A few moments after getting in the car it began to drive. Jawn looked over at the person sitting in the car and smiled. There was an attractive woman sitting there, staring down at her iPhone. She didn't acknowledge him or anything; she just kept texting.

"Hello," Jawn said with a smile.

She looked up at him for a second and smiled brightly. "Hi!"

Her eyes returned to the phone and Jawn crossed his arms. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Er… Armadillo."

Jawn frowned at her. "Really?"

"Nope."

He looked down, trying to pretend he wasn't hurt by the fact she had called herself Armadillo. "Well, I'm Jawn. That is my real name, too, bee tea dubs."

"I know."

With a frown, Jawn looked at Armadillo. "Is it worth asking where I'm going?"

Armadillo smirked. "Not at all."

She gave him a smile before looking back at her iPhone. Jawn looked out the window, supressing the tears. He wasn't going home, was he?

A little while and an awkward silence later, the car pulled up outside an empty warehouse. Both Armadillo and Jawn exited the car and walked towards a man, leaning on an umbrella in the middle of the room. Armadillo turned around once Jawn got close to the man in the middle and walked back to the car.

Suddenly, there was a crash. "Oh, son of a-"

Jawn spun around to see Armidillo crouched down, her phone face down on the ground. Oh. And an iPhone, too! Well, that was broken and probably beyond use.

"Anthea, please," the man said with a sigh.

"Sorry sir. It slipped from my fingers, I swear!" she said, blushing.

He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "For Christ sake, Anthea, that is a spare. Anyway, I told you not to get an iPhone. Just get in the car and put the sim card into the other phone. Don't stress."

Jawn looked the man up and down. He was in a very expensive suit and had an umbrella in his hand. It hadn't been raining recently, not in London anyway. He knew that from when he was in Brixton. There was a chair in front of the man and Jawn frowned at it. The man used his umbrella to point at the chair.

"My apologies for that, Jawn. Nonetheless, have a seat."

Jawn continued to walk towards the man and frowned. "I do have a phone, you know. Like, well done, that was fantastic. But you could've phoned me… on my phone."

Instead of sitting down, Jawn kept walking and stood a meter away from the man.

"When one is avoiding the attention of Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place. The leg must be hurting you. Sit down."

"I don't wanna sit down," Jawn pouted.

The man gave Jawn a curious look. "You don't seem very afraid."

"Well," Jawn started, "I've been to Afghanistan, I'm pretty sure there isn't much that scares me now."

After a small chuckle, the man said "ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" There was a pause before he asked "what is your connection to Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes?"

Jawn frowned. That's why there were here? For Ermergerd-Lock? "I met him… yesterday. I don't know the man. We have no connection."

"Mmm, and since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" the man taunted.

"Alright, who the frick frack paddy wack are you?" Jawn asked with a sigh.

"An interested party."

Jawn was very sus about this whole situation. "Interested in Ermergerd-Lock? Why the hell would you be interested in him? I'm pretty sure you kids aren't friends. Friends don't kidnap strangers to find out about someone."

"You've met him. How many 'friends' do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes is capable of having."

"Yeah? What do you suppose that is?"

"An enemy."

Who categorises enemies and friends together? This man, obvs. "An enemy?"

The man sighed. "In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic."

HE likes to be dramatic?! Jawn looked around the warehouse. "Well, thank God you're above all that. I can see you're not a fan of dramatizing anything…" After a small frown from the man, Jawn's phone received a text. "See, that's how you contact someone."

Jawn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked down at the message, ignoring the man standing before him.

Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. SH

"I hope I'm not distracting you."

"'Course not," Jawn replied rather casually. He decided to screw around with the bro and looked at his phone a few moments before putting it back in his pocket.

The man cocked his head while watching Jawn. "Do you plan to continue your association with Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes?"

"Bitch, I might be. I'm pretty sure that it's none of your business."

"It could be," he replied simply.

"Bullshit," Jawn said while looking over his shoulder.

