Sherlock Homes stood and stared, unable to grasp exactly what he was seeing. It was impossible, he knew that it was impossible, and yet there was the evidence right before his eyes. Young girl, sixteen or seventeen, long blonde curly hair fanned out around her head, face peaceful in death, lying on the wet pavement in a white dress that looked as if it had come straight out of a gothic horror novel, and there, clearly visible in the right side of her neck were two bright red puncture wounds, looking for all the world like fang marks.

It was perfect, too perfect. A love of art that was taken too far. A perfect tableau of a death scene, as if waiting to be painted, not just photographed by the police photographers. The girl was beautiful, the dress unmarked by the mud or the grime of the alleyway, the scene perfectly balanced in every way.

'So... Vampire?' John asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

'Don't be ridiculous, John,' Sherlock murmured, as he inspected the body with a magnifying glass, walking round it, viewing it from every angle, then inspecting the walls of the alley where she had been found.

'We'll need those bins taken away for forensics,' he said to the Czech DI who was in charge of the case.

'But of course.'

'Can I see the other?'

'The other bodies? Certainly, but not now, in the morning.'

'Very well. 9am? We'll meet you at the mortuary,' and turning on his heel he stalked off towards the bridge.

'But I haven't told you where it is,' the DI was shouting after him.

'Oh believe me, we'll find it,' John said as he sprinted after Sherlock

...

The hotel was in the Old Town, Five star, surprisingly comfortable, discrete, Sherlock was immediately suspicious. Walking into their room, or their suite as it turned out to be, Sherlock headed straight for the bedroom, which contained a double bed. A quick check of the other rooms proved that this was, in fact, the only bed.

'I'll take the sofa,' John said quickly.

'No you won't, Mycroft's trying to prove a point,' Sherlock said. 'I won't give him the satisfaction.'

'And rising to him isn't going to give him satisfaction?' John muttered, before saying in a resigned voice, 'Fine, I'll go and sort it out?'

'There is a problem?' the bell boy asked frowning. 'It is a lovely suite.'

'Yes, its a lovely suite with only one bed,' John explained patiently.

'Oh, but I thought...'

'Yes, so does everybody, but you thought wrong,' John said with a sigh. 'Come on, show me back to reception and I'll see if we can't sort this out.'

Ten minutes later they were installed in a suite on an adjoining corridor, this one with two separate bedrooms, after Sherlock had rejected the first two that they had been shown. By the time that John had opened his suitcase and put his wash bag in the bathroom, Sherlock had already laid claim to one of the suite's two armchairs and was flicking through the Czech TV channels.

'So what are we doing here?' John asked, as Sherlock settled on a program that looked suspiciously like a Czech version of Jeremy Kyle. 'And do you even speak Czech?'

'Of course.'

'But you've only ever talked to people here in English.'

'And your point is?'

John sighed. 'I can see that vampires are exciting, but why was Mycroft so keen to get you to take this case. What one earth does it have to interest the British secret service?'

'Absolutely nothing as far as I'm aware. But the anniversary of my mother's death is tomorrow, I would imagine that Mycroft wanted me out of London and too busy to sit and 'brood'' Sherlock made mock inverted comment with his fingers, 'on previous events. I would also imagine that he believed, erroneously of course that I was less likely to do something rash in a strange city.'

'Whereas in fact...'

'I am probably more likely. But then he has also sent you here as my guard dog, has paid the hotel staff to stop me from leaving the hotel alone, no doubt by them inventing a whole tabloids worth of riots, gas leaks and and a myriad of other reasons to ensure that I remain here, and he has of course - bugged this room. Wave John, we're on camera.'

Leaping up from the chair he reached up and pulled a tiny camera from above the door frame. 'I thought that by rejecting the first two suites that we were offered I'd avoided that, but Mycroft is good, I'll give him that. He must have bugged all of them.'

'So thats why you didn't want the first suite,' John groaned, 'I knew it couldn't just have been about the bed thing.'

'Of course not, Mycroft can think what he likes. He is very well aware that we are not a couple, he just enjoys having a dig occasionally. Besides I don't intend to do much sleeping over the next few days.'

Sherlock was prowling round the room, climbing onto furniture and removing microphones and cameras from behind curtains, picture rails, and even from underneath the armchairs. He then went through the two bathrooms and both bedrooms, performing a similar process, before dropping them all unceremoniously into the kettle of water.

His phone rang a split second later Mycroft. 'Ignore it,' Sherlock said with a wave of his hand. John did, but ten seconds later his own phone began to ring.

'If we don't answer it he'll just send someone round Sherlock, you know what he's like. I'll put it onto speaker.'

'Dr Watson, kindly tell my little brother that I would appreciate it if he could have more respect with my equipment or I'll dock it out of his pay,' came Mycroft's voice, without any attempt at introduction or pleasantry.

Sherlock silently got up, picked up the kettle and dropped the whole thing, surveillance equipment and all off the balcony.

'Tell my brother that if he wants it back he can send someone to come and get it,' he said , before walking into bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

'I heard, ' Mycroft said wearily. 'Just tell him to be at the mortuary at nine o'clock sharp will you?'

'Why are you doing this Mycroft?'

'I told you. To keep him out of mischief.'

'Trying to control him doesn't work, Mycroft, haven't you worked that out by now? It just makes him worse.'

'Watch him John, you need to stay with him.'

'Which will be more difficult in a strange city than in London. Mycroft you didn't rig this whole thing up just to keep him occupied did you?'

'Murder several young virgins, now John even I wouldn't go that far.'

Five minutes later, John was tapping on Sherlock's door. Poking his head round it, he found Sherlock sitting cross-legged on the bed, tapping at his laptop.

'John, come and look at this,' he said. 'These are the girls who were killed. What do you notice about them?'

'They're all very young?' John asked.

'Obviously, try again.'

'They're all very pretty?'

'And?'

John looked at the pictures carefully. 'You're right, they're all beautiful, and very thin, they look like..'

'Models,' Sherlock finished triumphantly. 'Precisely. Think about it, all the victims were laid out, almost in an artist's tableau, perfectly arranged, props with some of them, not a hair out of place?'

'So?'

'So, the murderer, or murderers, because I don't believe that one man could do this on his own, must have found them from somewhere. My betting is a model agency.'

John groaned, 'Please tell me that I'm not going to have to pretend to be a male model for this one,'

'Don't be ridiculous, nobody would ever find that convincing. We''re going to pretend to be photographers, or rather you are.'

'Which would of course, be so much better,'John said dryly. 'Hang on you said man, how do you know the murderers a man?'

'Obviously he's a man.'

'Obviously,' John said. 'Now do you need me anything else? Because it is 2am, our presence is required at the morgue at 9am, and I would quite like to get some sleep first.'

'Oh sleep,' Sherlock said with a dismissive wave of his hand, 'Sleep's boring, but if you must...'