SO sorry this is irregularly posted. I've been very distracted lately, working on other things and stories and stuff. I'm about halfway through this episode, which should be easy to finish. (It's Great Game, that'll take forever, just telling you now.)


I make it back to the flat shortly after our run-in with the police. I had lost Sherlock on the way, so the flat is empty when I arrive. After I catch my breath, I sit in my armchair and pull out my phone. It vibrated twice while I was running, so I know I have two new texts to read. The first is from Harry, wanting to talk about their wedding. The second is from Jim.

You know this game, Jane. Play it. JM.

I feel a chill travel down my spine as I feel a weight settle in my stomach.

"What is it?" Sherlock asks suddenly, startling me.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"I arrived shortly after you did, what's wrong? Your face is giving you away."

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"I've never seen someone run that fast in my life," he comments, dropping the previous subject. "Almost like you've been arrested before."

"I have been," I say casually. "Three years ago, after I came back from Afghanistan. I was apparently loitering in a 24-Hour diner, when all I wanted was some free coffee. They wouldn't give it to me because I looked homeless. Well, I was homeless, but that's not the point."

"Interesting story. I need to find out how these two men connect to each other."

"Or just don't care about me, that's alright I guess."

"I'm sorry, you're right," he states sarcastically. "Let's focus on you instead of the murderer running around."

"Okay, sorry I said anything." I avoid his eye contact as we sit silently for a few more minutes.

"I need you to go to the station, talk to Dimmock and see what you can get to track Lukis' movements. A diary, to-do list, anything."

"No." His brows furrow in confusion. "I was almost arrested again today, I can't just waltz into the station like you can."

"I don't waltz," he replies, turning away again. "You have to, I need you to."

"You just want me to do your work for you."

"I can't be in two places at once, Jane! I need you to track Lukis while I track Van Coon. Please." I sit quietly, thinking, before nodding slowly.

"I'll try my best. What is it you need?"

"Something to track Lukis' movements. Diary, anything. I'm going to talk to Van Coon's PA and see what I can find." He stands, grabbing my hand and helping me up. He pulls me closer, his eyes meeting mine as we stand together. I notice his eyes darting quickly between my eyes and my mouth. I begin to lean forward to meet him, but he steps back before it's noticed. He clears his throat. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I say, watching him leave the flat. I breathe deeply for a moment, letting my brain process what just happened, before following him outside.


I trail after DI Dimmock as he walks towards Lukis' possessions, which are being stored in various boxes in Scotland Yard.

"Listen, your friend-" He starts, digging through the boxes.

"Whatever you say, I'm behind you 100%." He stops and looks at me. "More like 95%. Okay, 75%."

"He's an arrogant sod," he states, returning to the box.

"Bit mild. People say a lot worse than that." He looks at me again, holding out a book.

"This is what you wanted? The journalist's diary?" I take it and flip through, spotting a boarding pass between its pages.

"Yes, thank you." I turn to leave, glad to get out of there.


I read the diary as I walk toward the West End, trying to find a certain shop the pages had mentioned. Suddenly, I feel someone collide with me, and look up to see Sherlock mid-thought.

"Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died, whatever was hidden inside that case." I look across the street to see the shop I was looking for, and try to get Sherlock's attention. "I've managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information. Credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China then came here."

"Sherlock," I try, but he keeps going.

"Somewhere in this street, somewhere near. I don't know where, but-"

"That shop, over there," I cut him off, pointing across the street.

"How could you tell?" He asks, almost confused.

"Lukis' diary, he was here too. He wrote down the address," I explain.

"Oh," he states, following me as we start towards the shop. The bell rings when we walk through the door, various waving cats greeting us.

"Hello," I say to the shop owner as we start looking at the trinkets for sale.

"You want lucky cat?" She says after a moment, offering one to Sherlock. He looks at it, then at me, before shaking his head.

"No thank you," he says politely.

"Ten pound, ten pound! Your wife, I think she will like."

"She's allergic," he lies, turning around to look again. I walk up to the counter and look at the old woman for a moment.

"He's joking," I tell her in Mandarin. "We already have one at home."

"That man of yours is very strange, you are a strong woman to love him," she replies easily with her native language.

"Thank you. I hope you won't kick us out because of him."

"I'll let it slide, just this once," she smiles. I smile to her, picking up a small cup that caught my eye. Looking at the bottom, I see a familiar character on the label.

"Darling," I say in English, keeping up the façade and getting Sherlock's attention. "Look at this beautiful cup." He comes over to look at it, and I point towards the label.

"I see, the same-"

"Exactly the same." I set it down and turn to the shop lady again. "Thank you, have a good day." Sherlock starts out the door, holding it open for me when I reach it.

"It's an ancient numbering system," he starts down the street.

"Hangzhou," I reply, speeding to catch up with him.

"These days, only street traders use it."

"Those were the numbers on the wall at the bank and the library. Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect. A one and a fifteen." Sherlock suddenly stops, and I run into his back. "Sorry."

"Hungry?" He asks, walking across the street to a restaurant.

"Are you?" I ask in return.

"No, but I need to think. It's not quiet enough out here. Let's go, I'll pay."

"I'd make you pay anyway," I mutter, trailing after him as he enters the building.