Sherlock's coat flew behind him like a cape as he made his way through the station, keeping up a professional stride. John struggled to keep up with him, perhaps because his legs felt so heavy with the stress of the situation they were in. Mrs Hudson had offered to come along, however Sherlock had made it clear to her that she would only hold them back, leaving John to give an apologetic look as he noticed the look of disappointment on her face.

The train journey was just over three hours long. That meant three hours of Sherlock deducing the lives of passengers as they occupied themselves with magazines or mobile phones.
"That man..." Sherlock whispered to himself, his eyes narrowing on the back of some old man's greying head and then flicking to the window beside him. There was something odd about him, but Sherlock found difficulty discovering what it was. The train flew through a tunnel and the light on the inside contrasting with the darkness on the outside projected the man's reflection on the window. It was only for a few seconds but Sherlock could have sworn that reflection portrayed the image of a young man in his thirties rather than an old one in his sixties.

John followed Sherlock's eyes. "What man?"
Sherlock snapped out of his thinking place and thought of a different subject.
"That one there." He pointed towards a young man in a suit travelling with two women and three children. "See, the woman he's sitting next to is his wife, and those are his kids, but the woman across from him is his wife's sister and he's been sleeping with her for three months."
John's voice hit a disapproving tone. "Do you think you could focus on your own family for once instead of everybody else's?"
"No."
John didn't even expect another answer, he knew this is what kept him calm - kept him entertained - so he just left it at that.

Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket and opened an application labeled ' '.
"When did you download that?"
"I needed places to stay when I-" Sherlock thought for a moment, unsure what word to use "when I had disappeared."
"Oh."
His long, thin fingers glided across the screen of the phone as he flicked through dozens of hotels.
"What about that one?" John said, pointing to a green and white hotel at the top of the screen.
"That's miles away from the Tower, John."
"The photograph wasn't taken too close to it."
Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and lifted the photograph out.
"See" John's finger traced the photograph "there are loads of buildings blocking the view, you can only see the Tower a little."
Sherlock focused back to the phone in his hand and tapped the hotel.
"'St Chads Hotel. Choose your room view, whether it be the beautiful beach or the fantastic landmark Blackpool Tower' Well done, John, I guess you were right. Look at this bedroom."
Sherlock handed the phone to John who held it against the photograph.
"The walls are a different colour."
"Walls can be painted, their photo is old, really look at it, it's the same window."
John had no idea how he could have noticed that - all windows look the same to him - but he knew better than to question Sherlock.

Sherlock sat smiling at the phone, thankful for having John to help him with his cases.
"Hey, Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think that when this is over, when we get Hamish back, we could stay here for a bit."
"Here?"
"Yeah, just a few days, a little family holiday."
"What can we do here that we can't do back home?"
"Well it's just- you know what, never mind."
Sherlock looked towards the man he had been wondering about. He could barely see his reflection in the light, but he could make out that he was fiddling around with a blackberry phone. Strange. What sixty year old man carries around a modern phone like that?

John pulled Sherlock away from his thoughts once more.
"Come on, we're here."
Sherlock stood up and made his way to the exit of the train, he watched as the old man staggered to the other exit.

The doors slid open and they were greeted by a large sign printed on the wall. "BLACKPOOL NORTH STATION".
"Hurry!" Sherlock rushed his way through hundreds of busy people getting on and off of the train. John followed behind him, apologising to everyone he bumped into.

...

In just forty minutes they were outside of St Chads hotel. Sherlock made no time to stop and marvel at the beauty surrounding him, he just went straight to business. John, eager to find his baby boy, done the same.
"Excuse me?"
The receptionist looked up with a smile too wide to be genuine. "Can I help you?"
John placed the photograph on the desk. "Did someone check in with this boy?"
Sherlock sighed and made his way up the stairs to find Hamish himself.
"Ooooh" the receptionist inhaled through clenched teeth "I'm sorry, I can't tell you that, company policy."
"Look. Please. He's our son, he's been kidnapped. Please."
The woman bit on her green painted pinky nail as she looked down at the photograph. "Can I speak to your wife?"
John was a little offended at her question, yet he didn't know why.
"You can speak to my boyfriend."
The receptionist passed the photograph back to John with a disgusted look on her face and spat out her words. "Your kind shouldn't be raising children."

John could feel anger burning up inside of him. He hadn't had to deal with a homophobe in a few years, and he was never as good as reacting as Sherlock was.
"Listen lady-"
"John! I've found the room!" Sherlock appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
John snatched the picture from the desk and followed his partner up the staircase, completely forgetting his anger at the woman. Sherlock lead him to a room on the third floor marked with a 'do not disturb' sign.
"I haven't been inside yet, however, it's the only corner room on this floor, and this floor is the height at which the picture was taken."
"Why haven't you been inside yet?"
Sherlock looked down in embarrassment.
"What?"
"It's a card lock, how am I supposed to pick one of those?"
"Well, I was always the stronger one."
John kicked at the door, making it fall on the sixth attempt. The woman from the desk then appeared behind them.
"What on earth do you think you're doing?! I'm calling the police!"

John ignored her and stepped over the broken down door into an empty room. A cradle lay in the corner just under the window. Sherlock stepped over to the cradle and lifted out it's only content - another note.
"What does it say?"
"Round Two."