You hadn’t run to escape that jail cell. You hadn’t even bothered to cover your tracks. No disguise, no false trail, no tricks. Because why bother? Sherlock Holmes would find you anyway. He always did.

So you chose your spot carefully- a rooftop overlooking the Thames, where the city below glittered like spilled jewels, where the fireworks would paint the sky in red and gold. A night of freedom, but not rebellion. You promised yourself you’d go back when the celebrations ended. You weren’t cruel, you weren’t dishonest. You were fair.

And as you sat there, legs dangling over the edge, the bells tolling midnight, you felt it—the faint shift of air behind you, the quiet crunch of boot on gravel. He was here. Of course he was.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Sherlock asked, his voice cutting through the roar of the crowd below. Without turning your head, you smiled faintly. “Took you longer than I expected, Holmes.” That startled him- just for a moment. He’d expected you to flinch, to scramble, to act caught. But instead, you simply… spoke. Calm. Certain. As though you had been waiting for him all along. His brows knit, studying your stillness.

“You knew I’d find you.”

He responded bluntly like always. Not a question but a statement.. “Of course. You always do,” you murmured, eyes never leaving the cascade of sparks across the midnight sky. “But I told myself I’d stay until the last firework faded. Then I’d go back. No schemes tonight. No villainy. Just this.” Sherlock tilted his head, his piercing gaze tracing your profile. There was no trembling in your voice, no twitch in your hands that suggested deceit. Just honesty, simple and strange.

“Curious,”

He said at last, stepping closer.

“Most who run from chains run for good. Yet here you sit, watching fireworks like some honest citizen, promising to return to the cell I caught you for.”

You finally turned to look at him then, your eyes reflecting the glow of the sky. “You call yourself a detective, Holmes. So tell me- do I look like I’m lying?” The silence stretched between you, filled only with cheers, bells, and the thunder of light above. For the first time in a long while, Sherlock Holmes found no villainy to deduce, no crime to dismantle. Only a mystery stranger than any theft or murder he’d solved before: a soul who escaped not to sin, but simply to see.