After the exam was settled, Sherlock left the flat. He had texted Lestrade that he would meet him at the station. He hadn't done his usual deducing because of the state that Sofia seemed to be in, and therefore it was all bottled up inside, everything he knew and found out from the time watching Sofia.

He took a cab to New Scotland Yard, and then walked in with his usual confidence, barely glancing at anyone else as he strode through the building, walking into Lestrade's office without so much as a knock, flopping down in one of his chairs before starting to remove his gloves.

Lestrade was tired; this case was really taking it out of him this time, "Sherlock." He greeted the madman, before leaning back and sighing. "Alright... let's have it. Sofia." He said, motioning to Sherlock to let him have it.

"Young. Mid 20's. Quiet life before now, never once for much excitement. Excellent dancer, calluses' on her feet and the way she moves means she had ballet lessons when she was younger. She took them for years, probably stopped right before university. Didn't have time for classes and lessons." Sherlock pressed his hands together in a prayer gesture, resting his chin on his thumbs, eyes unfocused. "She wasn't lying in her account. You'll probably find that she had some sort of secretarial job. Calluses on her middle and index fingers meant that she writes a lot, probably some form of PA, her hands make it obvious that she's also quite proficient in typing. No piercings or tattoos, save for the piercings in her ears. This means she was never rebellious. When we first found her, there were still traces of makeup, and of course you know that she was still wearing clothes that would have been appropriate for a club, your forensics team took them away after her initial examination." he says simply. "Speech indicates that early development was in America, but moved here when she was young, giving her enough time to adjust her speech. Therefore she has an accent and she uses British slang." He explains, considering, slouching down in the chair a little and then tilting his head back toward the ceiling. "Sedentary life now, but she keeps herself busy enough to keep in shape. No drug habits, not even smoking, the only marks on her arms are new, from whatever they gave her."

Lestrade trusted him about the drugs, after all if anyone knew about that sort of thing it would be Sherlock Holmes. He was taking notes now, thinking it might help him find Sofia's real identity. "Go on." He urged the other man, not knowing why he had held himself back before in the flat, in fact he was positively civil, but also knowing enough to know that he had to wait until the deductions were done before asking anything else, unless he wanted a lecture on his stupidity.

"I am sure it will be confirmed shortly, but I don't believe she was raped. The men who kidnapped her, they were going to sell her off at a higher price because she was.. untouched." Sherlock says the name with distaste. "She never flinches when John or I go near her, so she has no phobias of men, therefore, despite showing obvious signs of trauma, and the bruises she had when we first found her, she was not sexually assaulted. So far, so obvious." he says with a little bit of distaste, as if he was disappointed that everything was so easy. "She's become a bit agoraphobic. She objected to going to a hospital, had to get Mycroft to send a doctor to the flat..." He was more musing now than deducing, then he took a sharp, deep breath before lifting his head to look back at the DI. "However, she is also highly afraid to return to her flat. Most likely there was some threat made against her. There is more to this than a simple kidnapping. Why hold her for so long, spend the money to keep her drugged on morphine when they could have quickly sold her off to the highest bidder? She's an attractive young girl; it would have been easy money for someone in their trade." He mused the last part almost to himself as he tried to suss out the question.

"Sir?" A voice came from the door, female, the dark-haired Sally Donovan knocking on the door frame as she looked at Lestrade. "Freak." She greeted Sherlock with a sneer. "What are you doing here?" She demanded, holding a file folder in one hand that implied she might have some sort of lead.

Lestrade sighed and before Sherlock could reply, he spoke up. "Donovan, do you have something for me?" He asked, indicating the folder.

"Yeah, got a hit on your girl... Sofia Charles." Sally steps into the room and hands the folder to Lestrade. "Presumed dead. Flat burned down a few weeks ago, body fitting her body type was found, mutilated, badly burned. DI Dimmock thought it was a mob hit but there were no leads."

Sherlock snorted at that. "Idiots." he muttered as he sat up, snatching the folder from Lestrade and looking through the information. A small, lopsided smirk spread over his face and he handed the folder back to Lestrade. "Thank you, Inspector. I'll let you know when I have more information." He said as he slid on his gloves. "Sergeant Donovan." He says dismissively as he swept out of the office again and to the elevator, leaving a dumbfounded Lestrade holding the folder in hand.

-oOo-

"Your gift was well received I take it. Well done, saying it was from me, though I'm not sure if all of the things you got for her were strictly necessary." Mycroft said from where he sat behind his desk, looking at some CCTV footage while simultaneously glancing at a receipt with a slightly arched eyebrow.

Anthea smirked as she glanced up at him from her Blackberry. "With all due respect, sir, that is one of many reasons why you are still a bachelor." She says with a little chuckle, before turning her attention back to her phone.

Mycroft's eyebrows shot toward his hairline at that. It was so rare for his assistant to speak up with any sort of opinion like that, especially regarding his love life. "Mmm. Apparently so." he admits his shortcomings reluctantly as he looks back at the CCTV footage. "What do you make of it, how is our little plan going?"

Anthea hummed noncommittally. "Since you planned for them to meet at the club and not through the kidnapping, I think it's going rather better than planned. They are protective." She paused in her typing to look up at her boss. "Do you think Sherlock can help two wounded people?"

Mycroft smirked a little. "I think they will help him more than he can help them. Nothing ever goes to plan, but you're right, this is working out rather well. We shall see how long it lasts."

Anthea sighs a little. "If he finds out about your involvement it could ruin it." She cautions her boss once more.

Mycroft smirked a little. "Have a little faith, my dear. If he ever finds out, it will be far too late for him. Besides, I doubt even the great Sherlock Holmes could find what few breadcrumbs may be out there." To anyone else that might have sounded menacing but his assistant knew him better than that.

Anthea looked less than impressed; Mycroft switched the view on his CCTV camera. "And it is not as if she is not a real person. She is exactly the same as when she signed her body away." He glances at his assistant, seeing her about to object, so he gracefully holds up a hand to stop her. "Yes, we did remove her memories, but what better puzzle for my dear brother, than one that is missing pieces?" He asks with amusement, settling back in his chair.

-oOo-

Yeah, short chapter this time, but I didn't really write this with 'chapters' in mind. I hope you all are enjoying this. If you are, please leave a review! Not sure if there's any interest in this. I guess I'll just keep posting for a while and see what happens! I'm a tad stuck at the moment, and work is hell, so my updates will likely be erratic.

Thank you to everyone who has read so far!