Watson stood outside the iron gates of the door of the evidence room at Scotland Yard while Sherlock himself stood inside, hovering inquisitively over the tarp draped out over the surface of the desk against the wall. A single bright light shone down blindingly over the tarp, causing Sherlock to cast a deep, dark silhouette over the beige colored tarp. Using a magnifying glass and a pair of tweezers Sherlock painstakingly examined every fiber woven into the tarp as he sought the much needed evidence required to convict Eric Rathe for the brutal murder of Mycroft Holmes.

"Excuse me, Dr. Watson." The new recruit to Scotland Yard approached the doctor as he stood outside the door with his arms folded tightly over his chest. "Inspector Lestrade was looking for you. He's in his office."

"Oh?" Watson turned to look at the young officer, the unfamiliar face made it difficult to recollect the name mentioned earlier. Dropping his arms to his sides Watson turned to face the young man. "Your name is... Harrison, yes?"

"Yes, sir. Leon Harrison from Brighton."

"Thank you Harrison." Watson cleared his throat as he went to take a step pass the officer toward Lestrade's office just a few doors down.

"He's looking for clues, yeah?" Harrison asked as he stared through the iron bars at Sherlock, who remained unaware of any eyes watching his movement.

"Yes." Watson confirmed with a confident tone. "And if there is anything to be found then it'll be Sherlock Holmes who finds it."

Journeying down the corridor Watson knocked on the closed door to Lestrade's office before letting himself inside. Inspector Lestrade was standing with his hands in his coat pockets and back to the door as he looked out the lone window of his office out to the streets beyond the building.

"Inspector, you wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, doctor." Lestrade turned around slowly to look at the good doctor as he approached the desk in the middle of the office. A tray with a steaming teapot and two cups upon two saucers sat idle like an elegant decoration. "I need to know how well Holmes is holding up."

"He seems to be fine. For the moment..."

"For the moment?"

"He's still in mourning for his brother, it'll be some time before he's able to return to work without an emotional weight on his shoulders." Watson explained sympathetically. "All things considered he's performing admirably. He managed to locate a trail left behind by Rathe heading West."

"West, eh? I'll be sure to have my men check for any suspicious activity or persons West of the docks. Anything else I should know about Holmes' condition?"

"Aside from being exhausted, no, Holmes doesn't need any special supervision while he investigates the case." Watson arched his brow a little as he studied Lerstrade's reaction. "That is what you were trying to ask, was it not? Does Holmes need to be watched?"

"In a way, yes." Lestrade admitted, feeling rude and embarrassed by the question. Motioning with a nod toward the tea on his desk Lestrade offered the drink to both Watson and Sherlock. "This was brought in for me by Harrison a few minutes ago, would you mind giving it to Holmes? If he's as tired as you say then I don't want him collapsing from poor nutrition."

"Good idea Lestrade, but aren't you going to have any? It smells wonderful!"

"Me? No. I don't care for tea unless it's specifically prepared by my wife. She has a special touch, I swear to it!"

Watson chuckled lightly at the remark as Lestrade took his leave of the office. Buttoning the front of his coat Lestrade spoke to Watson with a slightly turn of his head over his shoulder. "I'll search the docks and focus on any activity toward the West. You take care of Holmes."

"I will."

The door to the office closed behind Lestrade leaving Watson alone inside the isolated room. Reaching out for the teapot Watson picked it up by the handle and opened the lid to peer down at the contents contained inside. The tea leaves were gathered together in a neat bundle within the metal strainer as it steeped inside the steaming hot water. There was a sweet smell emanating from the leaves, but despite his familiarity with most types of tea Watson couldn't place the scent, and therefore the type of tea that had been left for Lestrade.

"Not Jasmine," Watson observed as he poured himself a cup of the tea and took in the intoxicating aroma once more. "but it should be something pleasant nonetheless."

Taking a tentative sip Watson tried and failed the place the flavor of the tea.

"Very sweet. How unusual..."

Sherlock's eyes were bloodshot from strain as he peered through the lens of the magnifying glass in the midst of the intense light. The tarp had failed to provide a single shred of evidence despite Sherlock's expectations. Surely during transport from the warehouse to the evidence room what precious fibers that had clung to the tarp had been lost along the way.

"Damn it!" Sherlock slammed his fist down on the table in an enraged response. Reaching up one hand he turned off the light and pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose as fatigue had brought about an intense headache that mirrored his disappointment. As he leaned forward against the desk he planted his palms flatly against the desktop a male voice addressed him through the bars.

"No luck, eh? The tarp didn't have anything useful on it?"

Sherlock turned his head and eyed officer Harrison watching him from the other side of the door. "Evidently not." Sherlock replied coldly as he stared at the officer with red eyes.

"You'll find something, I'm sure of it." Harrison displayed an unusual grin as he watched the dismayed detective starting to lose faith in his own abilities to solve the case. "Chin up!"

Turning away from the young, unfamiliar officer Sherlock bowed his head and closed his eyes as he mentally contemplated what little information he had managed to gather upon his return to the warehouse several hours prior. The silence of the evidence room was disrupted suddenly by the distinct sound of crashing china and heavy 'thud' against a wooden floor.

The sound itself was coming from a room few doors away from the evidence room.

"What was that?" Harrison asked with a dumbfounded tone as he looked about confusedly. "Sounds like some clumsy bloke dropped a box or something."

Sherlock lifted his head quickly and turned his gaze through the iron bars of the door, his eyes scanning the corridor for any sign of haste or panic as he traced the origin of the loud commotion through his familiarity with the layout of the large building.

"That was not a box." Sherlock deduced instinctively, noting the way the commotion resonated was inconsistent with a single item falling. It was ominously close as well. "That sound came from Lestrade's office!"

...to be continued...