They met the kidnappers about 15 minutes later in the back seat of Lestrade's car. They were communicating through an intricate series of videos uploaded to youtube from an undisclosed location. The detective and the doctor were quickly shown the first few videos, all of a man in a black ski mask but occasionally featuring a pair of twin girls. Nothing could be clearly distinguished from any of the videos except the girls. They were displayed like jewelry in a window. Always well-lit and posed.
"They've been coming in every half hour. There have been 4 so far. An anonymous caller directed us to them. The girls are Meiko and Hoshi Miyamoto, the children of a wealthy japanese novelist stolen from their home. He's made all the standard demands, cash and two plane tickets to cuba or the kids die. We can't get any specifics off of the video. He's using a voice changer. The background never changes. Long story short, we could really use your help." Lestrade instantly reverted to his Detective Inspector voice, stating the facts without letting the emotion of the situation suffocate him.
"The parents." Sherlock played the latest video over again. Watching intently as a voice off screen spoke of how well-mannered the obviously terrified children were. "How much trouble will they be?"
"We've been unable to contact the father. The mother's been dead for four years."
"Perfect." Sherlock replayed the segment for the third time. The light of the screen cast a cold light across his face, shifting his eye color from pale to lifeless. John shivered as the gravelly artificial voice echoed through the hollow space as he knew it'd echo through his skull for months afterward. "Check the father's background. Try to track him down. It's not uncommon for the children of the wealthy to be left to the care of a nanny. But in cases such as these, inside jobs are always most likely. Investigate the staff too. Just tutors and nannies, the rest would be a waste of time."
"Done and done. All of the staff check out. They all say the same things, the father is away a lot but he loves the girls dearly. No less than two video chats a day, plus phone calls and letters and postcards. The nanny claimed she thinks of them as her baby sisters. The tutors were frantic. None of them knew where the father could be or who could've done it."
Sherlock hummed, hitting the replay button on the video.
"Did you find something?" John asked stiffly, getting irritated with hearing the same line over and over again.
"Can you hear that in the background?" Sherlock cupped his hand around the speaker to amplify it and replayed the segment. "It's constant throughout all the videos, but it's most detectable in the pause between sentences right... here."
John caught it, just a subtle hum in the space between words. The sound was like a hummingbird's song, once he caught on to it he couldn't believe that he'd ever missed it. Sherlock tapped back to the first video and he heard it there too. Softer, lower, but unmistakable. "What is that?"
"I can't hear a thing." Lestrade grumbled from the driver's seat as they pulled into the scotland yard parking garage. "Maybe it's the a/c running or something."
"I've got a bad feeling about it." Sherlock mumbled, swinging out of the car before it came to a full stop. "The first thing we'll do is run it through your audio processing program."
They spent no less than five minutes uploading the audio from all four videos into the program, isolating the background noise from the kidnapper's voice and amplifying it. Then it became clear that it wasn't only one sound, it was two. One a fraction higher in pitch than the other. They fluctuated subtly, the pitch and volume shifting seemingly without cause or pattern.
It seemed to disturb everyone in the room, but it petrified Sherlock.
"That sounds like... but- it can't be," mumbled Lestrade, looking more confused than anything.
"It is," replied Sherlock suddenly gasping and frantic. "This case just got 30% more complicated." Usually, Sherlock would be delighted at that fact. Positively, disgustingly glowing. But this time it seemed to terrify him.
"What? What am I missing?" John asked,
"That's what vampire children sound like when scared out of their wits." Sherlock informed him, pulling out his phone and tapping out a text message at the speed of light. "Lestrade. Photo of the father."
"They're vampires. What does that mean? Where they… targeted or something?" John asked as Lestrade handed over a file.
Sherlock huffed out a humourless laugh as he leaned over the file, snapping a picture of the photo attached to a sheet of background information. "The kidnapper hasn't a clue. If he did, he'd have sold them off and we'd never hear a word about it. Vampire children are extremely rare and therefore unspeakably valuable." Sherlock began pacing across the floor, thinking frantically. "There must be something you've missed. Something that will lead us to them. But that could be anything."
"Sherlock." John stepped in his path, forcing him to stop and look up. "If he didn't know they were vampires, then why would he steal them?"
"Why does anyone kidnap children? Desperation." Sherlock said instantly, almost instinctually.
If anything, that answer baffled John further. "But… what would make someone desperate enough to break into a secured mansion full of staff and kidnap a couple of kids?"
That question seemed to knock Sherlock off balance. "A vampire's home would have more security precautions than the average household, especially with children… The staff wouldn't be your average disgruntled workers. They'd be blood servants, all with an intimate knowledge of vampiric tradition. They'd have to be on the inside, but not close enough to be let in on the secrets of vampirism."
"Relatives of the staff?" Suggested John with a shrug?
Lestrade shook his head. "Either an individual disconnects from their family to enter into service or they're raised in a family of blood servants."
John made a conscious effort not to read too far into that.
"OH!" Sherlock shouted, in a moment of ecstatic realization. "Two plane tickets!"
"What?" Lestrade asked, though they thought it in unison.
"The kidnapper asked for two plane tickets to cuba. Who would he choose to whisk off to cuba to start a new life with? Not a relative. Certainly not just any friend."
John knew the answer was obvious, but he stated it anyways. Just to make it real. "A girlfriend."
