Sherlock prepared for Friday night by gathering as much information as he could about the family that Dawn was staying with. He asked members of his homeless network to watch their movements and looked up what he could on the Internet.
Dawn had been as thorough as she could have been. The family kept to themselves.
But there was a detail that Sherlock knew was missing, and he had to find it before Friday.
John was wary about all of it. He didn't trust anyone and he certainly didn't think it was safe to go gallivanting through someone else's house when they didn't even know what they were looking for. John was apprehensive about voicing his concerns for fear of angering Sherlock. But, John pointed out, they don't know what they're even looking for at the house, so why do they have to go?
He finished making his lunch in the kitchen and brought it over to the sitting room, where he sat in his chair across from Sherlock, who was busy on his computer.
"Sherlock?" John asked.
No answer.
"Sherlock?" He asked in a louder voice.
No response.
"SHERLOCK!" John shouted.
Sherlock responded with "Hmm," barely a grunt and a meager acknowledgment.
"Sherlock, what exactly is it that we are looking for at this house on Friday? Why do you think Dawn is in so much danger?"
Still clacking away on his computer he responded, "It's mostly intuition. If I had a sister, I wouldn't let her work at that house."
"Yes, but why? I mean, what exactly are we looking for here on Friday?" pressed John.
"It's not a 'what' John, but 'who'." Just then, Sherlock whipped his computer screen around and showed a photo of a young woman with short, asymmetrical brown hair with a smile plastered on her face.
"Isn't that Dawn?" John asked, squinting a bit at the screen.
"Here." Sherlock handed the laptop over so John could see.
While the woman in the picture had a strong resemblance to Dawn, the woman was not Dawn at all. Here lips weren't as full, cheekbones not as pronounced… her teeth structure was slightly different and her hair wasn't exactly the same. John scrolled a bit more.
A man named Stephen Marbel had posted the photo on his Facebook page. Looking through the man's history, John found that Stephen and this young woman, Erica, were in a serious relationship, engaged to be married, even. That is, until about 2 months ago. The man changed his profile picture and posted sappy statuses and song lyrics, which, to John, was indicative of a break up. But the most recent photo of Erica was posted with a "Missing" caption above it. In the man's post, he detailed how he believed that Erica had gone missing. He couldn't understand why she would dump him so suddenly and out of the blue and why she won't contact him any more. They were best friends, lovers; why would she leave him so suddenly? He said the police have no reason to suspect that she has gone missing, as the parents had been contacted and Erica was located. But, he was firm in his belief that she was in some sort of danger.
"So, who is Erica?" John asked.
"Erica is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bytella, the couple that Dawn Wadsworth is working for."
A dark idea started forming in John's head.
"If Erica is their daughter, then why didn't Dawn mention her?"
"That's precisely the question I asked myself. We have all the information, now, though. The answer is quite more disturbing than I anticipated." Sherlock looked off at the wall for a moment lost in thought.
"You think that Dawn is filling in for Erica? Where could Erica be then? You don't think her parents could've…."
"I don't know. That's why we have to search that house on Friday. I think the parents are keeping Erica hidden away upstairs. I don't know why, though… perhaps her engagement to this Stephen Marbel? Dawn mentioned when she sat at the window a man walked by and looked at her… what if that was Stephen looking for Erica?"
"You think the parents are having Dawn dress and look like Erica to cover up for whatever they're doing to her?"
"I believe so. Why else would she be asked to wear her hair a specific way and dress a certain way? They look so similar…" Sherlock's voice trailed off as he turned the computer screen back to himself and gazed at the picture of Erica.
"Sherlock, I don't think we should wait until Friday on this. That's two days away. If Erica's alive, we need to get her out of there as soon as possible. We should call Lestrade."
"Yes. I've been considering this as well. Perhaps it is our best option based on this information. I'll call him now."
Sherlock made the call to Lestrade and they all decided that the next morning, Thursday morning, while Mr. Bytella was at work, would be the best time to look for Erica. Lestrade got a warrant late on Wednesday night after the information he received from Sherlock.
On Thursday morning, prior to searching the Bytella's home, John dressed and got ready at 221 B Baker Street, feeling sick to his stomach. He didn't like this case. There were so many unknowns. He had practically forgotten the blue diamond affair, having been so caught up in Dawn and Erica and the Bytella's. His primary concern was for Erica. Dawn would be at the house on Thursday, but John didn't think the mother or little boy posed much of a threat to her. Sherlock had warned her on Wednesday night about their plan for Thursday morning, without revealing too much information about why they were doing it.
