"Hello?"

10 seconds after the text message the phone had rung. Blocked number again and Rachel felt cold all over.

"I'm glad to hear that you can follow instructions. So unlike your brother."

The voice on the other end of the phone was smooth, silky. It sounded like a young man whose voice hadn't broken yet.

"What do you want?"

"So predictable. What do you want. Why are you doing this to me. Please stop. So boring. Why can't people think of anything better to say?"

Rachel stayed silent. There was nothing she could think to say.

"So, Paul's sister, have you found it yet? Your brother definitely didn't have it on him when I saw him last and I am sure he hadn't hidden it is his usual places."

"I hadn't seen Paul for four years. I would've noticed if he left something for me."

"Oh, I went through your house before the fire. So tragic, gas explosion like that, such a pity it destroyed everything. Unfortunately what I was looking for wasn't there. I knew he took it to your house, so it can only mean that you've hidden it. Do you have it with you now?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Paul hadn't left me anything, given me anything or even let me know that something was going on. I…"

"Oh Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. How you disappoint me. There is no use in trying to protect your brother now, he is already dead. And more people will die the more you refuse to play along. If you don't give me what your brother took from me in 24 hours, I will make you and everyone around you pay until I have it back.

I will call you, tomorrow, with details of where you should drop it off. Beware Rachel, I am not a man you want to displease. Ta ta, and sweet dreams."

Rachel sat down on the bed, phone forgotten on her side. Whatever Paul had hidden, had to be in the safe. The same safe that was currently more than an hour away in the hands of a consulting detective and his doctor friends. Rachel dug John's card out of her handbag and with shaky fingers dialled his number.

Six rings and then voicemail. She tried again, but just kept on going through to his voicemail. Finally she just left a generic message asking John to call her back. The blissful sleep that had been anticipating was starting to look less and less likely. Frustrated, she put her coat back on and headed to the train station. She had to go to Baker Street and get the safe back.

"Remind me again why we are taking a safe to St Barts?" John struggled to keep up with Sherlock, his long legs confidently striding down the hallways.

"They have the best tools to break into this safe. I don't own a saw, you don't own a crowbar and I don't have the patience to play Simon Says with a safe. "

There was, surprisingly, no one in the morgue at 11pm on a Saturday night. Sherlock spotted a half-filled coffee cup on one desk, but with the pale ring of milk floating on top he knew that it hadn't been touched since Friday. They had the place to themselves.

Five minutes later and the contents of the safe was spread out before them like a treasure trove. There was a pack if Minstrels with a post-it note saying "In case of emergency, eat", a passport, some documents, a necklace and a thumb drive.

Sherlock picked it up gently and looked at it in detail. It was an 8Gb model, one of the ones that could go onto a key chain. It looked fairly beaten up, and someone had gone to great pains to bend the pins of the connector to make sure that it could still go into a slot. There was a rusty brown residue on the one side of the plastic case which Sherlock scraped into a plastic bag without a second thought. The blood on the memory stick didn't surprise him, and he would bet that it was Paul Templeton's blood too.

A quick shake of the morgue computer's mouse and the hard drive hummed back to life. Sherlock had to take a few seconds to find Molly's new password (it was toby26, how tedious naming her password after a cat) but he could finally slide the memory stick into the appropriate port. A light on the stick flickered as the computer registered the drive and Sherlock chuckled in triumph, only to be met with a password screen.

The cursor blinked accusingly at Sherlock.

"So go on then, what are you waiting for?" John peered over Sherlock's shoulder.

"It's not so easy to guess the password of someone you don't know John. Molly's always has something to do with her cat or a boyfriend, and yours always has something do with a medical term but I don't know the owner of this memory stick."

"Is there a way around it?"

"There is, but it is always a bit tricky. If the previous owner had set it up correctly all the data on the stick would be wiped if there were enough incorrect attempts, or if an attempt is made through the back door. "

"Oh. So what are we going to do?"

"You are going to call Rachel Templeton and get as much information from her about her brother. I am going to analyse this blood I got off the memory stick."

Sherlock triumphantly waved the little plastic baggie in front of John and pocketed the memory stick again.

"Off you go, and bring back some food when you are done. Man cannot live on tea alone you know."

John headed towards to hospital cafeteria and was surprised to see four missed calls on his mobile. The voicemail from Rachel surprised him, and despite the late hour he called her back immediately.

