'My name is Philip Grover, head of Grover's care home, the business my father set up,' the man in the waistcoat said, sitting behind a spacious mahogany desk and smiling across it to Sherlock and John who had sat down in hard backed chairs on the other side. Clarissa had moved across to the opposite side of the room and was pouring brandy into four glasses. She offered them round, Sherlock – and, following his example, John – refused. As her husband took one, they exchanged a meaningful look. Nervously but trying to make his voice sound casual, Philip Grover asked, 'and why are you here?'

'We're here about Billy Grubbs,' Sherlock said, passing his phone to John under the table so that he might have a clue what was going on. He thought it likely that John would give the game away if he didn't understand Sherlock.

Philip Grover choked on the brandy and spluttered as his wife thumped him on the back, 'that case was cleaned up weeks ago!'

Sherlock only just stopped himself from smiling. He'd hit a nerve and he liked that. 'We are just second checking everything before we let the case drop,' Sherlock said, leaning back in the chair until it was resting on only two feet. Beside him, John tried to look like he knew what was going on.

'You didn't second check…' Grover started but his wife hissed, 'Philip!' and he shut up.

Sherlock's chair landed back on the floor with a loud thud. His eyes narrowed and he started to scrutinise the couple who were shifting nervously, knowing that too much had been said. John was starting to catch onto the flow of the conversation now.

'You mean there have been other deaths?' he asked, leaning forward.

'No,' flustered Mrs Grover, her eyes darting to the back of her husband's head and then back to John. 'Not exactly…'

John looked confused. 'What do you mean "not exactly"? Have other people died or not?'

The Grover couple's heads turned to Sherlock for an explanation about John's lack of background knowledge. Sherlock could see the doubt now building about their cover story. He gestured towards John and said, 'new guy, not had time to fill him in. Would you do the honours?'

The couple exchanged looks. They were suspicious now, Sherlock was almost sure they weren't going to say anything. But after a long pause, Grover turned back to John and started talking in an almost bored voice, like he had repeated this many times before.

'It started with Alice Mulroney. She had asthma and ran out of breath at school. Teacher had set them a cross country run to be completed that lesson, anyone who went over had to continue after school – this was the last lesson of the day so that didn't matter much to most people. Alice had some sort of club and wanted to complete it quickly. Had an asthma attack in the field, with no-one to help her and hadn't brought her inhaler, silly girl.'

'That was nearly six months ago, around the time when our last two members of staff joined us. Alice's death certainly shook them, we are grateful they continued, particularly after Kenny's death. Kenny was my deputy. He took care of the home when I couldn't.' ('Nearly all the time then,' Sherlock muttered to himself) 'He died in a car accident with our minibus. Four other children died in that, the eldest was ten. That was about,' he looked at his wife for support, '2?' she shook her head, '3 months ago?' Clarissa nodded curtly. The fingers on her right hand clasped the back of her husband's chair and Sherlock could see her knuckles growing whiter and whiter.

'Poor Kenny, he was a hard worker. Though he was never the same after Millie Spratt's death, she fell from her sister's bedroom window on the third floor. That was when we had that floor bordered up. No-one goes there anymore.'

'Yes,' Grover said, sinking back into his chair, a haunted look growing in the depths of his eyes, 'we've been suffering these recent months. Billy's death was our latest tragedy. No-one really understands what happened. Billy was sixteen and we know that he smoked. One of our workers found cigarettes and a lighter in his room. We believe that he snuck out of the house for a quick smoke before bed,' John noticed Sherlock shift slightly in his seat and his left hand briefly clenched, 'and there was some sort of accident with the lighter. Mike, one of the volunteers, found him. Said he heard something and went to check it out and found Billy. He'd burnt to death.' Sherlock's eyes narrowed and his head twitched. 'Tragic, tragic,' Grover said, completely unaware of how Sherlock was staring at him as he was so focused on John. Clarissa however, her eyes narrowed, was frowning at Sherlock's expression.

'Burnt to death?' Sherlock repeated doubtfully.

'That is according to trained paramedics who we called in when we found him,' Grover said, the pitch of his voice slowly rising, 'you can check the records for proof.'

'I'll keep your word on that,' Sherlock said tersely.

'He didn't mean our records,' Clarissa said sharply, giving her husband a sharp jab in the back, 'he meant the hospital records. Our records are for employees only.'

'Really,' Sherlock said, his gaze shifting to Clarissa, who flinched subtly but held his gaze unwaveringly otherwise, 'that is very interesting. I take it then that we won't be able to look at any of the files concerning the deceased children then?'

