The two men joined Lestrade at a simple flat in Bromley. The Detective Inspector was waiting outside the front for the black taxi to pull up and was ready to give Sherlock Holmes a summary of the case. After getting out of the cab, the slender man walked straight up to Lestrade, leaving his companion to pay the fare. Nothing changes.

'What have we got?'

'Missing persons – woman by the name of Elle Fairing, flat number twelve. She's been missing three weeks. Nothing is missing from the house, everything is there; her family came to see if she was here and said that only she was gone. Keys to the flat, car keys, jewellery so not a robbery or anything. No signs of forced entry or signs to suggest a struggle. She's just gone.'

Sherlock entered the building and made his way up the stairs; two at a time and in large bounds. In one quick motion he opened the door and swept into flat twelve. He went silently around the room, like a cat; he was quick and agile, yet careful not to disturb anything around him. He inspected the carpeted floor and the shelfs and the pictures in frames.

'You're wrong about nothing being missing, there was a box or a crate that sat here' Sherlock said, motioning to a spot on the floor, 'But obviously it was new, the family didn't notice it gone. Strange, it was relatively large, something that would leave a noticeable space…'

He flattened himself on the carpet to get a closer look at the area in question. 'It was heavy, even after three weeks the carpet is flatter here than the rest of the room… so heavy, and it sat here for a while, a couple of hours at the very least…

'A man was here. Quite tall – I'd say six feet. He has a light step for his size and thin feet. He was here the same time as the box'

'How would you know that?' Lestrade asked, unable to resist

'Really? It is quite obvious when you actually look, but there are footsteps leading away from whatever was here. But I won't trouble your minds with how I know, if you want you can read my articles on the art of reading tracks' Sherlock replied dismissively

John stood in the corner of the room with the same look of awe that he usually had when Sherlock showed off his skills of deduction, a look of respect and admiration, and rolled his eyes. Incredible man. Problem was Sherlock knew it.

This was a different case for these two. There was no body or medical evidence here so John was just here to provide company for Sherlock and something to bounce theories and ideas off. He wandered over to one of the shelves and picked up a photo. A young girl, attractive girl, brown hair, green eyes. Tall and slender, standing proud next to a man, John assumed it was her father. Her poor family, not knowing where she was or where to look. Times like this he loved being with Sherlock, it gave him a chance to help again and to play a role. He got to have influence on people lives again and people would remember him for playing an important part in their lives. After the war and being invalided home, it was nice to feel useful.

He walked over to the answering machine and played the messages – 'Elle, it's your sister, where the hell are you? Call me'; 'Sweet heart, pick up the phone, please let us know you are alright'; 'I can't get you on your mobile, Jesus, is it so hard to just call us?'

Elsewhere, Lestrade had his arms crossed in front of his chest. 'I'd appreciate if you would help me on this case Sherlock, bit of a weird one with the lack of my kind of evidence and the boss wants my best men on the job... considering that you constantly remind me that you are the best; decided I would call you in'

'You're lucky that I don't have anything better to do, Lestrade. I'll assist where I can'

And with that he left the room and started down the stairs, John in tail.