Chapter 2

"Yes, I think that one would work the best." Irene said, glancing up from her phone to look at the tweed jacket Sherlock was holding up.

"That's what I said." Sherlock looked slightly put out, and was pouting.

"Well, it didn't work last time." Irene said in a sing-song voice, her eyes still not leaving the phone.

"Yeah, like it's my fault you didn't realise she prefers the other sex."

"I believe the deducing is your job, Mr. Holmes."

"I believe you're quite capable of that as well, Miss Adler." Sherlock said back, "Especially about…emotions…" He shuddered.

"Oh come on, stop over-reacting." Irene said, locking her phone and looking up at him, 'It's not as disgusting as you think it is, if you only tried it…"

"I'll let my assumptions be wrong, then."

Greg, John, and the whole office was staring at the phone number on the photocopied paper, it seems a little weird that their whole career rests on this piece of paper.

"So, what are we going to do?" Greg said, "We can't just call them."

"No…" John said, still staring at the phone number, "But if we don't call them, what are we going to do?"

"Well, fist of all, we have to ask the lads to run this number in the system, see who it belongs to."

"Then?"

"Beats me."

John leaned back in his chair, forcing the people crowded around his desk to shuffle back. This is it. He thought to himself. This is our first real clue.

Sherlock sat down on a bench in the park, wearing a tweed suit and heavy, wire framed glasses. His hair was matted with gel, and there's a coffee stain on his jacket that wasn't an accident. In his hands he held a dejected looking bouquet, slightly wilted and sad, it had taken him some time to convince the owner of the stall that he actually wanted those flowers.

"Hey, Mr. Holmes, why the long face?"

Sherlock looked up to see the sympathetic face of the one and only Lana Cox, who worked at the library, and more importantly, was Professor Smith's teaching assistant. The only reason they were involving Lana was because Professor Smith is very devoted to his wife, and even Irene could not derail him, so now they have to heartlessly use this young lady.

"Oh nothing, Lana." Sherlock pretended to look sadder, and held up the bouquet in lieu of an explanation, "She stood me up."

"Oh, Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock, please."

"Oh, Sherlock." She said, and sat down next to him. Sherlock had been changing into dumb outfits and buying coffee at the same place Lana got hers for the past month, they struck up conversation, and cultivated a platonic relationship, well, at least platonic for now.

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock mumbled, still looking down, "Maybe she forgot, I'll call and apologise."

"What on earth are you apologising for?" Lana asked, incredulous.

"Well, I must have bored her to death and…" Sherlock really wanted to roll his eyes at how the girl was buying everything he offered, "Sorry to bore you with that, can I buy you some coffee? I'll make it up to you."

"There's nothing to make up for, I really enjoy our talks." Lana said, Sherlock could see that she was thrilled to be asked out. "But since there's free coffee, there's no way I could say no."

Sherlock smiled meekly at her, but inside he was grinning triumphantly. He lead her inside the coffee house, and ordered at the counter, then excusing himself to use the bathroom. He knew that the chances of Lana being wary of him drugging her drink were minimal, but he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, and to be honest, that trick is really rather crude. He took out something in a ziplock bag from his pocket, and put it in his mouth.

"Hey, sorry if I was long."

"You weren't." Lana said, smiling.

Sherlock settled in, and then began taking off the tweed jacket, revealing a pristine white shirt, he rolled up the cuffs. Then, he tousled his hair so that it returned to its usual state, and he took off his glasses. Lana noticed how his entire demeanour changed, it was as if he was a completely different person, the transformation would've really fascinated her if it wasn't for that fact that she was slightly alarmed.

"Now, Lana, where were we?" Sherlock said, and then leaned over the coffee table, engaging Lana in a passionate kiss, which while was enjoyable to Lana, also resulted in the packet going inside Lana's mouth, where the plastic bursted with a firm push by Sherlock's tongue. When they parted, Lana looked slightly dazed.

"I hope I wasn't too forward, Lana."

"You…weren't?" The poor girl looked incredibly confused, but she smiled at him as if to reassure him.

"Then I believe I will have to invite you back to my place."

Sherlock led the, now half conscious and slightly delirious, Lana into his car, and then drove back to his "place".

The same intern from before came into their office again, "I've got the results!" He waved a piece of paper at them.

Greg stuffed his donuts in, and gestured for the intern to hand the paper to him.

"What is it?" John asked, turning his swivel chair to face Greg, he was also chewing on a donut, which definitely made his cycle to work useless. "Who does it belong to?"

"Doesn't say." Greg said, "It's a disposable phone, so we won't be able to track it either."

"Oh." John looked down, so much for the first real clue, "So all we can do it to call it?"

"Yes."

"Great." John said drily. They only have once chance, and the fact that it's a disposable phone made the possibility that it was already disposed higher.

Sherlock dropped off Lana with Irene, then went back to his experiments.

"What's the plan from here?" Irene asked, perched on a stool facing Sherlock.

"We wait."

The doorbell rang.

They both looked up, their eyes wide and surprised, no one, not even their most valuable clients, knew where this house was. Looking at each other, they both got up and walked to the door silently, and Irene looked into the peephole, it was a meek young women, holding a tray of cookies and looking worriedly at the door. Irene opened it, the woman's face lit up.

"Hi! I just moved in next door!" She said, flustered but cheerful, "I made some cookies, and I hope we will be great neighbours."

Sherlock looked the woman up and down, scanning everything from her hair to her shoes, then he inclined his head in a greeting, and walked away. She blushed.

"Oh, don't mind him." Irene said, and smiled, "He just doesn't like strangers."

"Oh no, it's fine…" The woman said, her eyes trying to catch a glimpse of the dark figure that is long gone.

"Thank you for the cookies, I'm Irene Adler, and that's Sherlock Holmes." Irene said, extending her hand.

"Molly Hooper, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh no, believe me, the pleasure's all mine."