"I hope it's worth it," John said, getting up as he heard Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs. "Because it took me quite a bit of effort to get Lestrade to give up the file to me." He met Sherlock at the door and as soon as Sherlock had taken off the Jacket and shoved it at John, John tried to hand him the file.

"I don't need it," Sherlock said, ignoring the file and letting himself fall into a chair.

"You don't need it," John said aggravated, throwing his jacket over the back of a chair and then turning back to Sherlock. "And why not?"

"Already solved it," Sherlock said, looking around his chair for his violin.

"You solved it," John repeated, "without even looking at the case?"

"I looked at the foot, that was enough," Sherlock said, barely even glancing at John.

John let out a sigh and sat down in the chair opposite Sherlock's. "The foot," he said slowly. "All right, let's hear it then," he said.

Sherlock cocked his head.

"I at least want to know the answer," John said sincerely. "Who killed them?"

"Them?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, the mother and the fiancé."

Sherlock smirked, "You assume they're both dead?"

"Well… yes," John said hesitantly.

"Once again you manage to miss the most important and obvious facts of the case," Sherlock said.

John gritted his teeth. "Fine, then lets hear your explanation."

Sherlock pressed his fingertips together and took a deep breath. "Simple, it was the fiancé, he killed the mother for her money, most likely first seduced her, after seducing the daughter and finding it easier to get to the money through…"

"The mother didn't have any money," John interjected.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "I know that she…"

"The daughter had all the money," John continued.

Sherlock shifted in his seat. "The fiancé left the daughter, who had money, for the mother who didn't have any money?"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"No it doesn't," Sherlock said, now leaning forward in his chair. "Where did the mother get her money from? I know she had it."

"From the daughter," John answered.

"From the daughter?" Sherlock seemed genuinely surprised.

"Yes, the daughter has a trust fund, set up for her by her uncle. Her mother and father were managing the money for her."

Sherlock nodded and John knew he was processing this information and probably already coming to new conclusions. Suddenly Sherlock jumped up and tossed his phone at John. "Text Lestrade and tell him I'll take the case after all," he said.

Sherlock took his own coat from the back of the door. The coat swung through the air as Sherlock put it on. "Done?" he asked.

"And… send. Yes," John said.

"Coming?" Sherlock asked over his shoulder.

"Coming?" John repeated sheepishly.

"Yes, visiting the daughter."

"Oh, right… Yes, of course," John got up and put on the black jacket he'd just swung over the back of the chair.

"I thought you might have to go to the clinic," Sherlock mocked.

"Yes, some of us have to work for their money," John mumbled, while following Sherlock down the stairs.

It took the cab at least three full minutes to get all the way up to the house, from the gates. John was staring at it in awe. It was white, gigantic and obviously incredibly expensive.

Sherlock was typing something on his phone and only briefly glanced out of the window to register everything he had to about the house.

Mary Sutherland, daughter of Rosa Windibank-Darvill, opened the door herself. She couldn't be much older than twenty years old. She was slightly overweight, short and wearing a shirt with a very distracting pattern and pink fur at the sleeves and neck. Despite everything that had happened to her in the past weeks, she greeted Sherlock and John with a warm smile.

They sat down and Mary got John a cup of tea - Sherlock didn't want anything. And as John concentrated his energy on his cup of tea, Sherlock looked around the room.

Eventually Mary sat down in front of them. Sherlock looked at her in that way that told John he was already drawing conclusions. "Inspector Lestrade had told me I could expect you, inspector Holmes," she said, then hesitated before adding, "and Dr. Watson." Clearly it was a strange concept to her, that the police would send her an odd couple like these two to help solve the case.

"It's just Sherlock," Sherlock said, smiling briefly. "And John," he added. John nodded, still holding on to his tea.

"I don't know how much I can still tell you, I mean I'm presuming you've already heard all the facts," Mary said uncertain.

"I find the most important facts are often left out of police files," Sherlock said, glancing at John. "Just explain the situation. Why were you the one to file the missing person's report?"

Mary blinked with her eyes. "For my mother? Hmm, I wasn't happy with how calm my father was treating the situation."

"Stepfather, I assume?" Sherlock asked.

Mary frowned a little. "Yes…"

"His last name is different to yours," Sherlock briefly explained while gesturing to the unopened mail lying on the small side table next to his side of the coach.

