"A case, yes I know." Sherlock turned around as D.I Lestrade walked through the doorway of 221b, about to start talking. He wore a slightly disgruntled look as he close his mouth again.

"Yes, of course you know." He muttered to himself more than anyone else.

"Well? Where is it? Give me data." Sherlock prompted.

"Hotel, white male, early thirties, found by the cleaner and no sign of forced entry. No more than that I'm afraid. Will you come?"

"Yes, I'll follow you in a taxi." Sherlock waved his hand distractedly, his mind already working. "John?"

"Hmm? Yes of course, just give me a minute to get my shoes on."

Sherlock's face broke into a grin as Lestrade left. He pulled on his coat and scarf and picked up his phone from the table. John rolled his eyes at his flat mate's expression, well past the point of bothering to scold him for his unusual reaction.

The hotel was a small one in central London. Despite its prime location, it wasn't of the highest standards. The usual occupants of the rooms being tourists or poorly paid businessmen. The front was blocked off and surrounded by police cars, however Sherlock ignored them all and breezed into the building, John following in his wake. Lestrade caught up to them and showed them up two flights of stairs to the room on the second floor. The door was already open and Sherlock walked in, followed by John and then Lestrade.

Sherlock looked around the room briefly before approaching the body. He was as Lestrade said, a young, white male. He lay face up on the bed, dressed in a plain black suit. Sherlock looked around the deceased, carefully examining him before checking the cupboards and the man's suitcase.

"John, take a look at the body for me will you?" Sherlock said from the floor where he was crouched over the suitcase, his hands resting beneath his chin.

John did as he was told and examined the body. "Been dead a couple of hours I'd say, not long. No signs of physical causes of death, or vomit so I'd say most likely drugs."

"Mmm." Sherlock agreed. "I'll need an autopsy report to be sure but that seems the most likely cause. The man's name was Derek Harvard, he was here for a business meeting and hadn't been at this hotel long. The killer obviously came through the door, so he must also have had a key to this room-"

"Wait, wait. Explain?" Lestrade cut Sherlock off, looking confused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes but explained his deductions. "His suit is fairly cheap but new, and his suitcase is the same, suggesting he doesn't have much money, obvious also by his choice of hotel, but he has a laptop and a briefcase" Sherlock gestured to both items. "So he's here for work. He's from out of town, no oyster card in his wallet and he obviously can't afford taxis, and ah train ticket receipt." He continued, holding up the receipt. "His credit cards have been removed from the wallet, so the killer wanted him to be anonymous, however I know this man."

"How?" John asked, looking up from the body.

"I went to school with him."

"You sure it's him? I mean it's been a while since you were at school together and you don't strike me as the reunion kind of guy."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Of course I'm sure, Lestrade."

"Alright. How do you know this is a murder not a suicide?"

"Firstly he's at a hotel with a suitcase full of toiletries. People like to die somewhere familiar, usually at home, even so, no-one brings a toothbrush if they're not planning on being there for the night. Secondly-"

"Yeah, alright OK." Lestrade wiped a hand over his brow. "I'll get forensics in here and then get the body to the morgue."

"You won't find the killer's finger prints."

"No?" Lestrade asked.

"No. If he took the effort to get the master key for the rooms, and kill him in such a way, he's not going to be stupid enough to be smearing prints everywhere."

"Even so, it's my job to be thorough."

"Come on John." Sherlock called to his friend as he left the room.

"Was that him do you think?" John asked once they were out of earshot of the police.

"Moriarty? Seems likely."

"Hmm.. It wasn't very like him though, was it?"

Sherlock frowned "What do you mean?"

"Well I expected it to be a bit more... Showy."

"I found this in Derek's case." He held up a single chess piece, a knight.