Moriarty and Sherlock rounded the corner of the street. Making sure they weren't seen by any constables they made their way to the door. This was the house of one of the professors they believed the princess was targeting. Moriarty nodded to Sherlock, who then knocked on the door.

It was soon opened, not by a housekeeper as expected, but by a woman. One whom Moriarty quickly deduced to be of good social standing, but she didn't look taken back, more curious than shocked.

He studied her quietly for a moment, his sharp eyes taking in the details the way he always did—the quality of the fabric of her dress, the careful way she held herself, the faint crease between her brows that suggested concern rather than fear. He tilted his head slightly, glancing past her toward the hallway behind her before looking back at her face. Sherlock shifted beside him, impatient as ever, but Moriarty remained perfectly composed. He folded his hands loosely behind his back and offered the woman a small, polite smile. “Good evening,” he said calmly. “Forgive the intrusion, but we were hoping to speak with Professor —.” He paused just slightly, watching her reaction closely before finishing the sentence. “It’s rather important.”