"Oh right. My mother wanted me to try and call him father. It feels a bit strange to me because he's only five years older than I am."

"And your mother, how old is she?" John asked amazed.

"She's 49," Mary said, clearly not entirely comfortable with the situation herself.

"And what does she do?" Sherlock asked Mary.

"Er… nothing really. She used to own a paper company with my father, but after he passed away and she married James, my stepfather, she sold it."

"Did she want to sell it?" Sherlock asked.

"No, James convinced her it would be for the best. They didn't get a lot for it, after my father died the business kind of started to go downhill."

"Then where did she pay this house with?" Sherlock asked. John wondered what he was after, after all they already knew the mother was living off the daughter's money.

"I pay for the house," Mary said. "My uncle left me his entire estate when he passed away, most of it in a trust fund."

"That you let your mother and stepfather manage?" Sherlock asked.

Mary shrugged. "While I'm living here, yes."

"But it's your money," John said.

"Yes," Mary said defensively, "and they are my family. Besides, I make enough money as a stenographer to get by and I don't really have a lot of expenses."

"You never… I don't know, go on a shopping spree?" John asked jokingly, smiling.

Mary shrugged again. "As I said, I make enough money to cover my expenses and I don't really go out that much."

"You never spend any of your own money?" John asked.

"If I had something I wanted…"

"You don't want to travel?" Sherlock asked. John looked at him and tried to figure out what Sherlock had noticed about Mary, that made him ask this question.

"I don't… I'm not really very good around people," Mary said.

John looked at her and felt the need to say something to make her feel better, but couldn't think of anything. Still, Mary didn't seem uncomfortable around other people, she was kind and warm.

"Then how did you meet your fiancé?" Sherlock asked with no tact at all.

Mary looked a bit caught off guard. "There was this one party given by my aunt, and I really wanted to go…"

"Yes?" Sherlock pushed.

"James didn't think it was a very good idea."

"Why not?" John asked.

"Because of the kind of people who would come there."

"What kind of party was it?" John asked surprised.

"And your stepfather says you're not good around people," Sherlock remarked.

John looked at his friend, wondering what conclusion he had just come to.

Mary's face flushed. "Yes," she said.

"But you went to the party without his permission," Sherlock stated.

Mary looked shocked at the fact that Sherlock guessed this, but John just accepted it. "He wasn't in town. He travels a lot - he writes for a travel guide."

"And it was here you met your fiancé?"

"Yes, that's where I met Hosmer."

John had to stop himself from laughing a little at the name, what was it with weird names and this family? On the other hand, maybe he wasn't one to speak, what with having Sherlock as a best friend.

"And you never told your stepfather?"

"No, we kept it secret, I only told my mother, but she was very happy for me."

"And how did your stepfather react when he found out you'd gone to the party?"

"He didn't mind."

"Despite being against it at first?"

Mary nodded in a way that made it clear that she didn't find it suspicious at all.

"Once your stepfather was back from his trip, did you see Hosmer again?"

"Only twice, it was very hard avoiding James. But we emailed constantly."

"Would you mind printing a few of those out for me?" Sherlock asked.

"No, of course not, I'll do it right now," Mary said and she left the room.

As soon as the door closed Sherlock jumped up, He stood in the middle of the room, one hand on his hip and turning on the ball of his foot. John slowly got up as well and looked around the room as well, but couldn't see what Sherlock was looking for.

Suddenly Sherlock strut across the length of the room, ending at a bureau. He studied it from a distance first, than pulled open drawers, and shutting them seemingly without even bothering to look at their contents.

John glanced around the room nervously now, because if Mary came back to find them like this, what could he say? "Sherlock,"John hissed, but Sherlock ignored him. Instead he abruptly turned around and walked over to the window, looking out over the garden surrounding the house.

The door opened and Mary entered, holding a thick pile of paper. "I didn't know which ones you wanted, so I printed them all out,"she said apologetic.

"Very good," Sherlock said, taking the papers from Mary and handing them over to John. "And you received no emails after he stood you up at the altar?" Sherlock asked.

"No, none," Mary said, her voice sounding sad for the first time since they'd gotten there. "And he didn't exactly leave me at the altar."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"The car was just… empty, when it got to the church," Mary said.

"Yes, it's in the police rapport," John said, but Sherlock gestured for him to shut up.

