Madeline Sector was a quiet woman. A simple maid or servant hood. She was not the kind that would gossip a long while with a friend, or dress wildly in vibrant, frilly dresses. Neither was she the kind of woman to draw attention to herself, or become involved in any sort of outlandish talk... until, that is, she heard the scheme. She had entered the Brighton's dining room with a fresh pot of tea while Mr. Brighton and his wife were talking.

"What is your plan? You know that Holmes is no ordinary man. One miscalculation and it will be you in that coffin instead of Holmes." Mrs. Brighton raised an eyebrow, stirring her tea.

Mr. Brighton smirked, stroking his curled mustache. "Moriarty and I have it all planned out, my dear. Never fear, when the bell tolls at midnight, we will take down Holmes and his petty little sidekick before they know what hit them." His smirk was replaced by a scowl when he mentioned their names.

It was all Ms. Sector could do to keep from spilling the tea as she heard this. She forced herself to exit the room calmly, despite the panic rising in her.

A war arose inside of her. Should she warn the great detective? Or sit idly by, refusing to meddle with such dramatic things? She stumbled through the rest of her duties, and received a good scolding from Madam Brighton after she accidentally tipped over the wash bucket. When she was allowed to return to her home, a wave of relief washed over her. She walked briskly down the lamp-lit street, trying to push down the thoughts that kept arising in her mind.

Only when she passed by Sherlock's office did she stop. She stared at the sign, guilt rising in her chest. How could she possibly do nothing when a good man's life was at stake? Mustering up her courage, she strode across the street, and knocked on the door. It took only a few moments before a man appeared in the doorway. He had an unruly mess of brown hair atop his head, a pipe in his mouth, and a peculiar look on his face. Further back in the room, Ms. Sector noticed a younger man with lighter - but no less disheveled - hair and a long mustache.

"Madam, please come in." Detective Holmes said, stepping out of the doorway. Somewhat reluctantly, Ms. Sector complied. After the door was shut, Holmes turned to her.

"Whatever is the matter? It's unusual to see a woman such as yourself out so late as this."

Ms. Sector's eyes darted from Watson to Holmes as she replied, "I... I've heard a plot, detective... a... a plot involving Moriarty..."

Holmes raised an eyebrow and glanced at Watson. "Do continue." He urged.

"I overheard the plan as I was pouring tea in the Brighton's dining hall... Mr. Brighton said that he and Moriarty were going to... well... I don't know exactly... but they are most definitely out for your head."

"And did you happen to hear when exactly they are planning to do this?" Watson spoke up.

Ms. Sector hesitated, wracking her brain for any sort of memory.

"When the bell tolls!" She said at last.

Holmes flipped open his pocket watch and showed Watson. "That's in a quarter hour's time..." he mumbled.

"If this plot is indeed real, we must act quickly. Watson, grab the maps." He continued, striding over to the shelves and picking off a few books.

He turned back to Ms. Sector. "If you don't mind, madam, I'd like you to stay with us until after this plan is carried out." He looked to Watson who met his gaze with a look Ms. Sector couldn't read. "For your safety, of course." Holmes added quickly.

******

Rain splattered the street as Ms. Sector hurried along after the two detectives. They had been most adamant that they rid the room of all valuable items before finding a place to observe. Holmes marched over to a stack of crates and motioned for Ms. Sector to follow. Watson headed off in another direction at a much more hurried pace. A few minutes later, a long toll split the otherwise silent air.

It didn't take long before five black-cloaked figures appeared from the darkness, hurrying forward. A torch was lit, the window was broken, and flames soon hungrily licked the building. Holmes frowned and Watson groaned.

The five figures rushed into the burning building, clubs in hand. They soon exited, looking flustered and disappointed. A sixth figure stepped out from the shadows, looking particularly angry. Detective Holmes leaned close to Ms. Sector and whispered in her ear.

"Don't move. Stay here." He rose to his feet. The sixth figure stared at him, then clenched his fists.

"Running away... that's your newest tactic, is it, Holmes?" Moriarty sneered, his dark expression matching his black clothing.

"I'd like to think of it as outsmarting." Holmes retorted with a smirk.

Moriarty seemed to relax slightly. He smirked a cold, cruel grin. "Well, Holmes... it would seem that you are outnumbered six to one... I am sorry to say that I don't think your wits can save you this time." He turned to the other five men. "Get him." He snapped.

Just as they began to March forward, a sharp whistle split the air, followed by footsteps. Lots of them.

Around the corner came Watson, and behind him, about thirty men in uniform. Moriarty's smirk was quickly replaced by a look of horror.

******

"We are truly indebted to you, Ms. Sector." Detective Holmes said with a polite bow.

"Don't bother yourself. It was nothing. Anyone with a sensible head on their shoulders would've done the same thing." Ms. Sector replied.

"My companion and I were wondering, Ms. Sector... would you be willing to spy on the Brighton's for us?"

Ms. Sector hesitated. To spy would mean to leave her life of simplicity behind... and yet... it would mean freedom.

She smiled.