Scholomer Kohls entered the room. John was quite keen to hear what he had to say. Hang on, something was different. Kohls walked into the room. He had not been drugged. "Mr Kohls has approached us with the idea of him telling the whole story to us. There's no need for handcuffs or drugs." Mycroft had explained all this to John before Kohls came in. John was in the shadows. Supposedly invisible. And yet, when Scholomer entered the room, he caught sight of john. And he stared him right in the face and smiled with his eyes. But it was not a smile of happiness. It was a smile that said "Look at yourself now, you idiot. You're sitting in a government interrogation room, desperately hoping for some news about your dead friend."
It's amazing how much a man's eyes can convey.
They were faint eyes too. Like a man who had stared down death. Who had looked into the other side and saw nought but a black light. But that was to be expected from a man who dealt with bodies all day. But the thing that caught john's attention was his short black hair. It looked as though it had recently been cut. And there was a huge gash down the side of his head.

Scholomer Kohls sat down. Mycroft began.
"Herr Kohls, just for the record, can you please confirm your name, place of birth and nationality?"
When Kohls spoke, his accent was strange. There was no doubt it belonged to a man who had lived in London all his life, but he was still an authentic German.
"My name is Scholomer Kohls, and I was born in London to German parents."
"Excellent." Mycroft replied. "Now, if you would please state the reason you are here."
"I am here because the truth must come out. I believe Sherlock Holmes is still alive."
"Describe what happened on the day Sherlock died."
"I was working at a hospital a few miles down the road. I was going to clock out, when I got the call saying that Sherlock Holmes had committed suicide and that St. Bartholomew's needed a mortician because their own one had a breakdown. Molly Something. I forget."
"And what happened then?" Mycroft was keen to push the German for more.
"It was a celebrity case, I couldn't say no. When I got to the hospital, I saw the body first thing. I performed the usual checks: X-rays, Blood tests, that sort of thing. The results matched all known samples. The blood was Sherlock's, all traces of skin at the site belonged to the man himself."
The two men were mystified and intrigued.
"If the results came up positive, why do you think he may still be alive?" Mycroft asked him.

The German took a deep breath.
"I had stepped outside to take a break for five minutes. When I walked back in, there was a senior police officer telling me to leave, as apparently, His body had been taken for examination at some police facility a few streets away. One of my friends works at the station, so I called him up to ask him about it. He said there was no word of such a thing occurring."

Mycroft seemed satisfied, but John spoke to a subject for the first time.
"Herr Kohls, if you don't mind, where did that gash on the side of your head come from?"
"An accident. I fell whilst getting out of the taxi that took me home."
John wasn't too sure about that, but he decided not to press further.
"You are free to go." Said Mycroft.
With this, the German stood up and left.

"Are you satisfied, John? Are you absolutely, without a doubt, 159% confident that your friend, Sherlock Holmes, is alive and well?
"Not yet," Replied Watson quietly. "I want the name and full details of that police officer who told Kohls to leave. She'll know. She probably arranged the whole thing."
The elder Holmes became impatient.
"And she's probably innocent! I have doubts, Mr Watson. Same as you. But what you have to remember is that you don't call the shots around here. I do. So I suggest you take the German's word as the ultimate truth. There is a loose code of ethics for this sort of thing. We don't just go around abducting people! We need justification, we need planning, we need….. You know, somehow I don't think you appreciate how hard it is to do what I do. It's important that justice is done, but there are rules to make sure it is done properly! And John Watson, for as long as I walk this Earth, you will abide by those rules!"

John was unmoved. "I never said I wanted to kidnap her. I just wanted her details."