Etheldrea was on high alert for a week, just waiting for the next moment Moriarty would strike. By the end of week two, she relaxed just a bit. Week three came, then a month, and then two. The press left them alone ages ago, they took small cases, and everything was just fine. Life was bustling along smoothly, and school had just ended for Etheldrea. Now her only problem was figuring out how to occupy her day. She still didn't go on cases, and after rereading every book on her shelves twice, she was getting bored.

Maybe she should join the Yard as a researcher or something. It wasn't the ideal job she had been waiting for, she couldn't start training as a constable until she was eighteen, but at sixteen it was possible to join as a volunteer. She'd have something to do then, and she supposed it would look good on her resume. Besides, she could give passing comments to other officers, check records and all kinds of other stuff she normally shouldn't.

She had been lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she thought this over, and was prepared to make up her mind to do it. Just a quick a quick run to the Yard, fill out a few forms, and she'd be good. Boredom gone, time consumed, and probably glaring looks from her father. Sherlock didn't not approve of her joining the Yard, but he could be very selfish at times and he often wanted Etheldrea along for all cases. The fact that she would sit on the couch as he and John were rushing to get out was at time infuriating, she could tell.

Etheldrea swung her legs over the edge of her bed, got up, and walked into the living room. She grabbed her coat and scarf, prompting to Sherlock to look up in confusion. He had been on John's laptop.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Scotland Yard. Getting a job."

He huffed and rolled his eyes, "Boring."

"Yes, well, it was bound to happen someday."

"You could follow after me. What about when I'm dead? Someone needs to help the idiots at the Yard."

"There's only one consulting detective in this world, as you so like to remind everyone, and in no way shape or form could it ever be me."

"Why not?"

She smiled, "You're a tough act to follow, dad. Besides, you're not dying for another what, sixty, seventy years? I'll be too old to do any detective business by then."

"What are you saying? Am I old?"

"Are you stalling me?"

". . . Possibly."

There was a knock downstairs; someone was at the door, a client it sounded like.

Sherlock stood up and walked over to Etheldrea. He pulled her scarf off and tossed it over the coat hanger and then pushed her over to John's chair. He also grabbed her coat out of her arms and tossed that over his chair.

"John's not here, you'll need to stay."

"But I'm not-"

"As your father I order you to."

"You can't-"

Inspector Lestrade and Sergeant Donavan walked into the room.

"Hey Etheldrea." Lestrade said, "Long time, no see."

Donavan muttered, "Not long enough."

Lestrade said quickly, "Are you helping today?"

"No I'm-"

Sherlock said, "Yes, she is."

"-never going to finish a sentence."

Lestrade passed a file to Sherlock, he glanced it over and then to Etheldrea. It was a kidnapping, two children. At the moment, it really didn't seem like an exciting case. Just wait for the ransom note, that's all you can do. Still, she didn't like the idea of two young kids just waiting for rescue when no one was doing anything.

There was some thumping from below them, and then John came upstairs. He had gone to the shops or supposedly had gone to the shops since he had no bags. Etheldrea suspected Mycroft.

"Sherlock, there's something weird-" John stopped when he saw Lestrade and Donavan, "What's going on?"

Sherlock went to his computer, "Kidnapping."

Lestrade informed him, "Rufus Bruhl, the Ambassador to the US."

"He's in Washington, isn't he?"

"Not him. His children. Max and Claudette. Aged seven and nine. They're at St. Adate's."

Sally said, "Posh boarding place down in Surrey."

"School broke up. All the other boarders went home. Just a few kids remained, including those two."

"The kids have vanished."

He looked to Sherlock, "The Ambassadors asked for you personally."

"The Reichenbach hero." Sally said a bit sarcastic.

Sherlock stood up and walked to get his coat, ignoring her. He also grabbed Etheldrea's coat and scarf, and then her arm and pushed her out the door. John rolled his eyes and Lestrade nearly smiled despite the situation.

"Isn't it great to be working with a celebrity?"

The car stopped at the boarding school. Etheldrea tried to stay in but Sherlock pulled her out. She wanted to protest but tension was thick all around her, and setting up and argument was completely unnecessary right now.