"Where are you?"

"I'm on the train, heading to London."

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"John, I need to open that safe. I can't tell you why, but just know that I need whatever is in that safe straight away. Are you still in Baker Street?"

"We're at St Bart's Hospital. Are you sure you are ok?"

"The nearest tube stop would be St Paul's, yes? Can you meet me there in… twenty minutes? Please John, I can't say anymore right now."

"St Paul's, twenty minutes. I'll meet you on the north side exit. "

"Thank you John."

John sighed and hung up the phone. If could get a cab he might be able to pick up dinner for them too.

As promised, John was waiting for Rachel at the north side exit, carrier bag in hand. Rachel vibrated with tension and was surprised to not see Sherlock next to John. She was surprised how used she had gotten to the one with the other.

"Dinner. " John held up the carrier bag, and Rachel was peered at the three kebabs inside. A rumble from her stomach reminded her that lunch was a long time ago and with all the chaos of the evening, she had managed to skip dinner again.

"Don't tell me anything you want to tell Sherlock too. It's silly to repeat the information and he'll be annoyed that we talked without him."

John set a brisk pace to St Bart's and if Rachel didn't know any better she would've said that they looked like a normal couple on a Saturday night, take-out in hand. They talked about a film they both wanted to see and about the transformation of London from car-based to cycle based. John talked about his locum work in some of the more interesting areas and Rachel was only to keen to bend his ear about some of the more interesting cases she worked on as a lobbyist.

"So what would've been the worst case you've had to work on?" John asked her. St Bart's outline was coming closer, and she mentally started girding her loins. She appreciated John's attempts to distract her from talking to Sherlock again.

"I would have to say the sexual harassment lot. It was so easy to offend them, and everything was seen as harassment. They were their own worst enemy in the end."

"Made it a bit difficult for you?"

"Almost impossible. I think when your job is about innuendos and dirty messages in everything, you do start seeing it everywhere. I received an official complaint about the way I tapped my pencil in a meeting."

'Was it sexual?"

"Apparently. I've never looked at my Faber-Castell HB in the same way again, I assure you." Rachel laughed when she thought back to that day and was completely surprised to find that they had walked all the way down to the morgue.

Sherlock was there, hunched over a microscope and there was a slight, red-haired girl next to him.

"Sherlock, you can't just come in here when it suits you. I've already been in trouble about you being in here unsupervised and I am quite keen on keeping my job."

"But I am not unsupervised, you are here. Now be a good girl and hand me that petri dish on the desk next to you."

Rachel could see the girl was tempted to hurl the dish at Sherlock's head, but before thought could turn into action, John cleared his throat.

"Dinner, Sherlock. And look who I found"

Sherlock and the girl looked up at them with surprise. They both seemed unaware that John and Rachel had been there for a few minutes and the girl jumped back half a metre from Sherlock.

"Dr Watson, I didn't know you were here too. And you have someone with you." The girl? Woman? She looked about Rachel's age but seemed younger, looked flustered and embarrassed.

"I, ah, just went to get some food. Molly, may I present Rachel Templeton? Rachel, this is Dr Molly Hooper, one of the pathologists here at St Bart's. She kindly let's Sherlock use her lab from time to time."

Molly shyly waved hello at Rachel.

"Rachel, what blood type was your brother?"

The question was so strange that Rachel didn't even think of not replying.

"He was AB+, why?"

"Just proving my genius again. We seemed to have something of your brother's in that safe. "

"You broke the code? So quickly? What was it?"

"We used a crowbar, actually. Here you go Sherlock." John leaned over the table to hand Sherlock the kebab. Rachel's mouth started watering as the smell of roast lamb permeated the laboratory.

"You can't eat here, not after the last time. I was about to go on a tea break if you want to join me in the cafeteria?" Molly hopefully looked at Sherlock. Rachel hoped that she had never looked so obvious when she mooned over a crush.

"It should be quiet enough there to discuss what we need to. Excellent idea, Molly."

Molly practically levitated from the praise and Rachel was embarrassed for her part.

"Just let me get my sandwich and I'll join you. Be right back." Molly practically sprinted out of the lab.

John gave Rachel a look to indicate that she shouldn't mention anything about what she saw between Molly and Sherlock. She just rolled her eyes and sighed. She wasn't planning on interfering anyway.