"How many murders is it going to take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" I ask Dimmock angrily. "A young girl was gunned down tonight, that's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding them."

"Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for an international smuggling ring," Sherlock cuts in, changing topics. I stand back and pace for a while trying to think. "A gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London, right under your nose."

"Can you prove that?" Dimmock asks in response. I look at Sherlock as he fails to answer.

"We would tell you, but you wouldn't understand it," I tell him, starting for the door. "Holmes, let's go." We walk out without another word.

"I need proof," Sherlock says, pulling his coat closer to himself.

"We need proof," I correct. I think for a moment before an idea pops into my head. "The tattoo. Soo Lin had a tattoo on her foot of the Black Lotus, Lukis and Van Coon must have the same."

"Brilliant," he mumbles, heading to call a cab. He gets in as soon as one appears, leaving me behind.

"Sherlock!" I shout as the cab drives away. "You little-"


I step into the flat quietly, no sign of Sherlock anywhere. Must still be at the hospital. I plop onto the couch and lay down, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my stomach. It's right there. Go ahead, have a peek. It can't harm you anymore. I give in to temptation, and stand to go to the kitchen. I slowly walk closer, mind racing. The box sits on the counter, starkly different than the rest of the items dressing the room. I open the latches, and take a deep breath. I open it, the riding crop laying still on the soft padding. My hand begins to shake as I flash back to my childhood.

"Papa, I don't want to get hit today."

"I am your father and you will respect me! Get over here NOW!"

"But it hurts, papa!"

"Jane?" I hear distantly. A hand on my shoulder brings me back to earth. "Jane, are you okay?"

"No," I answer truthfully, turning and squeezing Sherlock into a tight hug, tears running down my cheeks. He rubs my back slowly, probably unsure of what to do in this situation. I pull my face away from his chest, laying my forehead on it instead. "I had a terrible childhood."

"You go sit down, I'll make you some tea," he responds, gently pushing me away from him and towards the living room. I walk to my chair, plopping onto it and wiping my tears on the sleeve of my jumper. After a few minutes to calm down, Sherlock walks in and hands me a mug, sitting across from me to listen. "What happened?"

"I just wanted to look, since I know it can't hurt me. Too many memories came crashing back." He nods in understanding. "Can we talk about the case now? I need a distraction."

"It's not just a criminal organization, it's a cult," he starts, not skipping a beat. "The brother was corrupted by one of the leaders."

"Soo Lin said the name- General Shan. But we're still not close to finding them."

"Wrong, Jane. We've got almost all we need now, Soo Lin gave us most of the missing pieces. Why would he visit his sister? Why does he need her expertise?"

"She works in a museum, an expert on antiquities. Oh!" I exclaim. "There must be relics smuggled in from China that were sold on the Black Market."

"There are thousands of treasures after Mao's revolution, the Black Lotus could be selling them," Sherlock adds.

"Maybe the victims had sticky fingers, and took what they weren't supposed to," I offer as he opens his laptop. He types for a few moments before pausing to read.

"The dates of the auctions coincide with either Lukis or Van Coon travelling to China," he states.

"Someone must have gotten greedy, someone could have stolen something," I offer again, as Sherlock puts his hands in a temple to think.

"Knock knock," I hear Mrs. Hudson say from the door. "Sorry to bother, are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?"

"What?" I ask, looking at her.

"There's a young man outside with crates of books," she answers as Sherlock starts clearing spaces on the table.

"Tell him to come in," Sherlock tells her.

"Sherlock?" I ask him seriously, but he doesn't even look my way. "Sherlock Holmes, I swear to God-"

"The numbers are a connection. A code, in the books," he interrupts as a few crates are brought in and set down. "First number is page, second is word on that page. Turn to page 15 and it's the first word you read. Really, it depends-"

"On the book," I finish. "Yes, Sherlock, I know how the book cipher works. But why are we looking for it? It could be anything."

"Not anything, has to be something they both own," he corrects. He opens a bin and starts his search.

"Well then, see you in the morning," I tell him, heading up to my room.

"You're not gonna help?" He asks, looking at me.

"You have your system, I have mine. It's better if you just handle it, consulting detective," I add to spite him, and he continues his work in silence. I walk up the stairs and into my room, quietly closing the door. I plop on my bed and get some well deserved sleep.