Lestrade led them over to an elder woman with curly brown hair that looked crestfallen. She sniffled into a kerchief and had on an orange shock blanket.

Lestrade said, "Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress. Go easy."

Sherlock walked to her and they watched.

"Miss Mackenzie. You're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night! What are you, an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?" he ripped the blanket off, "Now, quickly, tell me!"

"All the door and windows were properly bolted. No one, not even me, went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" she cried.

"I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly. Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now."

He walked into the school, and John and Etheldrea looked at him with similar expressions of irritation. But, nonetheless they followed him inside while an officer helped the poor woman. The first stop was the girls room.

It was mostly empty, bed spreads gone, personal belongings away. The only girl who had been here was the one missing.

John remarked, "Six grand a term, you'd expect them to keep the kids safe for you. So the other kids had all left on their holidays?"

"They were the only two sleeping on this floor." Lestrade answered, "Absolutely no sign of a break in. The intruder must have been hidden inside someplace."

Sherlock, who had been looking through a stage closet, dropped a lacrosse stick on the ground, and moved to a chest by the girl's bed. The only odd thing in there was a book of fairy tales inside a parchment envelope. Etheldrea could see it had a red seal, broken open.

"Show me where the brother slept." Sherlock ordered.

They walked to the room, searching around. There was a bitter, earthy smell in the air. Etheldrea saw a bookcase filled with spy novels. She had gone through that phase once, and to this day she still used some of the things they had taught.

Sherlock pointed to the bed, "Boy sleeps there every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor. He'd recognise every shape, every outline. The silhouette of everyone who came to the door."

"Okay, so?"

"So, someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognise, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon."

He walked outside the frosted door and showed them what it would look like. He came back in and started searching around.

Sally scoffed, "How could a kid do that?"

Etheldrea said, "I could. Think about it. They're here every day and for how many years? I can recognise footsteps with my eyes closed. I could tell it was you two coming up to the flat before you even spoke."

Sherlock ignored them, "What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out? This little boy, this particular little boy, who reads all of those spy books. What would he do?"

"He'd leave a sign?" Lestrade asked.

Etheldrea nodded, "Well, of course. But what? What does he have within reach?"

Sherlock sniffed the air, and then picked up a sports bat and sniffed that. He got down to his knees and reached under the bed. From it, he pulled out a nearly empty bottle of yellow oil.

"Get Anderson."

A short while later, the room and hallway surrounding it were nearly pitch black. Shutters covered windows inside the boy's room, and black tarps covered the windows in the hall. Sherlock took a black light, flipped it on and found a message near the bed.

HELP US

"Linseed oil."

Anderson said, "Not much use. Doesn't lead us to the kidnapper."

"Brilliant, Anderson."

"Really?"

"Yes, brilliant impression of an idiot."

Sherlock pointed down, "The floor."

"He made a trail for us."

The room had a trail of footsteps, a mix of the kidnappers and the children's, walking out the door. The five slowly followed them, stopping when the trail ended.

"The boy was made to walk ahead of them."

"On tiptoe?"

"Indicates anxiety. Gun held to his head. The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled about her neck."

Anderson said, "That's the end of it. We don't know where they went from here. Tells us nothing after all."

"You're right, Anderson. Nothing." Sherlock said condescendingly, "Except his shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace."

He pulled the tarp off the window and started to examine the floor. After he laughed a bit, John sighed and kneeled next to him.

"Having fun?"

"Starting to."

"Maybe don't do the smiling. Kidnapped children?"

"Fine."

"Imagine this is Etheldrea."

"She's standing right behind you."

John rolled his eyes and stood up. Etheldrea watched as he pulled out his tool kit and chipped some of the wood where a footprint was and put the chips into a container. She crossed her arms and shifted on her feet.

"Exactly, what am I doing here?" she asked.

"Helping. Kidnapping. You like to help those." He tossed her the container, "You hold these. When we get to Bart's lab, you can help identify what's in it."

She bit her tongue, ready to fight against him, but he was right. She did like kidnappings, and not in the way Donavan thought her dad liked cases. She had rescued a few kids in her time, had found them and got them back home. It was a rewarding feeling, more so than finding stolen objects or solving murders, or finishing a book series.

