"Sherlock have you checked your emails recently?" I ask, frowning at the unopened email in our work inbox. "Got one here from the National Art Gallery." He steps back out of the kitchen, frowning.
"What does it say?"
I click into it and skim read the letter.
"Sounds like one of their paintings was stolen from the auction house yesterday," I reply. "Quite a high profile one as well - could get us quite a bit of work in."
"Anything else on?" he asks and I click back to the inbox.
"Nothing," I reply, shaking my head. "It's this or staring at the wall for the next week."
"At least this will be a brief respite," dad says and I smile. "What's the name of the painting?"
"Falls of the Reichenbach," I say, clicking back into the email. "One of the old masters apparently."
"And what was the auction house that was selling it?"
"Highcliffe and Sons," I read. "Specialists in old masters I think."
The door downstairs opens and John comes up the stairs with the shopping.
"Come on then," dad says, grabbing his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck. John looks up from the kitchen table and breathes out in exasperation.
"You've got to be kidding," he says.
"What?" Dad says, clueless. "We've got a case John!"
"Already?" he asks, surprised. "That was quick."
"Might be getting quicker yet," I say, shutting down the laptop and fetching my own coat. "This one's going to hit the papers."
"Nice," John says, picking his keys back up and zipping them inside his coat. "No more holes in walls then?"
"We do hope," dad says with a grin.