Disclaimer: BBC's Sherlock belongs to various persons and corporations that are not in any way associated with me. This piece of fanfiction is written by 5 students who just wish to pass an assignment they were given. I claim no ownership of the show or Sherlock. No profit is made from this material, now or in the future.

Chapter 3

"Mr. Watson, anything else I can assist you with?" said Erik, the receptionist.
"I would like to order a cab please."
"Sure thing, where would you like to go?"
"I want to go to a restaurant in the city center." I lied to hide where I was going.
"There are many restaurants only five minutes from the hotel, just on the other side of the canal."
"I just want a cab, please," I said and Erik said no more.

I walked out of the reception of Clarion Hotel to wait for the cab which I had ordered in the reception. The weather had turned to a light drizzle and with the fog that covered Malmö it was difficult to see the houses on the other side of the canal. I looked impatiently at my watch and tightened my scarf. In Malmö a cab is not waiting for you, it is the other way around. This waiting did not help my resolve in pursuing the one who had stolen the ring, especially not in a city I had barely spent a day in.

While reading the message again, a black Mercedes with a yellow toplight where it said Taxi, turned the corner, and stopped in front of me. A man, the cab driver, got out of the car and opened the door for me. Sitting at the right backseat of the cab I could see that the man was middle age with perfectly combed hair. He was orderly dressed, and a tattoo was showing on his right wrist.

"My name is Aasif, I am at your service, where do you want to go?" said he.
"Hamnparken, please," Aasif nodded, changed gear, and I was on my way. Aasif had an accent much like the one I encountered with the locals in Afghanistan and it made me recall memories from the war. The memories would sometimes bring me nightmares and uneasiness, but at moments like this when danger came about, they would soothe my senses.

The driver took me past the new buildings of the area my Hotel was located in, and drove behind the central station. I got a glimpse of a street sign which said "Jörgen Kocksgatan". For every block we passed the buildings on my right seemed worn and looked more similar to London's industrial period while my left was a field of asphalt. We took two left turns and continued on a completely straight road through the misty night with the car's wipers going slowly back and forth.

"We are almost there," the driver said. "I will drop you off at the last intersection before your destination; it is a hassle to turn around at the small street area close to Hamnparken."

"Is it far to Hamnparken from the intersection?"

"No, just keep following the road after I drop you off and you are in the park when you see a white block house with grass and bushes around it."

After just a few minutes the driver stopped the car and gave me the price. As I reached for my wallet in the right inner pocket of my coat and I made an irritated noise, I had forgotten my wallet in the hotelroom. I looked through my pockets, and I was lucky to find enough change to pay my fare which I had received when I paid for my dinner earlier that night. The cab drove off and the night closed in on me as the spotlights of the car disappeared. It was not difficult to know where to go, just further along the road a white block house could be seen through the grey mist. I looked at my watch, 10:52 pm.

I walked into the park with uncertainty and self-doubt. Now when I was here I was not sure it was such a good idea to go alone. I tried to fend of the negative thoughts and focus on what I was here for, the ring.

I waited close to the entrance of the park and time passed very slowly. My coat had gotten wet and I began to feel cold. I looked at my watch, 11:04. I felt my hope slowly decaying away from me; I felt stupid, foolish and naive. I understood I may never see the ring again, but I decided to explore the park, perhaps I was standing in the wrong location.

The park consisted of two small stone paths which started at the entrance and connected at the end, one going right, the other left. I decided to walk down the left path. Hamnparken was a small park, no bigger than an average sized square, but the weather made it impossible to see the edges of it. After walking the path twice I gave up. Time was long past 11pm, and I started walking back to where the cab had dropped me of when I felt a buzzing from my phone. I had received another message from the anonymous number.

"Where are you going? Third time's the charm, Watson."

I turned around and ran back to the path, this time being extra mindful of my surroundings. That is when I saw it, something glimmering below one of the lampposts. I walked in a fast pace towards the glimmering reflection with relief and hope like children on Christmas Day.

When I was closer I could see the box which I had chosen earlier that day. Inside it was still the ring for my future wife, Mary. I bent down and picked it up, I took out the ring and inspected it to make sure it was not damaged.
As I inspected the ring I heard footsteps behind me and before I could turn around something hit me in the back of my head. I fell down to the ground, and felt light headed after the blow. I felt my consciousness fade. Before it did, I could see a dark figure pick-up the ring which had left the palm of my hand, and the last thing I remembered was the sound of the thief's footsteps fading into the darkness of the night.