"Missing? And no one noticed? Surely your men aren't so incompetent that they don't notice when the bosses right-hand woman goes missing," Sherlock scoffed.

"That's what makes this case so delicate," Mycroft stated. "If it was that simple I wouldn't be here. Whomever took Anthea send a duplicate to fill her position. An exact look alike. No one in the office can tell the difference."

"Except you," Sherlock said, "You noticed."

"Unfortunately not right away," Mycroft admitted. "The imposter has an impeccable disguise. I first noticed something was amiss when her behavior became unusually quiet and very reserved; I assumed something had gone amiss in her personal life. But soon after she began to abstain from coming to my office to deliver messages, but began to send notes. Her handwriting even matches Anthea's. She's been gone for at least three days. " His eyes flicked down and he hesitated briefly before continuing.

" But it was the smaller things that confirmed my suspicion. She brings me tea in the afternoon; Anthea puts something in the tea to make it sweet, the imposter does not. She-"

"Stop!" Sherlock barked, raising his hand. "I understand your suspicions, especially in your line of work. But do you have any concrete proof?

"I do actually. Anthea has a small birthmark on the back of her neck. Right below her shirt collar. I noticed it while reading over her shoulder a few years ago. Her replacement wears her hair in some kind of up-do almost every day. She has no birthmark. The imposter is most likely a spy." Mycroft trailed off.

"So," Sherlock said, drawing out the word. "Your assistant is missing. You haven't sent anyone to search for her, most likely due to the fact you've been threatened not with words but some form of nonverbal communication. You know who has Anthea, and they frighten you: because you know he or she, most likely he, will kill your assistant. This man must be extremely threatening if you fear him."

"All correct," Mycroft replied. "The man who took Anthea is an ex-con we put in maximum security prison several years ago named Jake Reed. We received word a few months ago he had escaped. My Intel told me he arrived in London three weeks ago, and two days ago we found one of my men dead in an alley in central London, with Jake's initials carved into his back."

"I put all the pieces together earlier today, and my suspicions were confirmed when I received an email about an hour later from an undisclosed address that contained a picture of Anthea. Reed took her to punish us both for sentencing him to jail, as she was with me when he was arrested. He put a spy in my office to keep tabs on how close we are to recapturing him. I don't know where Anthea is, nor what he plans to do with her; but I know it cannot be good. Now, I ask you once again, please," Mycroft said, forcing out the next words. "Help me."

" You have your men, you have all the information, you know the perpetrator of the crime. So why do you need my help?" Sherlock asked.

"This is a sensitive matter. I need your help to make certain no mistakes are made. It is of the utmost importance that Anthea is found and rescued safely. We don't want to alert the spy to how much we know or alert to her that we are on the hunt, per se. This case is a matter of not only great importance, but also extreme secrecy. Only a select few of my men are even aware of what's going on: but none of them are as clever as you or I. I have already emailed you all the information we have. Now, will you help me?" Mycroft said ended forcefully.

"I will do what I can," Sherlock stated, as he rose from his chair. He picked up his violin and began to pluck at the strings. After a few minutes of silence he said, "Leave me."

"He won't help until he's ready too," Molly said as she rose from her seat. "But he'll call you the minute he has something. We will get her back Mycroft."

"Thank you Ms. Hooper. Sherlock," Mycroft said, " I expect to hear from you soon." He walked over to the door, and descended to the door and walked onto the street.

"He's really worried Sherlock," Molly said, walking over to stand behind him.

"I know." Sherlock mumbled.

"Please Sherlock," Molly whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Find her."

"I will," he promised.