Outside the cell window, the setting sun sent streams of golden red light through the bars, alighting on the face of Brett North, making him even more of an angel than before. They passed over the fresh bruises on his face, caused when he 'created a fight' between the piggish brute of guard that was currently on patrol, and onto his hands, in which he held a lump of clay he had dug from the walls in a concealed spot. Absent-mindedly, he worked the clay in his hands as his eyes wondered the walls, roving over the comments that had been scratched into the brickwork, over the iron bars that made his fourth wall, and the heavy duty padlock that was prominent on the cast-iron door. He listened to the music that drifted from the wireless further along the corridor, and looked vaguely around the cell, when he heard a voice at the edge of his hearing:

"Brett..."

He looked up sharply, the clay dropping to the floor, as he searched for the sound. The voice repeated itself, coming from all corner of the cell and corridor outside, sounding deep, warm, safe. Brett spoke:

"Who is it? Who's talking?"

"I am..."

Standing up, Brett moved to the front of the cell, hands instinctively gripping the bars, as he searched for the owner of the voice. On the floor, the clay he had been working looked like the face of a lion...

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The sun streamed late rays onto the entrance of the warehouse as Edmund and DI Clarke pulled up, and the rays picked up the boarded windows, peeling paint on the door frame, and rusty padlock.

"Don't think the owner's home, and the door's locked Ed. Don't know about you, butI didn't bring a crowbar."

"We won't need one." Edmund moved towards the door, hearing the voice again:

"Edmund..."

"Can you hear that Ben? A voice somewhere..." Edmund moved vaguely towards the door, until his elbow was grabbed by DI Clarke, who looked at him sharply.

"What voice Ed? And don't wander, it's un-nerving."

Edmund shook his head like a dog.

"I don't know... we need to get in. Something's in there. Don't ask, I just have a hunch."

DI Clarke groaned.

"You and your blooming hunches. One of these days I'm going to tell you where to send those hunches." Heading towards the door, he gave it an experimental push, and then charged it with his shoulder, breaking down the door.

"Always knew there was a use for detectives" Edmund laughed, then the two headed in, letting the setting sun stream behind them, picking up the dust swirling in the air, and the wholly, utterly, completely emptiness of the place.

"I repeat my earlier statement Ed. I hurt my shoulder for an empty warehouse, I'm starving because I haven't eaten for oooh... twenty minutes, and do you have any idea why we came?"

Edmund rubbed his eyes furiously.

"There must be some reason why North had a woman come to his house, something to do with this warehouse..."

"Maybe it was just because a woman wanted to see him? You've seen how the WPC's react when he smiles and flutters his eyelashes."

"No, it's something to do with here, I'm sure of it. Is there anything in the corners Ben? Anything?"

The two of them searched the warehouse, until DI Clarke yelled:

"Ed! Over here!" Edmund came over, to see DI Clarke standing by a large object, covered in a thick cloth.

"Ta Daa! The almighty Clarkini displays his wondrous detectivital talents to reveal..." he pulled the cloth off with a flourish, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

"A wardrobe? I hurt my shoulder for a wardrobe?" Edmund didn't hear Ben's remarks; he was staring at the wardrobe in shock. His eyes gazed over the thick, unpolished wood, engraved with hundreds upon hundreds of mystical creatures, gambolling along the panelling, along the rims were bronze rivets, and he stood there, until he was able to muster up enough strength to utter the words;

I know you..."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Four updates in one week! I must have REALLY not wanted to complete my coursework!