Most likely."
"What now?" Lily asks, finding that she hopes there's more to do. She doesn't want to go home, even though she has some things that need doing.
Sherlock thinks for a moment, then answers, "I'm going to look at the window from the other side, and then... I think I'll have a look at the safe."
They go back inside and easily find the window, which is near the kitchen and storage for cleaning supplies and the like. Where the maids, cooks, and any one else not of the family would be. Sherlock examines the sill, opens the window, and inspects it further. Finally, he closes it, then turns and moves to another window, along the same wall but into the dining room. He passes Mr. Holder on the way, who tries to get his attention. "Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes. Can you find the coronet? Mr. Holmes-"
But Sherlock is busy opening the second window, and it's harder for him to open this one. He turns to Mr. Holder, cutting him off mid-sentence. "How often do you open this window?"
Mr. Holder, confused, answers, "Well, almost never. I can't remember the last time that's been opened."
"The window over there has certainly been opened many times," Sherlock says.
"What window?" Mr. Holder asks, and Sherlock shows him. "Why would this window be opened? Who opened it?"
"I have a few guesses," Sherlock replies.
"And how does this help you find the missing piece of the coronet?"
"I need to figure out who's guilty of taking it."
Mr. Holder seems surprised. "You don't think Arthur did it?"
Instead of saying, "No," as Lily thought he would — and as she would answer herself, considering the doubts she's beginning to have and Sherlock's own opinion on the matter — he says, "Take me to the safe, Mr. Holder."
Again, Mr. Holder is surprised, but he complies, leading them all upstairs, then to the left, all the way to the end of the hall. His office is there, and the safe is in the wall.
"Where's the key your son supposedly used to open this safe?" Sherlock asks.
"It's in my drawer here," Mr. Holder replies. He opens the top drawer of his dresser in the bedroom across the hall, then pulls out a key and hands it to Sherlock.
"Is that where you always keep this key?"
"Yes."
"And was that where you found it after the safe had been opened?"
"No. It was on my desk." He points to the desk next to Sherlock, as if there were another desk in the room it could've been.
Sherlock turns to unlock the safe. It makes no noise, but the door opens. "Well, there's no question as to why that wouldn't wake you."
Then, he pulls out the Beryl Coronet.
It's exquisite, fit for a princess, sending a thrill through Lily, even with the slight bend and the broken corner. There are gems on it — green, blue, orange, red, yellow, and pink — placed on the bottom, with woven triangles of gold coming up from it, smaller gems at the points. The whole corner also goes back in a point, and the other would've too, but they wouldn't've connected. Lily thinks there might've been an inch or two between them, at least.
The child in her wants to put it on with a ballgown and play pretend like she used to, though with nothing as real and beautiful as that. Paper crowns made with child's hands, even when her parents or Liam helped, could never look like that. Then again, the paper crowns certainly hold more sentiment; they're still in her childhood home somewhere.
Sherlock holds the precious item out to Mr. Holder. "Break the other corner."
Mr. Holder looks horrified, and Lily herself can't help but wonder what in the world Sherlock is thinking. "Wh-What- break-break it?" Mr. Holder stutters.
Sherlock sees he obviously isn't going to, then turns to Lily. "Alright, Lily, you give it a go."
"Me?" she says. What is breaking it further going to do for them? Why would he ask her to do that?
"Yes, you," Sherlock replies. "You bake, don't you? And you garden. You have decent arm strength, surely. Break off the last three gems."
"I only stir and dig with my right arm," Lily replies, but she takes the coronet anyway, much to Mr. Holder's dismay. But there must be a reason.
With a slight hesitation, she grabs the corner and tries to break it off, but she will admit that she isn't using all her strength. The coronet doesn't so much as bend, either. Sherlock must see this, because, after a moment, he says, "Alright, hand it to John, let him try."
John just takes the coronet with a sigh, though he looks cautiously at Sherlock before he tries to break off the corner. It gives only a little, but that's when John stops. "It won't break off."
"Really?" Sherlock says, taking the coronet in his own hands, then clearly trying to break it with all his strength, but there's only a slight bend. "Look at that." He fixes the bend, then hands it to Mr. Holder. "I can't break it. Neither can John or Lily. It would take ages for anyone to do it alone. But if it did break, Mr. Holder, how loud do you imagine the sound would be?"
"I-I don't know," Mr. Holder replies, holding the coronet protectively.
"It would sound like a gunshot," Sherlock replies. "At least as loud as one. That certainly would've woken you, correct?"
"I suppose... but Arthur could've broken it somewhere else, where it wouldn't be heard."
"With what? His bare hands?"
"Maybe he had an accomplice."
"Who would be?"
Mr. Holder grows quiet, then says, "His friend. Robert. He's-"
"We're heard about Robert," Sherlock replies, cutting him off. "And if he's such a horrible person as to do this, why would you let him in your home? Where is now?"
"He's a charming character, I'll say that. But there's something off about him I can't quite place my finger on. As for where he is now, you'll have to ask Arthur."
