Once sitting in a booth by the window, Sherlock holds his hands to his mouth in a steeple.

"Two men travel back to China, head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium."

"It's what they brought in those suitcases," Sherlock figures, moving his hands away from his mouth.

"And you don't mean duty free," I reply quietly.

"Think about what Sebastian told us. About Van Coon, about how he stayed afloat in the market."

"Lost five million, made it back in a week." I gasp in realization. "That's how he made such easy money. He was a smuggler."

"I reckon it would have been perfect." He looks out the window, lost in thought. "Businessman, making frequent trips to Asia. Lukis was the same, a journalist writing about China. Both of them smuggled stuff about."

"The Lucky Cat was their drop off," I figure. If they were killed even after they finished the job, someone must have lifted something. Sherlock thinks the same, saying it out loud.

"The killer didn't know which one stole anything, so he killed them both." I look out the window, then do a double-take to the rain covered phone book by a flat door.

"Sherlock, remind me, when was the last time it rained?" I ask him, pointing to the phone book. He turns to look, then rushes out the door. I follow closely behind, watching him try and flip through the wet pages.

"It's been here since Monday," he answers, ringing the doorbell. No one answers, so he heads to the back of the building to try and sneak in. He pulls on the fire escape, quickly running up. I try and follow, but the stairs ascend after him. Being too short to jump and get them, I head back to the street and ring the doorbell.

"Mind letting me in this time?" I ask through the door. No answer. "Yes, of course. I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no one can compare to my massive intellect!" I try ringing the doorbell once more before sighing in frustration. A few moments later and the door opens, revealing a disheveled Sherlock.

"The milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell. Someone left in a hurry three days ago," he says hoarsely.

"What happened up there?" I ask him, but he ignores me.

"We have to find her, Soo Lin Yao," he says instead, picking up a folded envelope.

"Did they hurt you?" I ask louder, and he just looks at me.

"We can start with this." He holds up the envelope and starts walking away. I stop him and pull his scarf off, revealing a purple mark forming on his pale neck.

"Sherlock," I sigh, watching him start walking again.


"When was the last time you saw her?" Sherlock asks Andy, the museum worker, about Soo Lin.

"About three weeks ago, here, at the museum," he answers. "This morning they told me she'd resigned. Just like that, left her work unfinished." Sherlock analyzes the room as he speaks.

"What was the last thing she did on her final afternoon?" I ask, gazing at the teapots for a moment before looking back at Andy.

"She was down in the basement, putting away the artifacts."

"Great, show me," Sherlock says, waiting for him to take us down there. Once we descend the stairs, Andy turns on the lights and leads us to the storage area for the teapots.

"She does this demonstration for the tourists, a tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and just put them in here." He starts opening the door, and a flash of yellow catches my eye. I walk over to a statue defaced with graffiti. Dead man. "What is that?"

"I think we're done here," Sherlock says. "Come on, Jane." I turn around to look at him for a moment, and follow him out of the museum. "We need to get to Soo Lin Yao."

"If she's still alive," I say quietly.

"OI!" A shout makes Sherlock stop, looking at the man running closer to us. "Found something you'll like," Raz tells us, motioning his arm for us to follow. We follow to a skate park, with graffiti scattered carelessly around the structure.

"If you want to hide a tree, a forest would be the best place to do it, wouldn't you say?" Sherlock says to no one.

"People walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message," I notice.

"There," Raz points to a small symbol partially hidden by other graffiti. "Spotted it earlier."

"It's the exact same paint?" Sherlock asks.

"Yes."

"If we're going to decipher this code, we're going to need more evidence," I say, walking away. "I'm going to look around." I walk out of the skating structure, pulling a flashlight out of my coat pocket. My phone rings suddenly, breaking the silence. "Hello?" I say, answering without looking at caller ID.

"I'm surprised you haven't told Sherlock everything you know yet," my brother's voice says from the other side.

"I told you I wouldn't, Jim."

"Yes, you did."

"But why the Black Lotus?"

"I have my reasons."

"Thanks, Jim. Are there any other memories I should suppress, or is the secret society all you have for me this week?"

"I guess you'll find out." He hangs up without another word. I put my phone in my pocket as I spot tiny yellow dots on the boards of the tracks. I follow them until they get more concentrated, and look up. An entire wall covered in graffiti stands before me, making me gasp. I try and call Sherlock a few times, but he doesn't answer. I quickly take a photo and run back to where the others were.

"Answer your bloody phone, I've been calling," I gasp out between breaths. "I found it." Sherlock trails after me as I lead him to the wall. When we approach, I shine my flashlight on it to see a bare wall. "It was right here. Ten minutes ago, it was here."

"Someone doesn't want me to see it," Sherlock figures, walking towards me. He puts his hands on my temples, pulling me in a circle around him. "I need you to concentrate."

"Sherlock-" I start.

"You need to maximize your visual memory, try to picture it in your mind."

"Sherlock-"

"Can you remember? How much can you remember?"

"SHERLOCK!" I yell, making him retract his hands and step away. "I took a photograph, I'm not stupid." I pull it out and offer it to him.

"Oh," he says, grabbing for my phone. He looks at the photo for a moment before running in a different direction.

"Thanks for waiting for me," I mutter to myself. "Really, you shouldn't have."