"The car was empty, but do you know for certain he got into the car?" Sherlock asked.

Mary nodded. "Yes, absolutely, the limo driver was certain."

"Hosmer disappeared between his own house and the church, while in the limo, you're certain of it?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," Mary said.

Sherlock lifted his chin a little, what John knew meant he had just figured something out.

"Well that is all we need," Sherlock said, moving towards the door. "Just tell me, how did your parents react to Hosmer's disappearance?"

"James was very angry with Hosmer for having treated me like that. He said I shouldn't let it bother me, that there are just men like that in the world. And my mother just never wanted to discuss it."

"You were the one to file his missing person's report as well, right?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, because neither James nor my mother seemed to believe something had happened to him."

Sherlock slowly nodded. "Right," he said and abruptly turned and left.

John was left looking slightly baffled. "Erm, I'll just…" he pointed at the door. "It was nice to meet you," he said to Mary before running after Sherlock.

As John caught up with Sherlock, he could see the familiar smirk on his friends face. "You've already worked it out, haven't you?" he said.

"Most of it," Sherlock said, his smirk growing in size.

"Well? Let's have it," John said.

"Not quite yet," Sherlock said, "I have to go through the emails first."

"Why? If you already know the answer?"

"It's dangerous to come to conclusions before examining all the facts."

John raised an eyebrow at that, after all, wasn't that exactly what Sherlock always did? "All right, so what do we do now?"

"Read the emails," Sherlock said, picking up the pace to reach the main road. John let out a long, aggravated breath and followed Sherlock.

John was tapping on the arm of his chair. He was bored. Sherlock was going through the emails and John had tried to help, but every time he picked up one, it seemed to be exactly the one Sherlock wanted to examine right that second. So he had given up on trying to help, but he was too curious to concentrate on anything else.

"Look," he said eventually, "if you could just…"

"Read this John," Sherlock handed him a sheet of paper.

John read it over, trying to see why Sherlock had him read it, knowing Sherlock might mock him if he didn't get it.

"What do you observe?" Sherlock asked.

"Erm, he uses a lot of metaphors? His grammar is a bit odd?"

"All valid points, but I would like you to concentrate on the contents, especially the last paragraph."

John reread it but couldn't see what Sherlock found suspicious.

"Don't you find it odd that's he's being so persistent on Mary waiting for him if anything would happen? That they 'will be together sooner or later.'"

"Not really, isn't that what you always say when you're in love?"

"Perhaps," Sherlock said, "but is it what you would tell your fiancé the morning of your wedding?"

John's eyes flashed to the date of the email. "You think he knew something was going to happen to him?"

"I do," Sherlock said, "but not in the way you're thinking of."

"Than in what way…"

"Here, read this," Sherlock handed John another email.

John read it. "They met up, so?"

"They only met face to face three times. Two times when the stepfather was France and once when he was in Italy."

"Wait a second, how do you…"

"His agenda, John," Sherlock responded impatiently, "it was on his bureau."

"Ah," John said.

"And this is the third time they met up, and the time Hosmer proposed to Mary."

"How could you possibly…"

"For one thing, it's seems highly unlikely that Hosmer would propose over email, so seeing as how this was the last time they met face to face… Also, in the next email he's calling Mary his fiancée."

"All right," John said.

"You see now?"

John nodded. "No," he said.

Sherlock let out a deep breath and jumped up from his chair. "Look up the description of Hosmer." Sherlock tossed John the police file. "Read it out to me."

John had stopped trying to argue during moments like these and simply obeyed, "Short, slightly heavy built, pale, black hair, dark side burns, bushy moustache, tinted glasses, weak voice."

Sherlock nodded. Then locked eyes with John, apparently expecting him to get it after that short description of Hosmer. "I still don't see it," John said.

Sherlock lifted his face to the sky and shook his head. "You see as much as I do, but you do not observe," Sherlock said. "Tell me what you notice about this description."

"Hosmer was a very hairy man," John said dryly.

"Exactly!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I still don't follow," John said. Sherlock shook his head at him again.

John looked away, irritated. "Do you know what happened to Mary's mother and Hosmer?" He asked.

"Yes," Sherlock answered, moving to the kitchen table, where his laptop stood. "And I know exactly where we can find Hosmer." It was the last thing Sherlock said all night long. He sat down behind his laptop and started typing. John sighed and switched on the TV.