Knock. Wind. Cold. Rain. Discomfort. Darkness.

"What do you mean 'wait 24 hours'! She said: "I will be here when you get back'! She was not planning to go anywhere!"

"May be she went to see a friend. Did you have a fight?"

"No! She has no friends. We have no friends. We've moved here two months ago!"

"I'm sorry, miss, but you cannot file a missing persons report until after 24 hours. You'll have to wait. May be she will come back."

"I am not waiting! Do you understand me? She said she would be here! She was gone! All her stuff is still at the house. Even her wallet. Even her cell phone. She disappeared. You have an obligation to investigate!"

"There is no need to shout!"

Arlene stared the officer at the desk down. There was no ways she'd be leaving without filing that report. She knew that Iris disappeared, just like everyone else on their goddamned street.

"It's been a whole night and half a day. Isn't that enough? She has a job, she's wanted there. She wouldn't have abandoned it. She's missing, and something is up here, and you need to look into it."

"Ms. Beige is an adult. May be she's out with friends."

"How many times do I have to tell you that she has no friends! We haven't been out that much to make friends that would let us stay over. GIVE ME THE GODDAMNED REPORT!"

The officer sighed and handed Arlene the paper before she caused a scene. It took her merely five minutes to fill it out. She knew that the report really wouldn't get her anywhere, but it was worth a shot. The yard gave up on the search for the neighbour's daughter, and the suicide case was still open.

Arlene did not want to give up. She hated being in the house, knowing that she let Iris slip through her hands, knowing that Iris was gone, and not knowing when she'd see her again. Arlene was angry, but her anger always disappeared whenever she opened the door. She cried enough for that day, and she couldn't possibly cry more.

Days passed, and police officers came over, looked around for suspicious signs, and asked her questions. Weeks, after weeks, there were no calls from anyone with new information. Arlene began making the calls herself, every Wednesday, at 8PM, to the same officer, asking if there were any new developments. She received the same answer every time. And every time the officer said "No, leave us alone" in a nice way, Arlene was losing faith in them.

She searched the newspapers and the Web for private investigators, intending to spend as much money as she could to get the best ones, to hire at least one person who could do something.

Arlene was never a proactive person. She'd rather let things unfold and see what comes. But this sudden change, she felt like she has been forced to live a life of someone else. Iris, her best friend, her flatmate, and she realized how much she depended on her. From a simple opinion on an outfit, to once in a while curly hair, Iris was the center of Arlene's universe.

Arlene made contact with several investigators. One of them managed to find a little scratch on the outside of the living room window, and he assumed that this is where she left or was taken from. Arlene tried to be nice, but there was no way she would leave through the window. Or, if she was, likely, kidnapped, there would have been more signs of struggle. Iris couldn't have opened the door to someone she knew, because she knew no one. She wouldn't even open the door to Anderson – because her boss showing up in the middle of the night would be just creepy.

Unsatisfied, and angry, she kept going to work, asking people around if they knew anyone who could help her, or anyone who was in the same situation – who was not on her street.

Arlene was sitting by herself in the university cafeteria, eating her own lunch. She was reading the newspaper, trying to see if anyone else disappeared, or to find a new private investigator. She stared at the paper in anger when her eyes fell on the article about police finding a missing child and rescuing a hostage. They didn't deserve this praise, if they refuse to take time to investigate the disappearances on her street. It didn't have to be hers. Anyone.

"Arlene Simmons?" Arlene blinked. She didn't want to explain the lecture notes again to another student who spend the entire class playing solitaire. She lifted her eyes to look at the person standing beside her.

"Yes? Look, if you're in one of my classes, just make an appointment." She said, softly, trying not to sound like she was about to bite.

"Arlene! I'm Emma. Emma Morton. We went to University together, remember? Back in the states?"

It took Arlene about a minute to remember her face. She was someone she knew from her life as a student. They used to copy each other's homework and create study notes together.

"Oh gosh, Emma! What brings you here, so far?"

"I could ask you the same question…" Emma smiled, sitting down across Arlene.

"Well I moved here with a friend of mine, and now I work here," Arlene said, laughing.

"Really? I am a scientist now, I'm a guest speaker today. Can you believe it?"

Feeling rather nostalgic, Arlene and Emma spend the rest of the lunch talking. Arlene haven't had a proper conversation with anyone for, what it seemed like, years.

"So who is this friend of yours? Can I meet him?"

"Oh no, no, it's not like that. Her name is Iris."

"HER name? Gosh Arlene, have you been keeping secrets?"

"What? No, we're just friends."

"But you live together"

"We share a house."

"Oh, okay." Emma's eyes flickered. She didn't want to start an argument. The two of them always argue like a married couple, about every single little thing. Sometimes, it was fun, but most of the time, they ended up in an actual fight. Today, neither of them wanted to get into that, so Emma just left it alone. She was fighting back a mocking smile.

"You can't meet her anyway. She's…missing." Arlene's heart dropped. Every time she used "she", "Iris" and/or "missing" in one sentence, she wanted to cry.

"How?"

"I don't know. She's just gone and it's been weeks and no one can find her. I tried everything and everyone and there is nothing." Arlene complained. With each sentence, her voice shook as she tried to hold her panic back.

Emma stared at Arlene. She could tell how upset she was. She wasn't a genius, but Arlene's pain was written all over her.

"I think I may be able to help you."

"What?" Arlene looked up. She looked like she just heard the voice of a god. "How? You're a scientist, you can't –"

"I know someone, who inherited a lot of money and it was publicly revealed somehow. Then his baby got kidnapped and he hired a detective who helped him get his baby back…I was there, that man is…a genius."

"What?"

"Here, here's his address…Give him a chance, Arlene." Emma said, writing down an address and a two phone numbers on a napkin. "I have to go do my presentation now. The number with a lot of fours is mine. Call me and let me know how you're doing."

Emma smiled, waved and ran off. Arlene stared at the napkin. Her tears were gone. If someone was good enough to be recommended, she ought to give him a chance.

"Sherlock Holmes. 221B Baker Street"

Interesting coincidence, Arlene thought. It seems as though we've met before.