When John came back up five minutes later Sherlock had already put the photographs up to the wall above the couch and scanned them intensively. Sometimes he stood far away sometimes he almost pushed his face against the pictures.

"This worked well then, didn't it?" John said as he entered the living room.

"Something in those pictures must have offended those people who now chase the Wilson family for almost 120 years." Sherlock said thoughtfully.

John stood beside him and now also took a closer look at the three old photographs:

The first one showed a look at the Royal Exchange from Queen Victoria Street. One could see only a half of the Exchange the rest of the picture showed the houses in the street which run somewhere into Cornhill and around the corner to the Bank of England. One could see the Bank on the next two pictures. Both of them showed the busy corner of the Princes Street and the Threadneedle Street. On the one which had been taken a day later one of the street lamps was just being repaired.

"They look like normal photographs taken on a busy day." John just said. "There is nothing strange about them."

"There is nothing more unusual than commonplace, John." Sherlock pointed out. "There were 770,443 crimes committed in London in the last year only. What do you think was the number back then in Victorian times when it was even easier for street robbers?"

"So…" John said slowly while analysing the pictures thoroughly. "This means one of Wilson's ancestors took those photographs not knowing that he might have just photographed a crime in process?"

"Exactly!" Sherlock confirmed John's theory. "This means that whoever back then committed this specific crime found out and tried to get those photos back so that by now planning crimes and keeping an eye on Jabez Wilson's family has also become a business to those people."

He faced the pictures again.

"There must be something strange about those pictures." he muttered. "What can look odd on a London street at half past two in the afternoon?"

"Half past two?" John asked.

Sherlock pointed at the first picture with the Royal Exchange on it. At one of the buildings one could see a clock and with a bit of effort John managed it to read the time: 2:35.

"Sherlock, look!" John then said and also pointed at the same photograph. "That man there, doesn't he look a bit suspicious while running over the street like this?"

John was right. On the bottom of the picture a man ran, looking slightly nervous from one side of the street to the other.

"Maybe he was doing something in the building on the left." John suggested. "One could look over the whole area around the Bank and the Exchange perfectly."

"Maybe…" Sherlock replied quietly, lost in his thoughts.

He scanned the second picture. It was a crowded corner many people were wandering around minding their own business and lots of carriages drove all over the place. Only a few people stood quietly at one of the street isles with the street lamps on them.

"Of course!" Sherlock suddenly called out.

"What is it?" John asked curiously.

"The people, John. We have to look at the people standing around."

John frowned then looked back at the photographs looking at all the people who were not sitting in a carriage or walking over the streets.

"Well, most of them are just standing near the street lamps." John simply said.

Then he noticed something. He saw the third picture that had been taken a day later. Two workmen were repairing one of the street lamps in front of the Bank.

"Do you think they did something with the mechanisms of those lamps?" John wondered.

"Half past two, look how busy all those people are and how many of them are wandering through the City at that time." Sherlock replied. "Do you think someone during rush-hour would notice it if a man quickly lends hand on such a street lamp?"

He now pointed again with his finger on the one man who ran over the street.

"Maybe he was the one who observed everything from the roof so they didn't forget one."

"But who of those people are the manipulators?" John now asked. "If it was such a busy time there must have been hundreds of people there."

"Perhaps we are looking for a similarity." Sherlock replied slowly.

Both of them now let their looks hurry over the three pictures eagerly looking for something that looked suspiciously ordinary, something one would not see at first sight.

"I have it!" John then called out after some seconds. "The man who runs over the street looks like a classic gentleman: a simple black suit and a top hat. Look at the people standing at the street lamps. At every single one of them are those gentlemen either facing the lamps or observing the people around them on the streets."

With a smile of satisfaction he turned around to Sherlock.

"So what were those men doing there, fixing something on those street lamps and observing the area?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock replied with a We-both-know-what's-really-going-on-here face.

John confronted the photographs, thinking hastily.

"Threadneedle Street..?" gave Sherlock a hint with a sigh.

Sherlock was right. Actually it was obvious.

"The Bank of England and the Royal Exchange at one place…" John slowly realized. "God… They broke into the most valuable buildings of London!"

"Back then electricity was still a new thing to the people. And imagine if all of the street lamps at one of the most important places went out or break in some kind of controlled miniature explosions. To get into the Bank in all this confusion and with a not that well organised police force back then should not have been a problem."

"So that afternoon they had planned to do it." John said.

"And Jabez' ancestor took a photograph while they prepared everything." Sherlock continued.

"That's why they killed the heads of the family." John said. "Because they had the photographs."

"And if they didn't want to cooperate and give them the photographs back they had to pay with their lives." Sherlock concluded.

"But why did they kill Jabez father?" John now wondered. "This crime is 120 years ago by now it must have been barred by limitation."

Before Sherlock had the chance to answer John's phone rang. He got it out and read the massage he had received.

"It's Lestrade he brought Jabez home." John said then he continued reading and stopped for a second before looking up to Sherlock. "The photographs have been stolen!"

"Of course they have!" Sherlock said. "And this is why they killed Jabez' father."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

Sherlock smiled with relish before answering:

"They are going to do it again." he explained. "They wanted the photos back so they can see how their ancestors have done it."

John stood there with his mouth open not sure if he could now really believe that some silly family criminals tried to break into the Bank of England or the Royal Exchange. Meanwhile Sherlock had put on his coat and his scarf.

"Write to Lestrade. Tell him we meet at the corner of Threadneedle Street and Princes Street. Those men will not resist of taking a look at the place!"

Sherlock walked through the door.

"And take the photos with you!" he called back while walking down the staircase.

John sighed angrily and hastily texted Lestrade where they should meet:

Come to Princes/Threadneedle Street at once.

Sherlock is on to something.

JW