The boys arrive at New Scotland Yard and are following Detective Inspector Lestrade across the general office as he leads them towards his office, "You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

Sherlock rolls his eyes, "Obviously."

"You've love this. That explosion ..." Sherlock interrupts him.

"Gas Leak, yes?"

Lestrade shook his head, "No."

Sherlock looks at him with confusion, "No?"

"No. Made to look like one," Lestrade explains.

"What?" John asks.

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box – a very strong box and inside it was this," said Lestrade as he points at a white envelope that was lying on his desk unharmed.

"You didn't open it?"

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?"

"We've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped."

"How reassuring."

Sherlock picks up the envelope and takes it across the room to another table which has an lamp on it. Holding the envelope up close to the bulb he examines both sides carefully. On the front in elegant handwriting are the words "Sherlock Holmes".

"Nice stationery. Bohemian."

"What?" Lestrade looks at him with disbelief.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"No."

"Where's Ophelia?" Lestrade asks as he looks around his office.

"Obviously, she's not here," Sherlock utters.

"I can see that, where is she?"

"It's none of your business inspector."

"Actually it is since I'm her god-father," Lestrade reminds him.

"Hmm," which was Sherlock's reply.

John steps in between the two men, "She was sent to the hospital."

"Oh gosh really? Is she alright?" Lestrade exclaimed.

John nods, "She's fine, just need to get a couple of stiches."

"Would you two shut up?" Sherlock raised his voice.

Both Lestrade and John shut their mouth and glared at Sherlock for a moment who was still observing the envelope.

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold, iridium nib."

""She"?" John looks at him with confusion.

"Obviously."

John shifts his head, "Obviously," he whispers.

Sherlock picks up a letter opener from the desk and carefully cuts the envelope open. He looks inside and his mouth opens a little in surprise as he reaches in and takes out a pink iPhone.

John looks at it with shock, "But that's… that's the phone, the pink phone."

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asks.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like ..." Sherlock stops when he realized what Lestrade just said.

"The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"Course I read his blog! We all do. D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?" said Lestrade as he fold his arms on his chest and looks at him with disbelief while Donovan scoffs.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new," said Sherlock as he ignores Lestrade questions.

"Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership," Sherlock glares at John who was now staring at the floor trying his best to avoid him.

Sherlock switch the phone on and immediately gets voice alert, "You have one new message."

The message plays but there is no. However, five peeps were played and then stopped.

"Is that it?" John asks.

Sherlock shook his head, "No, That's not it."

A photograph has also been uploaded to the phone. He opens it and Lestrade comes across to look over his shoulder. The picture is of an unfurnished room with a fireplace on one wall. The wallpaper is peeling and there's a tall mirror propped up in one corner. A smaller mirror is standing on the mantelpiece.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" Lestrade yells.

"It's a warning," said Sherlock as he gazes thoughtfully.

"A warning?"

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's gonna happen again," Sherlock explains as he takes a good look of the photo once more and starts to leave the office, "And I've seen this place before."

"H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?" John asks as he follows behind him.

Sherlock turns around and raised his arm, "BOOM!"

….

Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Hudson opens the front door of 221C and hands Sherlock a set of keys. Sherlock has been examining the padlock attached to the other door and now takes the keys and begins to unlock it.

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat?" Mrs. Hudson asks.

Sherlock looks at the keyhole closely, "The door's been opened recently."

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, "No, can't be. That's the only key."

"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements."

Sherlock turns the key and pulls the door open. He immediately goes inside and John and Lestrade follow, taking little or no notice of Mrs. Hudson as she continues rambling on, "I had a place once when I was first married. Black mold all up the walls ..." but stopped when the door shut in front of her.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock slowly pushes open the door to the living room and walks inside, followed by the other two. There is a pair of trainers placed neatly in the middle of the floor, their toes pointed towards the door. John stops and looks at them, "Shoes."

Sherlock starts to walk towards them but John holds out a cautionary hand towards him, "He's a bomber, remember."

Sherlock stops for a moment, then continues slowly towards the trainers. He crouches down, then puts his hands on the floor and leans forward. Lowering his body down he moves closer to the shoes and, just as his nose is almost touching them, a phone rings. Sherlock jumps, closes his eyes momentarily and then stands up, pulls off his glove and takes the pink iPhone from his coat pocket and looks at the caller "NUMBER BLOCKED". He pauses for a second, and then answers the phone, "Hello?"

"H-hello ... sexy," said a woman's voice who was now crying.

"Who's this?"

"I've ... sent you ... a little puzzle ... just to say hi," said the woman tearfully.

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I-I'm not ... crying ... I'm typing ... and this ... stupid ... bitch ... is reading it out."

Sherlock gaze up thoughtfully, "The curtain rises."

John looks at him with confusion, "What?"

"Nothing," Sherlock utters.

"No, what did you mean?"

"I've been expecting this for some time," he explains.

"Twelve hours to solve ... my puzzle, Sherlock … or I'm going ... to be ... so naughty."

…

In St. Barts Sherlock is sitting on the bench looking into the microscope while John is wondering around. Then the door opens and there was limping towards them.

"Hello," she whispers.

"How are you?" John smiles down at her.

Ophelia rub her eyes, "Tired."

"Do you want to sit down?" John asks.

Ophelia nods her head. John grabs a chair nearby; he picks her up and places her on the chair.

"Better?"

Ophelia nods, "What about school?"

"I called your teacher and she said she will give your assignments tomorrow, so you're fine."

"It hurts," Ophelia whimpers as she strokes her knee that was covered with a bandage knee.

John grabs her hand, "Don't touch it, it will make it worst."

