Lestrade and Jessica were still at the Yard, writing out reports and taunting Greyson. It was just past noon, and a nasty thunderstorm was brewing outside. London had always been famed for its' constant drizzle, but out and out thunderstorms were uncommon. Jess was starting to get jumpy, a fact which Lestrade picked up on immediately.

Jess had been afraid of storms since she was a little girl. Her family had lived within the Texas stretch of Tornado Alley, and one had hit just before she moved to New London. It was still fresh in her mind as if it had only happened yesterday.

Meanwhile, Fenwick was inside her apartment, going through some drawers. He had climbed in through the window, which the chit had absently left open. He was having very little success. Moriarty had ordered him to search the girl's apartment for what he wanted. Fenwick doubted the girl even knew that she had it. It was a series of legal documents, the deeds to the Lestrade estate and probably half of the furnishings in Lestrade's flat. How it came into her hands he could only guess, but he didn't care.

Back at Baker Street, Holmes relayed the details of the case to his Irregulars. Like Watson, they were in disbelief. As Holmes continued to explain, Tennyson piped up with his synthesizer beeping exitedly. He probably would have had his hand raised and been bouncing in his seat if he wasn't typing on the synth.

"Do you want us to look for background on Jessica and her friends?"

"Yes, if you would." Holmes' tone was languid, but was underlain with a note of urgency. At this, his Irregulars saluted and marched out his door in single file. He had to admit, it was a comical sight.

Tennyson went straight home to his room, locking the door behind him. He sat down at his computer, flexing his fingers like a pianist. He found Sigerson's identity, though with difficulty. She wasn't on AOL or any other sort of easy-to-trace service. When he tried to reach her files, he was astonished to find a brand-new, personalized firewall blocking his way. He decided he had two choices: contact Sigerson via IRC and/or e-mail, or spend five days on the so-so chance of getting past the firewall.

He opened his e-mail application and began to type.

Wiggins was in the library, quietly scanning over birth and immunization records. He had been assigned Melissa, also apparently known online as Silvarius. Her online information was easy to trace, but finding out anything about her in real life was difficult. He was stuck, at the moment. Deidre was three seats down, surrounded by a stack of fashion magazines and several stacks of record books. She saw Wiggins looking at her and turned to face him, armed with several texts.

Oi've found at Jess and Mel are from the States, an' Sig is from Canadia.

You sound like you already know them.

Well, oi do. They jus' don' know me. Oi think Sigerson is somewhere in the southern provinces, but Oi'm still in the process o' tracin' Jessica and Silvarius. D'you think oi'd look good with short air like that? Wiggins gave a start and examined the magazine which had suddenly appeared under his nose.

Um, no?

Sactly. T'd be a shame to chop such lavish air. Takes ages ter grow back, y'know.



Author's notes: Thanks to all who reviewed - it helps a lot.