"Your own flesh and blood, whom you accuse so vehemently," Sherlock practically scolds.
"I know what I saw, Mr. Holmes," Mr. Holder retorts.
"And I know there is something more going on here. I've seen and heard much more than you will pay attention to, so stuck in your own version of events. I will get to the bottom of this in time. For now, I'm going home." He starts to walk out, doing as he said, and Lily and John follow.
So does Mr. Holder. "But where are the gems?"
"I can't say yet," Sherlock replies, not looking back.
When they get in the cab Sherlock hails, Lily again in the middle, he turns to her, slightly opening his coat and reaching his hand in his pocket, pulling out something only just enough for she and John to see before dropping it back in.
Lily looks at him in shock. "Is that-?"
"The missing piece, yes," Sherlock replies, looking almost smug. He's certainly pleased with himself, to say the least.
"Why didn't you tell Mr. Holder-?" John starts.
"He irritates me," Sherlock answers. "Accuses his own son of the crime, then refuses to see or even look for any other evidence to the contrary. He's more concerned over the coronet than Arthur, that much is clear."
Lily frowns. "It bothers me, too." She's having her own doubts, what with stories not exactly matching up, the fact that Arthur hasn't spoken on another version of events, just maintains his innocence. If he's guilty, why not blame someone else? But if he's innocent, why not tell the truth?
Lily gets an idea.
"Do you think," she starts, "that, provided Arthur is innocent — which I'm inclined to think he is — he isn't telling the truth in order to protect someone else?"
Sherlock smiles at her. "I think you're certainly onto something, Lily."
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When she gets home, Lily dons her comfy clothes again and goes out to the garden and works for a bit, wishing, as she waters them, that her strawberries and raspberries were grown. However, as the man at the store said it'd take a year for anything to really grow, she'll have to settle for buying at the store for now. Her flowers, however, are coming on nicely.
She heads back inside, then resolves to sit down and email her publisher with the concept for the new book, as simple as it feels. But sometimes less is more, anyway.
It takes her a bit, but she finally gets it all written out and sent, and now she has to wait to see what her publisher thinks of a group of fairies trying to throw a party for their fairy queen. Her publisher probably won't get back to her today, so, instead, she sits for a minute, thinking on what she can do. Liam texts her, mostly updating her on the plans he has to come visit her with their parents, who want to see her new apartment; it's been hard to set a date due to Liam's job.
He also mentions the bakery, asking if she's looked at anything yet, and it hits Lily. She hasn't, and she's tried not to really think about it, either. She reminds him of the book, which should help replenish her fund, isn't even written yet.
And then, after she says goodbye to her brother, she starts thinking of strawberries and raspberries again, and then, since she's got nothing else to do, baking sounds like a good idea right now...
She's going to make some tarts.
She gets up and takes stock of what ingredients she already has, then determines she needs pistachios, cream cheese, lemons, whipping cream, and more butter, as well as the strawberries and raspberries. For a moment, she debates whether she should change or not, considering she's still wearing her gardening clothes.
They're not the most presentable, but Sherlock said she looked fine when he saw her in them...
She decides to just wear them, though she makes sure there's no dirt on her person and her hair is calm before she heads out the door.
Her ingredients are acquired with no fuss, and she quickly gets started on the tarts, making enough to share with Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, John, and Rosie.
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Mrs. Hudson was delighted when she opened the door, and she didn't seem to mind the flour and on Lily's clothes or the state her hair was probably in, making it that much easier to go up to 221B without worrying too much about how she looked.
She's there now, knocking on the door with her foot, as a plate of tarts is in her hands. John, answers the door. "Oh, hello," he says, smiling and stepping aside to let her in.
Lily walks in, explaining herself. "I didn't have anything to do today, and I wanted tarts, so... I made some."
Sherlock, sitting in his chair with his eyes closed, his hands under his chin, says nothing — doesn't even open his eyes. Lily finds this a bit odd, but she doesn't have to reflect on it long; Rosie runs up to her excitedly, trying to see what's on the plate, exclaiming her name in that delightful way children have that warms Lily's heart. "Lily!"
Lily laughs, putting the plate on the kitchen counter before she turns back around to hug Rosie, who makes it known she wants to be lifted up. Lily glances at John to see how he feels about it, then lifts Rosie, balancing her on one hip.
"What those are?" Rosie asks, pointing at the tarts, leaning towards them.
"They're mini fruit tarts. They've got tons of sugar in them."
Rosie laughs at the expression on Lily's face, and John chuckles himself before saying, "I'll get Sherlock."
A moment later, while talking with Rosie, Lily hears Sherlock say, "What?" with a bit of irritation.
"Lily's here," John replies, "with tarts."
The irritation is completely gone when Sherlock stands and sees Lily and the plate of tarts not far from her. "Hello," he says, heading straight for the plate. Rosie asks John if she can have a tart, and John tells her yes, so Sherlock, while getting his own, hands her one.
