Sherlock picked them up in a dark Vauxhall Commodore. The leather seats were butter soft and when John made to ask about the car, Sherlock simply mumbled something about Mycroft and blackmail. Whatever the case may be, Rachel was grateful that they didn't have to do the 250 mile journey by train, and after some good nature bickering between the men, John triumphantly took the keys from Sherlock. Rachel was unsurprised to see the car stocked with all sorts of mobile chargers (Sherlock immediately plugged his in), tissues and even a pack of lollies in the glove box.

"So why are we going to Blackpool?" Sherlock asked.

"We're going to see a man called Rodney, who owns a pub near there. My gran had a … well she was an alcoholic. As much as you can be an alcoholic without regularly passing out. But she was fond of her G&Ts and Rodney was the barman who always served her. They got to know each other so well we started calling him her boyfriend. Despite the age difference, I mean, Rodney was old enough to be her son, they didn't seem to mind. In retrospect, maybe there was a grain of truth in calling him her boyfriend."

Rachel drew in on herself, mentally replaying what she knew about Rodney. Sherlock was engrossed in a manila folder that he pulled out as soon as they hit the M1. Rachel envied him the ability to read in the car, she always felt sick when she tried it.

The journey passed quickly and despite traffic on the M1 they made the journey in slightly less than four and a half hours. Rachel pulled out her phone and thanks to a navigation app, directed them to a small pub near the outskirts of town. The unassuming dark brick building sported a wooden sign proclaiming it to be The Maiden's Sigh. The last of the lunch crowd had trickled out by the time they arrived and the trio noisily trooped towards the bar.

There was a young Australian behind the bar and after getting a drink for everyone Rachel asked the barkeep if Rodney was in. The barkeep nodded and indicated that they should sit down; he'd get Rodney for them. Rachel watched him leave and fiddled with the cardboard coaster until a burly man came out of the kitchen. She could feel the tension leaving her body, the unspoken fear that something had happened to Rodney melt away. He walked stiffly; favouring his left leg (just like her) except his was an old war wound. Paul used to tease that Rodney was actually Santa working his day job.

"My, my little Rachel Templeton, it has been ages! How are you my dear?"

Rodney pulled her into a tight bear hug. He still smelt of Old Spice, and his beard was longer than what she remembered and tickled her neck.

Rachel introduced Rodney to Sherlock and John, and she was glad to see them both relax for a few minutes in the pub. Sherlock had an odd glint in his eyes but Rachel attributed that to newness of the pub.

They talked about old friends and family members until finally Rodney pulled down his small round spectacles and looked her in the eye.

"So what is this about, Rachel? I don't see or hear from you since the accident, Paul visits me a month ago and here you are on hot on his trail. What is going on?

Rachel had to take a deep breath. She would have to start getting used to the idea of telling people of Paul's death, but every time she did it was as if things just became more real. She told the story that she, John and Sherlock had agreed was the best possible to let other people know and when Rodney's face fell when he heard about Paul, her heart broke all over again. Tears welled up her face and she angrily wiped them away. There would be time for tears later, time to grieve.

"Rodney, I need to know if Paul asked you to keep anything last time he was here." She held her breath, knowing that the key to mystery was within reach.

"Well now… he did ask if I wouldn't mind keeping a package for him in the safe. I suppose since he won't come and pick it up I could hand it to you…" Rodney stiffly pulled himself up and hobbled over to the back of the pub. Sherlock took the opportunity to pull out his phone and send a flurry of text messages. Rodney returned with package, wrapped in brown wax paper. It felt like a book to Rachel, which didn't make any sense.

A scuffle started at the bar and Rodney stood up with a sigh.

"It must the bloody Aussie's fault. Doesn't know when to cut Barney off. Be back soon, Rach." He limped off with surprising speed and inserted himself in the thick of the argument.

The trio watched the old man deftly defuse the situation before stepping behind the bar. It was clear that he wouldn't have any more time to spare them today. Rachel motioned as if to wave goodbye and Rodney simply nodded.

The package felt heavy with expectation and she wanted to open it up then and there but Sherlock held out his hand expectantly. Without any real reason why, she handed him the wrapped package and watched as he slipped it into his coat.

They headed back towards the car and Sherlock had triumphantly pinched the keys from John. Rachel took the back seat this time and before they pulled out of the parking lot, Sherlock handed her his coat with the package still inside.

"Try to not advertise what we have there."

Rachel couldn't wait to tear the wrapping off the package and see what Paul had left behind. Just after they left Blackpool she tore the package open. Inside was a battered copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Rachel pawed through the pages, and was rewarded when a rewriteable CD-ROM fell into her lap.

Paul had died for this, she thought. It was lightweight, looked disarmingly normal, like any of the MP3 discs that littered her (or used to) living room. John handed her the netbook that he had started carrying around (easier to write the blogposts on the go) and she put the disc in with shaking hands.

File Directory D:/

Project

Operation_

With shaking hands she moved the cursor over Operation Liberty. Just as she was about to double click the icon, Sherlock's phone rang. The Bluetooth kicked in and Sherlock answered over the speaker phone. It was Mycroft.

The Governor had been released.