After dinner, in which John had to make sure that Sherlock actually ate his food, they were about to return to 221b Baker Street when Sherlock got a text.

"Whose it from?"

"George, we're needed at Scotland Yard." Sherlock answers.

John looks at him confused. "George? George who?"

"Detective Inspector George Lestrade."

"Sherlock you do realize that his name is Greg."

"Same thing." Sherlock replies shortly.

They arrive at Scotland Yard and are greeted by Lestrade, Donavan, and Anderson.

"Hello freak." Donavan says to Sherlock.

John glares at her. Someday I'm going to punch her, he silently vows.

"Sherlock we received this text about 45 minutes ago." Lestrade explains as he hands his phone to Sherlock.

Sherlock reads the message: I love London and so will you. The burn of sun, unless it rains. You like to play, so do my friends. My little friends. The game is on. Get ready. Get Sherlock.

"It's skip code." Sherlock immediately announces.

"What?" Anderson asks Sherlock skeptically.

"London will burn unless you play my little game. Get Sherlock. Obviously that's what it says. Lestrade you should write that down."

Lestrade quickly grabs a notebook and jots that down. Donavan and Anderson just stare at him.

"Brilliant."

Everyone turns to stare at John, except Sherlock who smiles slightly at his friend's compliment.

"Can you trace the text?"

"Yes, we already did Sherlock. It came from a small town in the English country side, Yorkshire." Lestrade says.

"How far away?"

"Oh about a five hour drive."

Sherlock nods and goes to walk out the door, but stops.

"Lestrade be at 221b Baker Street tomorrow morning at 7:00 sharp with your car." And with that Sherlock walks out the door, John follows him, leaving a very confused Scotland Yard Crew.

Later that evening, Sherlock and John are back at their flat.

"So why is Greg meeting us at 7 tomorrow morning?"

"We're going on a road trip to the town of Yorkshire to track down the sender of the text." Sherlock replies.

"How do you know they'll still be there?"

"Oh I know this kind of criminal, they want to be caught." Sherlock who is laying on the couch, places his hands under his chin in his usual thinking pose.

"Do you think it's Moriarty?"

"Possibly, but I need to see the facts to prove it."

A few minutes of silence pass.

"Will we be staying overnight?"

Sherlock, interrupted from his mind palace, glances at John. "I'm not planning on it." He closes his eyes again, in thought.