The next several days were intense as I tried to balance my time between work, my menu and new found friends. After spending hours on end the night before revising the rough draft that I had previously turned in; I was finally able to hand in my finished menu. Chef Blanche stared at it in silence for several minutes. I was beginning to think that I had miss typed something when he spoke, "Are you sure this your own work?" I nodded carefully, "Yes, I'm sure. It's all my own." He handed it back as he stood, "Well, I look forward to tasting it. It's seems extremely ambitious and if successful, you will advance very far here." I smiled excitedly, "That would be wonderful." He led me around to the financial office and had them create an official schedule for me. As he handed me my first check, Chef smiled, "I'll see you Saturday for the tasting." I nodded as we exited the building. Immediately I went to the bank to exchange my check for cash.

Arriving at my street, there were several police cars around the area. As I made my way up to find out what had happened; I heard several voices coming from the flat upstairs, one of which was new. Curiosity getting the better of me I slowed down, "Don't make me order you, Sherlock." That same person began to approach the door so I went to knock to make it seem like I hadn't been eavesdropping. The man who answered smiled quickly and turned back towards John, "Please talk some since into him." With that he left, bending his head towards me as he passed by. I walked in closing the door as Sherlock started playing his violin, "Why are there so many cops outside?" I turned back around to notice all the glass and debris lying around, "What the hell happened here?" I walked around with my hands up questioningly. John looked at me like I should have known, "What?" He sighed, "Didn't you hear? I thought you got off work at 1 this morning." I shrugged my shoulders, "I worked overnight prep and had a meeting with Chef Blanche. What should I have heard about?" Sherlock flicked his bow towards the street, "A gas leak caused an explosion." I raised my eyebrows, "Oh my god! Is everyone okay? Do they know who did it? What about Mrs. Hudson?" As I began to panic, John walked up to me and sat me down on the couch, "Everyone we know is okay. I'll make us some tea."

I noticed he still had his jacket on, "Seems like you were out last night. Where did you go?" He smiled at me as he walked past, "Sarah's, she let me stay the night." That's good. I'm glad that's still going on, I thought. Giving him a slight smile I turned to Sherlock, "Who was that man?" Sherlock huffed, "My brother." Once again I raised my eyebrows, "You have a brother? I just assumed you were an only child." He shook his head, "Nope, I am the second born." John shouted from the kitchen, "How come you lied to your brother. You have no case at all; that's why the wall took another pounding last night." He responded while scratching his neck with the bow, "Why shouldn't I?" As John came back into the living room, "Oh I see, sibling rivalry. Now we are getting somewhere." Sherlock's phone began ringing which he answered.

John handed me a cup of tea, "Here Klayre." I nodded thanks as I began to sip at it, the hot liquid slightly burning my tongue. John sat down next me, "How did your menu go?" I smiled at his interest, "Chef said it seemed very ambitious. If it's as successful in the tasting, I'll advance here quicker than I thought." Sherlock glanced at his shoulder over at us, "The tasting will take place when?" Taking another sip before answering, "It's this Saturday. I can't wait!" He looked back out the window as he got off the phone, "Good then you can come as well. That was Lestrade, I've been summoned." John and I looked at each other. "Are you sure you want us to come," He asked. Sherlock responded waiting at the opened door, "Of course where would I be without my blogger and future chef." We both got up and followed suit.

The taxi ride over was quiet, John and Sherlock hardly glanced at one another. I found myself looking straight ahead the entire time not wanting to interrupt their silence by engaging in conversation with one over the other. We quickly exited the Taxi and were met by Lestrade, "You like the weird ones, don't you? The surprising ones." Sherlock responded, "Obviously." I could feel people staring as we walked through the station, it made me feel conscious of what I looked like. I was still wearing my black chef pants and black t-shirt, I blushed slightly at having forgot to change before we left. Lestrade led us around a corner, "You'll love this then." We came into his office, "That explosion." Sherlock answered back, "A gas leak, yes?" Lestrade said, "No." Sherlock quipped back, "No?" Lestrade went to stand behind his desk, his partner sitting in a chair to the left, "No. Made to look like one." John spoke up next, "What?" Lestrade continued, "Hardly anything left of the place except a strongbox. A very strong box, and inside was this."