Sherlock told Lestrade where they were going, and John and a reluctant Etheldrea followed. She kept the container in her messenger bag. A few minutes later, they were in a cab and on their way.

"How did he get past the CCTV?" John asked, "If all the doors were locked."

"He walked in when they weren't locked."

"A stranger can't just walk into a school like that."

"Anyone can walk in anywhere if they pick the right moment.. When I picked Etheldrea up from school a few months ago, I walked straight in, didn't even go to the office. There should have been an intruder drill. Everyone was preoccupied with the news."

"You're her parent though."

Sherlock sighed, "Yesterday, end of term, parents milling around, chauffeurs, staff. What's one more stranger among that lot? He was waiting for them. All he had to do was find a place to hide."

Sherlock stared out the window for the rest of the trip, seeming to be think about something. When they got to St. Bart's, before going to the lab, he went to the cafeteria and bought some crisps. Then he led them towards the labs, and were just in time to see Molly leaving.

"Molly!" Sherlock said in greeting.

"Oh, hello. I'm just getting out."

Sherlock grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her round, "No, you're not."

"I've got a lunch date."

"Cancel it, you're having lunch with me." He pulled out the crisps and flailed them around.

"What?"

"Need your help. It's one of your boyfriends. We're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty."

"It's Moriarty?" John asked.

Etheldrea and Molly both stopped walking.

"Of course it's Moriarty."

Molly said, "Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it."

"Yes and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England, and organized a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly."

He waved the crisps again, and then walked into the lab. Etheldrea rolled her eyes and followed him. Immediately, he started grabbing the equipment he needed. Etheldrea pulled out the wood chips and set them on the lab, and she started to walked out.

"You're not going anywhere." Sherlock said, "Start finding out what components are on the chips."

"I'm not going to get myself involved in anything that has to do with Moriarty."

"If you don't, how will you know if we're safe? What if this turns out to be something like those bombings?"

"The Great Game? You mean the case that you barely let me take part in because you thought it would be too dangerous for me?"

"We are a team, remember?"

"Are you sure? Because you don't act like it sometimes."

"You can take care of yourself, I know you can. Start with identifying any metals."

"I'm not-"

"You are. That's an order. If you're not going to think of this as a case, think of it as a chore. Now, start analyzing."

Etheldrea had half a mind to turn around and leave, but she didn't. Along with Molly, they worked on identifying the components. Chalk was one, and then asphalt. Traces of vegetation were found, and then brick dust. There was a fifth element that no one could identify just yet, but it did have some glycerol molecules in it.

Eventually, Etheldrea drifted over to John and helped him sort through the cases pictures. There wasn't much that looked out of order, nothing new to see. She could only just hear Molly and Sherlock talking, but she didn't pay attention. Eventually, John found what he thought was an important photo. It was the fairytale book they had found.

He called, "Sherlock."

"Hmm?"

"This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one."

"What?"

John walked to his jacket and pulled it out, "On our doorstep. Found it today. Yes, and look at that."

Etheldrea looked it over, and then He walked over and showed it to Sherlock.

"Look at that. Exactly the same seal."

Sherlock reached inside and pulled out the contents, "Breadcrumbs."

"Uh-huh. It was there when I got back."

"A little trace of breadcrumbs; hardback copy of fairy tales. Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of breadcrumbs."

"That's Hansel and Gretel. What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?"

"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game. He sat in our flat and he said these exact words to me 'All fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain.'

He put the envelope down and looked into the microscope.

Etheldrea said, "That's why you said it was Moriarty, the fairytale book. I just thought you were grabbing straws."

"I never do that."

"Oh, please."

He ignored her, "The fifth substance, it's part of the tale. The witch's house."

"What?" John asked.

Sherlock looked up at them, "The glycerol molecule. PGPR!"

"What's that?"

Sherlock got to his feet and walked away, "It's used in making chocolate."

As they made their way to a cab, Etheldrea received a text.

422215 25322321224241 3436233223154141 121542421536

4511421322 334342. 422215 143611213332 2341 313331233221.

Xx JM

If anyone can figure it out, you get 100 nonexistent points!