'Certain not,' Grover exclaimed, regaining his confidence as his wife hissed like an angered cat, 'those files are confidential. Not without the permission of a member of staff can you look at them and only if they over see it.'

'So how are we supposed to find anything with you breathing down our necks,' Sherlock bristled, his temper rising. He hated it when evidence as essential as this were kept from him. It was like dealing with Lestrade on his very first case all over again.

Sherlock's phone buzzed and John answered it. Another text flashed onto the screen. You're getting off-topic. Ask what they are doing to stop this and what will happen if they don't. Lee

John coughed quietly to get the attention of the three people glaring in stony silence at each other. Almost reluctantly, Grover withdrew and turned to him. John gave a nervous grin and asked in a pleasant voice asked, 'so what's being done about this?'

Clarissa and Sherlock turned to look at him now, curiously. Grover looked confused. John looked at each of them in turn before rephrasing his question, 'what is happening to ensure that no "accidents" happen anymore?'

Sherlock opened his mouth with a small roll of his eyes. John did not want to hear it as he was pretty sure that Sherlock was about to point out to him that it was exceedingly unlikely that these could still be considered accidents. John nudged him with his foot and tapped the phone with his fingertip. Sherlock gazed at him levelly and John suddenly felt his insides shrink as Sherlock's gaze bore into him. He simply handed the phone back and turn back to the couple.

Mr and Mrs Grover missed this exchanged as they were too busy staring at each other as if silently discussing how to answer.

Finally Grover said, 'I don't see what else can be done. We've closed off the third floor and the minibus is checked every other week by our technical volunteer Mike. What are you suggesting we do?'

'I don't know,' Sherlock muttered sarcastically so only John heard him, 'take away all lighters and sharp objects.'

John gave him a look which he hoped Sherlock would register as "that wasn't helpful" before turning to the couple the other side of the desk. 'What will happen if these continue?'

'We don't know,' Clarissa said and John was taken aback by the sudden tenderness in her voice, 'we know that the social network doubts our capability. If these continue, there is a chance that the children will be taken from us, reassigned to different care homes and this house will go back to just that, a normal house. We are desperate that... it never comes to that.' Clarissa moved away from her husband back towards the class cabinet that contained the brandy and gave a shuddering breath. John was shocked with this sudden episode of anxiousness that the woman felt towards the situation. He began to doubt that he had judged her right.

Sherlock however was not fooled by this act. 'Very well,' he said after a quick glance at John and thinking that it was best to get off this topic as John was clearly having some major doubts, 'you said two members of staff joined you, but you've only mentioned one.'

'Yes,' Grover said quickly, thankful for the change in topic, 'Elizabeth Evens and Mike Knowles. Mike's our resident handyman, always fixing everything and uh... you met Elizabeth.'

Sherlock nodded. He eyed Clarissa, who still had her back to them, shrugged and said, getting to his feet, 'very well. Thank you for your time.'

John hurriedly joined him as Sherlock swept from the room. As he closed the door, John caught the couple exchange a nervous glance as if to say "was that too much?"

A startled teenage girl, the same girl from earlier but without the toddler, descended the last few steps and sidled away down the hall towards the kitchen. Sherlock was leaning with his forehead against the wall, frowning deeply.

This was supposed to be helpful,' he exploded suddenly. With a squeak, the girl disappeared through the door. John just sighed and waited for an explanation for this outburst. He didn't have to wait long. 'I understand that these are not normal accidents,' Sherlock muttered, 'our mysterious friend wouldn't summon us otherwise. Why though? What do they want me to do?'

'Prove these are not accidents?' John suggested.

'Obviously,' Sherlock said tersely. 'How do they expect me to do that though with no evidence? Why should they care if this place is closed down? Oh…' he stared straight ahead, his eyes widening with understanding. John looked around expectantly. When he saw nothing new, he turned to Sherlock.

'What?'

'This place will be closed down if accidents continue,' Sherlock said slowly.

There was a pause. 'Yes?' John said expectantly.

Sherlock said nothing for a minute then straightened up and stuck his head back into the office. The discussion inside stopped abruptly. 'Sorry to bother you,' Sherlock said, 'but do you mind if we look around?'

There was a hurried reply of 'no, no, of course not,' from Grover and then Sherlock shut the door with a snap. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. John waited whilst Sherlock thought. A smile slowly spread across Sherlock's face.

A pair of dark eyes narrowed shrewdly as they watched the two men from the dark end of the hall.