I glanced around them to see that he was gesturing to a letter, when Sherlock asked, "You haven't opened it?" Lestrade shook his head, "It's addressed to you isn't it. We've x-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped." Sherlock responded sarcastically, "How reassuring," before examining it himself. After a few seconds, he started talking, "Nice stationary. Bohemian." I could barely here what he was saying, "What?" He continued on, "From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?" Lestrade responded, "No." Sherlock returned to examining it, "She used a fountain pen. Parker Duofold, iridium nib." John interrupted, "She?" Sherlock replied, "Obviously." John looked away slightly annoyed, "Obviously."

I watched on fascinated about how he got all that from just looking at the envelope. He then proceeded to open it; carefully pulling out a pink cell phone. John spoke quickly in surprise, "But that…that's the phone. The pink phone." I spoke up, confused, "What, from The Study in Pink?" Sherlock began to look over it curiously, "Well, obviously, it's not the same phone, but it's supposed to look like…A Study in Pink? You read his blog?" He questioned, suddenly surprised, turning to look back at me. Lestrade answered for me, "Of course she does. We all do." To prove his point, he asked, "Do you really not know that the Earth goes round the sun?" His partner snickered at that to which I threw her a nasty look. John suddenly looked a bit guilty for writing that bit. I gave him a sympathetic smile as Sherlock went on from before he'd stopped, "It isn't the same phone." Sighing he brought it up to the light, "This one's brand-new. Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone." He looked over at John, who looked away, "Which means, your blog has a far wider readership."

He started to mess around on the phone and played a voice mail that was on it. The sound that played was five Greenwich time signal pips. John spoke, "What, was that it?" Sherlock looked up over at me as the mobile beeped again, "No, that's not it." We all approached the phone to look at what he had found. There on the screen was a photo of a fireplace that needed repairing. Lestrade went on about what it all was supposed to mean, "An estate agents photo and the bloody Greenwich pips? What the hell are we supposed to do with that." Something about the photo was bothering me as Sherlock explained that it was a code, "Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's going to happen again." John questioned, "What is?" Sherlock mimicked the sound of an explosion. I spoke up, "Sherlock, that photo. I think I've seen that fireplace before."

He nodded as he led the way, "I have too." Immediately he led the way out to a taxi and we all went back to our flats. Once inside he led the way to my door, "Klayre, if you please." I unlocked the door asking, "What are we doing here?" He hesitated as we entered, "…Just looking at something." All four of us walked into the living room, I gasped as I put two and two together. The fireplace in the photo was the one in my apartment and there in the middle of my living room was a pair of shoes. John spoke as Sherlock approached them, "He's a bomber remember." My heart was filled with fear at the thought of someone breaking into my home and leaving them here.

As he got up close to them, the cell phone in his pocket began to go off. He looked at it before answering softly, "Hello?" The answer that came was a ragged woman breathing, "H…Hello…sexy." She then proceeded to sob as he asked who she was. She didn't answer his question but instead replied, "I…sent you a l…little puzzle, just to say hi." Sherlock then asked her why she was crying and what her name was. "I…I'm not crying. I'm typing, and this stupid bitch is reading it out." Sherlock whispered something to himself. I asked, "What?" He said nothing but John had heard him as well, "No, what did you mean?" His response scared the hell out of me, "I've been expecting this for some time." The woman then interjected, "Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock…or I'm going to be so…naughty." She then continued to sob as the phone disconnected.

Sherlock grabbed the shoes, "I only have twelve hours. Best get to the lab at St. Bartholomew's." I was silent do to the shock that some had been in my house, John noticed as Sherlock walked passed me, "Come with us Klayre, it's probably better for you to be away for a while." I nodded slowly as he guided me out of the house. On the way to the lab, we didn't speak at all. Sherlock looked at me but didn't say anything. Once we arrived, Molly; a lovely girl, let us into the lab. I sat in a chair off to the side and John was walked around nervously. I spoke up, "So who do you suppose it was?" A cell phone beeped as he continued looking in the microscope, "Hmm?" I restated the question, "The woman on the phone, the crying woman." He replied, "Oh, she doesn't matter, she's just a hostage. No lead there." John answered, obviously as upset about his answer as I was, "For god's sake, she wasn't thinking about leads." He looked over at us, "You're not going to be much use to her." His machine started to beep as John continued, "Are they trying to trace it, trace the call?"

