Jensen Venture stared at the clock on the wall. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The teacher was standing at the front of the classroom, giving off whatever guff he was giving off today. All of a sudden Jensen felt his phone vibrate inside his coat. Making sure no one was looking, he found he had a text. It was from Elmer. Elmer seemed to know everything before it happened. He was a sort of information broker to the pupils of Rathbone Way Secondary School. Jensen opened the text.

"SHE'S COM 2 GET U."

Wondering who "She" could possibly be, he looked out of the window. A black Citroën with tinted windows had pulled up in the car park and a woman wearing black had gotten out. Jensen evaluated the possibilities. Death? Black is usually a sign someone's died. Won the lottery? Given the expensive car, and the fact that the woman was wearing a suit, it was possible. Sherlock? It was Sherlock.

The woman knocked on the door. The teacher answered. Without speaking, the mystery woman handed Mr Jameson a note. As he read it, a grim look came upon his face. "Jensen. Jensen Venture?" He called out. "Yes sir?" There was a tone of nervousness in his voice. "Pack your bags, you're going."

"Wha-" "Don't say a word." Said the woman flatly. "You'll get your answers in due course." They got into the car. It felt like he was sitting there for ages, watching country roads pass by. He eventually decided to fall asleep, but before he could do such a thing, the driver slammed on the brakes. They had stopped. They had stopped at an expensive looking country house. "Follow me," Said the woman as she got out. As they walked towards the house, Jensen noticed a bronze plaque. The plaque read, "DIOGENES CLUB." It all seemed a bit suspicious. But after that, he couldn't remember what happened.

When he woke up, Jensen was sitting in a darkened room. He was tied to a chair. He could feel the damp coming through the cracks in the wall. Jensen guessed the room was square, maybe about 10 feet by 10. There was a steel door at the end of the room he was facing. He could hear a clock somewhere, but not see it. It was too dark. He was sitting at a wooden table. It was like something out of a war movie, the scene where they interrogate the bad guys. Just then, he saw a crack of light coming through the door. Then the door opened. The person entering was fuzzy at first, but he was clearly wearing a suit, just like the woman. The man sat down at the other end of the table. He spoke. "You will not ask questions. You will answer all of my questions truthfully and without hesitation. Do I make myself clear?" He didn't sound like a man who thought this was unusual. "I know my rights," Snapped Jensen. "Get me a solicitor, you can't do this to me, I'm sixteen for Christ's sake." The man was grinning. "I disagree, Mr Venture. I can do this to you. Any solicitor will be powerless to stop me. Besides, I'm not here to hurt you. I want answers. Nothing too personal. Now, do I make myself clear?" He said this with a slight tone of glee in his voice. Jensen nodded. "Good. Now, I am going to tell you my name. It may sound familiar, but say nothing. And don't mention this name outside this room. You signed the Official Secrets Act, remember?" Jensen didn't remember, but the strange man showed him a document. Yep. Official secrets act. And there, at the bottom in crystal clear black and white, was his signature. He was silently wondering what manner of despicable things they had done to him. "My name is Mycroft Holmes." Said the man.

"Question number one. Are you Jensen William Venture, of 46 Manchurian Way, London?"
Jensen nodded. He hated his full name. He thought it was a bit too middle class.
"Question number two. Have you, at any point prior to the apparent suicide of the subject, Met Sherlock Holmes?"
Jensen again nodded.
"What was the nature of your encounter?" Mycroft asked.
"I sent him an email asking him to solve a robbery at my house." The boy began. "I thought it was a bit of a joke, to be honest. But he turned up. Said it was a slow day and that he would be in and out in 5 minutes. He was telling the truth."
"How did he solve it, and what was his conclusion?" Mycroft seemed more and more intrigued.
Jensen explained. "He asked what had been taken. I told him it was the car, and he immediately set to work. He saw traces of oil around the spot the car keys were before they were taken. He said that he could smell booze in the air, more specifically Harp Lager. He asked me if there were any mechanics in the area, and I told him there was one down the street. We went down there, and sure enough he was trying to sell it to some guy. Sherlock said it was the easiest money he had ever made. That guy got arrested for grand theft auto and they found a load of drugs in his flat."
"How long ago was this?" Asked Mycroft.
"About 6 months."

"Okay, then." Answered Mycroft. His face changed. It had an almost sad look about it now.
"Last question. Have you, Jensen William Venture, at any point after the apparent suicide of the subject, met, observed, or otherwise encountered the man known as Sherlock Holmes?"
"I have not." Came the simple reply.
At this point, two men entered the room and freed Jensen from his chair. Mycroft looked almost disappointed. "Then you are free to go." Jensen did so. Had, however, he turned around; he would surely have seen the silent man sitting in the corner. "Well, then." Said Mycroft. "That was the first person. What do you think?" "Irrelevant." Replied John. "It doesn't tell us anything. I was away during that case."

Mycroft looked disappointed. "Alright." He sighed. He reached for a microphone. "Did you record all that?" "Affirmative." Replied the invisible voice.

"Then send in the next one."