And so it was that at 10AM, at least four policemen, including Donovan, Lestrade, Sherlock, and John, all showed up at the Bytella's home on Thursday. As they all were approaching the door, the mother opened it up and called out,
"What's this all about, then? Can I help you?"
Lestrade responded, "Mrs. Bytella, we have a warrant to search your home."
"A warrant?" she asked, as they all stepped up onto the porch, "For what?"
Without answering Sherlock stepped by the woman and headed straight up the stairs, with Lestrade and John following close behind. Donovan stayed downstairs with the three other policemen, Dawn, and the little boy, who had been cluelessly playing with Legos in the playroom off the main entrance.
Once up the stairs, Sherlock noted that this part of the house had not been renovated. The wallpaper was old and peeling in spots, it was drafty, and the old wooden floors creaked loudly under his feet. It was such a contrast to the lower level that had been renovated to look modern and updated.
Sherlock walked down a long hallway filled with open doors that led to various bedrooms and bathrooms. There was one door at the very end of the hallway, however, that remained shut. Ignoring all other rooms, Sherlock immediately tried opening the last, closed door in the hallway, only to find it locked. He pressed his ear to the door and called out,
"Hello? Is anybody in there?"
There was no answer, but Sherlock took out his lock picking tools from his pocket and had the door unlocked within seconds. Gently pushing the door open, Sherlock slowly entered the dusty, drafty room, empty of any furniture, except for a bedframe and mattress in the center of the room. The windows had been covered by black out curtains, the only light filtering in from the hallway.
Sherlock went to the closest window to his right and pulled open one of the curtains allowing light to stream into the room and reveal the body of a girl lying on the mattress, handcuffed to the bedframe. She wore only thin shorts and tank top, with no sheets or blanket to help her stay warm in the chilly room. The room reeked of urine and feces.
John went to the girl's side immediately to feel for a pulse. Lestrade trailed behind, grimacing. It was evident by the bruises on the girls face and body and the dried blood on the mattress that she had been beaten repeatedly and over a course of several weeks. Sherlock started to explore the room further, looking for weapons, clues, anything to explain this situation further. He glanced under the bedframe and found a storage container filled with a short wooden paddle, a belt, another set of handcuffs, zipties, and a hammer.
Sherlock pointed to the container while looking at Greg, who was on the phone calling an ambulance and a forensic team to his location. He contacted another detective at the Yard to go and arrest Mr. Bytella for his involvement in this case.
Greg nodded, glancing at it.
John piped up, saying, "She's alive. Barely. She's severely dehydrated and malnourished. She's got a few cracked ribs, her right ankle has been shattered, and some of her fingers are broken." He tried to gently wake Erica by gently tapping her face and calling her name. A low moan was his only response.
"I'm worried about head trauma as well. It doesn't appear that she has any skull fractures, but I can't know that for sure. The bruises on her face tell me that she may have a concussion, too." John continued.
Sherlock was still looking around the room, examining, picturing everything that happened in this room, though it be gruesome. It wasn't adding up. Why had these parents tortured and hid their daughter this way? What were they thinking? What was their motive?
As he started pacing around the room, Sherlock froze when a particular floorboard protested and creaked beneath his weight. It was a squeaky creak, and the board shifted a bit beneath him. Sherlock bent down and used his fingers to pry up the board. To his surprise, he was able to reach under the floorboard and pick up a dusty, velvet jewelry box used to hold or display a necklace or bracelet. He opened up the box and to his surprise, a blue, glittering diamond shone back at him.
"John." Sherlock said, unable to move.
"Yeah?" John responded, walking up behind him. He froze when he saw what was in Sherlock's hands.
"What?" Lestrade said as he hung up his phone.
Just then, paramedics entered the room and Lestrade directed them to the girl on the bed, answering some basic questions. The forensic team arrived at about that time as well, but Lestrade kept them out while the paramedics worked.
Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were transfixed with the sight of the blue diamond.
"How did that get here?" asked John.
"I have no idea." Sherlock responded.
"What are we going to do with it?" asked John.
"I have no idea." Sherlock repeated.
Suddenly, Sherlock's phone rang in his pocket. The number was unrecognized, but something compelled him to answer it anyways.
"Hello?" Sherlock answered.
A deep voice, distorted by a voice changer responded with,
"Did you miss me?"