Sherlock then holds a tart out to Lily, who shakes her head. "Oh, I already had one. There's just extra so you all can have two."
"You made them, you should have two," John argues. "And trust me, none of us need two."
"I do," Rosie says, almost indistinctly since her mouth is full. John looks at her a bit sharply, but Lily just laughs.
"Sherlock and I certainly don't," John amends, now chuckling a bit himself.
"Speak for yourself," Sherlock says, also with his mouth full, and also receiving a sharp look from John.
"It's alright, John, really," Lily insists, half distracted by procuring a napkin for Rosie, who has whipped cream all over her mouth.
"No, seriously, after everything you've done for us, you can have it," John says.
"I don't even know what you're referring to," Lily replies. "Everything I've supposedly done for you, I either decided to do myself or I was a entirely happy to do anyway."
"What about the crime scene?" Sherlock pipes up, raising a brow at her.
"Everything but... the dead body was fine. I was happy to go with you and do what I could — which, I'll remind you, wasn't much — and that's that. I didn't expect, nor do I ask for repayment."
Sherlock shrugs. "If you don't eat it, I will."
Lily laughs at him, though she tries to suppress it and looks at him sternly. "That tart is for John."
"And I'm giving it to you," John says. "Who are you to tell me what to do with my tart?"
"The one that made it," Lily retorts, trying not to laugh.
"Fair," John concedes. "But, really, if you don't eat it, Sherlock will. And we both know how much he eats regular, healthy food."
Lily goes quiet, squinting at John, knowing he's got her there. Sherlock, finishing his first tart and grabbing a napkin, protests, "I eat when I'm not on a case. And when the thing I'm eating is a homemade dessert."
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but that is not healthy," Lily says, half reluctantly grabbing a tart.
"What are you apologizing for? Call it like it is," John replies, now done with his tart.
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Now there's three of you trying to make me eat something healthy."
"And so far Lily has been the only one to do it."
"Speaking of, I need to make those cookies again."
"Please tell me you're talking about the brown sugar ones," Sherlock says, and Lily, the tart in her mouth, laughs a little. She quickly ends up in the same situation that Rosie was in, whipped cream all over her face, which happened when she ate one downstairs, too.
Sherlock actually starts laughing at her, then trades her a napkin for Rosie, who proceeds to play with Sherlock's hair as they both laugh at Lily. "It's on your nose," he says, and Lily can see it, sticking up in her field of vision. She goes cross-eyed looking at it, and Sherlock laughs again.
She laughs, too, as much as she can while she tries to eat her tart without making a bigger mess. When she's done, she does her best to wipe her face, and Sherlock laughs yet again.
"You're just smearing it all over your face," he says.
John's laughing, too. "I think only about half the tart actually went in your mouth."
"I might need another napkin," Lily says, and they all laugh again. Sherlock sets Rosie down and grabs a kitchen towel for her. Lily takes it, half amused at herself and half embarrassed. She wipes her nose first, then tries to clean off the rest of her face. When she's done, she looks at John and Sherlock, silently asking if it's all gone. And by their chuckling, she knows it's not.
"There's still some on your cheek," John says, pointing, and Lily swipes at it.
Sherlock shakes his head, still chuckling. "No, it's-" he steps forward, grabbing the bottom of the towel and wiping Lily's face himself "- there."
Lily looks down, now more embarrassed, but at the very least he thinks it's funny. John does, too, apparently. "Well, since I don't think I've laughed that much in years, I can hardly consider that even. We still need to repay you somehow; you've done a good deal for us, and you hardly knew us then."
Lily shakes her head. "Really, John-"
"How about breakfast tomorrow? Sherlock and I can cook, and we'll all eat here before we go talk to Arthur," John says. Sherlock looks at him incredulously, most likely at the cooking part, and Lily laughs.
"I think that's a great idea," she says.
"And you don't have to make a thing. Sherlock and I will take care of it. We'll do it at seven tomorrow." He gets another incredulous look from Sherlock, and this one he addresses. "Alright, then, how about eight?"
"Slightly better," Sherlock replies, then turning and grabbing his second tart.
"I'll be here at eight," Lily says, then saying goodbye and heading back downstairs. She can't believe she made that much of a mess, though, to be fair, she was holding Rosie at first, and that made it a bit harder not to. At the very least it matched the state of her clothes.
But nobody really seemed to mind it but her. Sherlock clearly doesn't care about clothes; he only thinks of what's important to him at the time, and the only time it's been Lily's clothes is when he's observing her. And when he points things out, it's just to... point them out. Whatever thing she's messed up helps him deduce something about her or what she's done that day, so at least it's good for something. John and Mrs. Hudson are too nice and non-judgmental to care about Lily's clothes, and Rosie, like the other kids Lily has worked with, doesn't pay them any mind either, probably unless she would happen to think them particularly pretty.
It's only Lily, then, who worries over it, but she won't anymore. Not around them, at least.