"Action figures, Books, Breakfast Cereal, even A television show. Why do people want these things?"
"You're a Hero, people love a hero. Sometimes, they love a hero just enough to want a 6" plastic figure." Said John Watson, as he peaked over to top of a book and watched Holmes fidget with a toy of himself - then throw it in to a fireplace in the room.

"I don't even look like that. His cheeks are fat." said Sherlock snatching up fresh figures from a large box he had just had delivered. "why do they think I want these? Who would be vain enough to want a box full of little doppelgängers?"

"I like them."said John placing his book down gently and picking up one of himself which was lay on the armrest to his left. "they're cute"

"They're stupid." Sherlock spat sharply. Sherlock placed another toy down on his feet in a ready action pose, walked away, came back with a bow, and proceeded to remove the head with a finely placed arrow. "I'm bored Watson. Do we have a job?"

"You can't be serious? We have been sat down for..." Watson checked his watch "...13 and a half minuets. Let me rest."

"Fine." said Sherlock slotting himself down on a crowded sofa, littered in books and papers. "...I'll check myself"

Sherlock and Watson had found themselves on A mission, set by a very unusual customer. A dog. A dog which had sat outside of their flat for around 2 days without moving. Sherlock found the dog far more intriguing than the people who had came in to the flat to beg for his help, Such as Father O'Reilly, An Irish priest who wanted the location of a missing donation box investigated, Or Ivory West, A young attractive girl, who wanted Sherlock to find her Father. All of which he figured out without even seeing a scrap of evidence. The dog though, The Dog was different, The little bulldog must have been 'taught to come' to the house, so Sherlock said.

Sherlock and Watson had decided to follow the dog, who attempted to lead them away every time they left the flat. For Three miles they followed the dog. To a train station. The dog sat and waited at the station. Without a huff or a grunt. Sat and waited for a train.

"What do you think?" Said Watson

"Up to now? Not much, The dog has been trained to find us, Most likely in the case of an emergency, the owner didn't trust the police, otherwise why would he have called on the help of us, over a simple phone call. I'm almost sure it's a He, The dog is a male. Commonly Males buy Male dogs. And it's a Bulldog, A commonly male bought Dog."

"Right." Watson said processing the useful, and useless information at the same time. "Could it be a trap?"

"possibly, Though if someone wanted us dead, they knew where we lived, So why not kill us there?"

A train pulled to a stop, the bulldog stood up, and waddled in to a cabin, sitting by the doors after Holmes and Watson had boarded. Watson pulled a book out of his pocket, looked up and down the airily empty cabin and took a seat, while Sherlock began to investigate every last detail of the cabin.

Missing screws on the floor, scuff marks surrounding it, the glass on one side is incredibly clean compared to the other side of the cabin. The seats are split. Frayed cable. No, Cut cable. This connects to the...emergency break.

"Watson. Do you have your gun?" Sherlock said with a small air of worry.

"Always!" Watson said perplexed.

"Good." Said Sherlock "Who ever got us on this train didn't want us to get off."

"Sherlock?"

"The emergency breaks are cut, and..." Sherlock rattled a cabin door "Just as I thought, The cabins are locked." Sherlock turned to John, but looked straight through him, shuffled for a second, then sat down.

"What are we going to do then?" said Watson placing his book in to his pocket and leaning forward slightly, as to look Sherlock dead in the eyes.
Sherlock took out a box of nicotine patches, placed on on his arm and began to think. "Oh...Great, thanks, now i have to entertain my self till we arrive at...Where ever."

The dog shuffled on it's bottom and stared at Watson, then lay down and fell asleep.

Watson sighed, pulled out his book, and read till the train began to slow to a stable shunt.