Ophelia moans, "You always ruin everything,"

John chuckles, "Sorry,"

"What's daddy doing?" Ophelia looks at her dad with curiosity.

John turns around to face Sherlock, "Honestly I do not know."

"So, who d'you suppose it was?" John walks toward Sherlock.

A text alert interrupted but it did not bother Sherlock, "Hmm?"

"The woman on the phone, the crying woman."

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there."

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads."

"You're not going to be much use to her."

"Are-are they trying to trace it, trace the call?"

"The bomber's too smart," Ophelia utters as she rests her head on the table as if she was trying to sleep.

The same phone as before trills another text alert.

"Pass me my phone," Sherlock demands.

John looks around the room, "Where is it?"

"Jacket."

John straightens up slowly, his entire body going rigid in disbelief Turning to his right, he marches stiffly around the table, slams one hand onto Sherlock's shoulder and crudely pulls his jacket open with the other as he starts to dig in his inside pocket.

"Careful!" Sherlock yells angrily but does not look up at him.

John sighs heavily pulls the phone out and looks at it, "Text from your brother."

"Delete it," Sherlock demands.

John looks at him with disbelief, "Delete it?"

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important," John points out.

Sherlock raises his head in exasperation, "Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?"

"His what?"

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?"

Sherlock looks back to the microscope again while John turns off the phone, "Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

Sherlock looks up, "What for? This hospital's full of people dying, Doctor. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?"

John looks at him disbelief and unmoved. He put his hands on his pocket and felt something on his pocket. He took it out and there was a white envelope address to Sherlock.

"What is that?" Ophelia asks.

"Umm it's for your father; Mrs. Hudson gave it to me before we left. I forgot to give it to you."

Sherlock snatch the envelope for him and was ready to turn it to see who the letter was from, but before he could the computer beeps with results.

"Ah!"

Molly runs into the room, "Any luck?"

"Oh, yes!" said Sherlock triumphantly.

"Molly!" Ophelia sat up with delight.

"Ophelia, you're here!" Molly smiles at her widely.

Ophelia got up from her seat and runs to Molly and give her a huge hug, "I miss you Molly!"

"I miss you too? How are you?"

"I got stiches!" said Ophelia as she points at her bandage knee.

Molly gives her an awkward smile, "Oh… how… sweet."

Ophelia looks behind Molly and saw an awkward man wearing slacks and a T-shirt, comes in the door.

"Who's that?" she points to the man.

Everyone stop what they were doing and was now staring at the awkward man.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't ..."

"Jim! Hi! Come in! Come in!"

Molly makes introductions as Jim closes the door and walks over to her, "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah!"

John turns towards them, and Molly looks at him blankly, "Oh… sorry."

John sighs with disappointment, "John Watson. Hi."

"Hi."

"And Jim this is Ophelia Holmes, she's Sherlock's daughter," said Molly as she place her hands on Ophelia's shoulder.

Ophelia looks up at Jim and smiles widely, "Hello!"

Jim bends down to Ophelia's height and smiles, "Why aren't you the beauty!"

"Thank you,"

Jim dig through his pocket pants and took out a pack of gum.

"Do you like strawberry Ophelia?"

Ophelia nods with delight, "Yes."

"Would you like to have some strawberry flavor gum?"

Ophelia nods, "Yes!"

"Please," John whispers to her.

"Yes, please!" Ophelia corrects herself.

"You look very familiar, I bet you look like your mother," Jim gives her a mysterious smile.

"I don't know what my mother looks like."

"Well, I bet she was beautiful," Jim smiles at Sherlock who was looking at Jim with confusion.

Jim took out a piece of gum and hands it to her. He then gets up and looks at Sherlock, "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?"

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance," Molly giggles nervously.

Sherlock glances briefly round at Jim before returning to look into the microscope, "Gay."

Molly's smile drop, "Sorry what?"

Sherlock raises his head as he realises what he's just done, "Nothing. Um, hey," he gives Jim a fake smile.

Jim also smiles at him, "Hey," Lowering his hand; he knocks a metal dish off the edge of the table and scrambles to pick it up, "Sorry! Sorry!"

Sherlock looks in irritation while Jim puts the dish back on the table and then scratches his arm as he wanders back towards Molly, "Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Fox, 'bout sixish?"

"Yeah!"

He stops besides her, putting a hand on her back, and looks back towards Sherlock, "Bye."

"Bye," Molly replies softly.

"It was nice to meet you," said Jim as he stare at Sherlock who is ignoring him.

"You too," said John.

Jim blinks at him, looking awkward, then turns and leaves the room. Molly waits until the door closes then turns to Sherlock, "What d'you mean, gay? We're together."

Sherlock looks at her, "And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."

"Two and a half," Molly glares at him.

"Nuh, three."

"Sherlock," John gives him a warning."
"He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil ... He's not," said Molly angrily.

Sherlock scoffs, "With that level of personal grooming?"

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair."

"You wash your hair. There's a difference. No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear," Sherlock points out.

"He's underwear?" both Molly and Ophelia gives him a disgusting look.

"Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here... and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain," Sherlock smiles at her.

Molly stares at him for a moment, then turns and runs out of the room. Sherlock looks surprised at her reaction.

"Charming, well done," John said sarcastically.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?"

"Kinder"? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind."

"You're stupid," Ophelia glares at him as she starts to walks out (or limp) of the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sherlock snaps at her.

"I want to go see Molly."

"Molly's fine, but I need you right now."

Ophelia looks at him with confusion, "Daddy wants Ophelia?"

"No, I want the Queen of England yes you."

Ophelia groans and sits back on her chair, "What does daddy want?"

Sherlock smirks and place the shoe in front of her, "I want to hear your deduction."