Sherlock's phone continued to go off several more times, "One was too smart for that. Pass me my phone." We both looked around for it as I asked, "Where is it?" All he said was, "Jacket." John stiffened, obviously annoyed that Sherlock couldn't get it himself. I just rolled my eyes and let him walk around to get it, "It's a text from your brother." Sherlock didn't even think about answering it, "Delete it." I spoke out loud, "Delete it?" His reason came flowing out without hesitation, "Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." John gave him a snarky reply, "Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you, uh, eight times. Must be important." Sherlock sighed into the lens, "Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment." I raised an eyebrow, "What?" Sherlock spoke as if it was clear, "Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look Andrew West tole the plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of Story. The only mystery is this, "He took a breath, "Why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" I sighed walking over to them, "Try and remember there's woman who might die."

He looked up at me, "What for? There's hospitals full of people dying, Klayre. Why don't you go cry by their bedside? See what good it does then." I slapped him across his cheek, "Those people, Sherlock Holmes, aren't being held hostage by a psychopath. They are dying of natural causes; not a murder that you can prevent if you tried hard enough or even cared about it more." John stood there stunned as I stormed out into the hallway and sat on a chair lining the wall. Sherlock went back to his microscope. A few seconds later the computer beeped and I could Sherlock talking, "Ah!" Molly walked passed, giving me a small wave as she entered the lab, "Any luck?" I heard Sherlock answer, "Oh, yes!" A man quickly walked passed giving me a smile, also entering the lab. He hesitated with the door slightly open, "Oh sorry-," Before he could finish, I heard Molly interrupt, "Jim, hi! Come in! Come in!" I decided I also should head back in to see what Sherlock had found.

I walked in as Jim continued into the room. She introduced him to Sherlock; followed by John and myself. He smiled and clapped his hand together. He spoke with an Irish accent, "Hi. So, you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" He walked around to look at what Sherlock was doing as Molly spoke, "Jim works in IT, upstairs. That's how we met, office romance." They both giggled. Sherlock glanced back at him and back to his work, "Gay." Molly stopped laughing, "Sorry, what?" Sherlock lied, "Nothing, uhm, hey." Jim replied, "Hi." He accidently knocked off a tin that was beside him and chuckled nervously, "Sorry. Sorry!" He scrambled to pick up. I bent down to help him and noticed him slip a piece of paper under it as he sat it back on the table. "Well, I better be off," He said walking past Molly, "I'll see you at the Fox. About six-ish?" She nodded, "Yeah." He said bye and that it was nice to meet Sherlock. Sherlock didn't respond so it was oddly quiet for a second before John and I answered at the same time, "you too." Jim gave us each a quick glance before looking back at Sherlock. He put a hand on Molly's back and then left. As soon as the door shut Molly asked, "What do you mean, gay? We're together." Sherlock rudely responded, "And domestic bliss must suit you Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."

She replied defensively, "Two and a half." He retorted, "No, three." John interrupted them, "Sherlock." Molly argued with a slightly raised voice, "He's not gay! Why do you have to spoil…He's not!" He scoffed as he pointed out the reasons he believed made Jim gay. John got offended, "Just because he puts product in his hair? I put product in my hair." Sherlock answered, "No, you wash your hair. There's a difference. Tinted eyelashes. Clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines, those tired, clubbers eyes. Then there's his underwear." Molly questioned him, "His underwear?" He continued, "Visible above the waistline. Very visible, very particular brand. That, plus the suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here," He pulled out the slip of paper I had noticed, "and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." She stormed off; I don't blame her. I rolled my eyes, "Charming." John also spoke, "Well done." He spun around to look at us, "Just sparing her the time. Wasn't that kinder?" John walked up close to him shaking his head, "Kinder? No, no, Sherlock, that wasn't kind."

Sherlock breathed in before changing the subject, and pushing a show toward John, "Go on then." We looked at him quizzically to which he said, "You know what I do. Off you go." John chuckles a refusal but is encouraged to give it a try by Sherlock. Then John blurted out, "I'm not going to stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and…" As he continued Sherlock spoke over him, "An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me." I sighed, "yeah, right." Sherlock looked over at me, "Really, it is." He clears his throat, "Fine. There just a pair of trainers. Um, they're in good nick, new except the sole has been well worn. So, the owner must have had them for a while. Very 80's, probably a retro design." Sherlock tells him he's doing well and he continues, "They're quite big. A man's. But there's traces of name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes so we are looking for a child." Sherlock sits back in his chair, "What else?" John shrugs, "That's it. How did I do?" Sherlock told him he did well, "You spotted everything of none importance."