The man grabbed a notebook from his pocket and opened it. He flicked through and began to speak. "If you do move into, um.. two hundred and twenty one B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." He closed the notebook and pocketed it while looking at Jawn.

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because you're not a wealthy man."

"What do ya want?"

"Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel ... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to."

"What the hell? That's creepy. Why do you want to know?" Jawn spat.

"I worry about him. Constantly."

"How kind of you," Jawn said in a condescending manner.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a ... difficult relationship."

Jawn received another text, giving him a chance to not respond to the strange man's comment.

If inconvenient, come anyway. SH

"I'm not interested in your offer, bitch!" Jawn said, trying to channel his inner Jesse Pinkman. Rather terribly, to be honest.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure."

"IDGAF! I'm not interested in spying on someone. That's not my problem."

The man smiled. "You're very loyal, very quickly."

"Fuck off. I just don't wanna make a deal with the devil."

At Jawn's words, the man grabbed the notebook from his pocket. This was getting pretty tedious. He should've just remembered this stuff before bringing Jawn in. Like, congrats, you have memory issues.

"Trust issues, it says here."

Jawn began to sweat. "What are you reading? What the hell are you doing?"

"Could it be that you've decided to trust Ermegerd-Lock Better-Homes of all people?" the man asked Jawn with a smirk.

"I never said I trusted him. Did I say that? Who says I trust him?"

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily."

"Got me! Now, are we done? I'm tired."

"You tell me," he said and smirked. Jawn looked at him before turning around and walking away. "I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen."

Jawn stop and his shoulders tensed. This man was making a mistake. He wouldn't like Jawn when he's angry. "My what?" Did this man know about his possessed hand (see conversation with Magnum StandDown… or whatever his name was)?

"Show me." The man nodded towards Jawn's left hand. Jawn was getting annoyed. This man was wasting precious sleep time. The man then leaned on his umbrella like commanding things was an ordinary thing for him.

Bloody wanker, Jawn thought. He wasn't intimidated, however. Nonetheless, he raised his forearm and stood still. He looked like he was going to start singing 'Single Ladies', a song he had practiced in the shower only last night before bed.

The man began to stroll forwards, the umbrella in the crook of his elbow. He reached to Jawn's hand. Jawn, still having trust issues, put his hand down. "Don't."

Instead of responding, the man lowered his head a bit, still maintaining eye contact, and raised an eyebrow. All Jawn could think was trust issues. It bounced around his head as the man took the left hand in both of his and began to look at it.

"Remarkable."

"What's remarkable?" Jawn pulled his hand away and placed it firmly by his side.

The man turned around and took a few steps back before responding. "Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Ermegerd-Lock Better-Homes, you see the battlefield. You've seen it already, haven't you?"

"Stop beating about the bush. What's wrong with my hand?" Jawn asked while the man opposite him spun around.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service."

Jawn Wats-Off was pissed off. Who the fuck did this man think he was to accuse Jawn of having PTSD? It was clearly PTID (Post-Traumatic Insult Disorder). He was livid. "Who the fuck are you and how do you know what my therapist has said?"

"Fire her. She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Wats-Off ... you miss it." The man leaned in, staring into Jawn's eyes. In a whisper, he whispered "welcome back." Jawn's phone went off again and the man started to strut out, twirling about his umbrella. "Time to choose a side, Doctor Wats-Off."

He froze as he tried to comprehend what the man had said. He evoked more questions than he answered… actually, he didn't answer anything! He just fired off accusations and tried to make it rain!

Armadillo/Anthea began to walk back to Jawn, a BlackBerry now in her hand. "I'm taking you home."

Once Jawn started to follow, he took his phone out and checked out the most recent message.

Could be dangerous. SH

He put the phone away and hurried after the woman.

"Address?" she asked once he clambered into the car with her.

He looked up at her and frowned. "221B Baker Street. But I gotta stop off somewhere first."