Movement. Shuffling. Voices. Machines. Smell of gas, iron and salt. Head spinning. Can't open eyes. Can't feel limbs. Can't move. Can't speak. Sleep. Just sleep.

Arlene's cab stopped right in front of the detective's door. She nervously handed the cab driver some cash, and leaped out of the car. She spent a moment trying to calm herself down before knocking on the door.

"Who's there?" An old woman opened the door. Arlene's heart dropped – what if she got the wrong door? "Yes?"

"I'm...here to see Sherlock Holmes."

"Just go up the stairs, dear. Knock first." Arlene smiled and made her way up the stairs. The house smelled nice and welcoming. Arlene's nervousness seemed to go away with the atmosphere of the house.

She followed the old woman's directions and knocked on the first door.

Silence.

Arlene's heart dropped again: her only hope was now not answering. She knew she should have called first.

She knocked again, louder.

She heard a loud bang, and then glass shattering. Then, the door opened and a voice invited her to go in.

She carefully walked through the doorway, inside a somewhat messy but cozy living room. Arlene was not a neat freak, so the utter chaos of random objects lying everywhere didn't bother her at all. There were books on every piece of furniture. Newspaper clippings were scattered all over the floor. There was also a broken vase near the window.

She turned to face the man who let her in.

"John Watson," he said, shaking her hand.

"Arlene Simmons."

"Just take a seat in the armchair there, I'll call him right down."

"If he's busy I can come another day," Arlene whispered through her teeth.

John Watson smiled.

"No, don't worry. I'm very glad you came. I was hoping someone would come…"

Arlene didn't ask anything and just sat down nervously. She noticed a violin on the armchair across from her. Immediately, she began to like the person she was about to speak to. Anyone who played an instrument was already her friend. She was so very tempted to grab it and play it herself, but she was able to restrain herself.

Arlene took a deep breath and collected her thoughts.

She looked up when she heard footsteps. The man who suddenly appeared before her was tall and very fit. He looked absent but she could tell that he was definitely excited for something. His eyes were quick and piercing. She knew who he was. This was the same man whom she helped at the Yellow Umbrella. He was the same man who told them to change the lock.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said, sitting down across her. He grabbed the violin and placed it gently on the floor to his left. He placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and entwined his fingers in front of his face. He stared at Arlene with his piercing stare.

John came over, and he just leaned against the table.

"What brings you here, Ms. Simmons?" He asked.

Arlene took a deep breath.

"I live on Abbotsbury Road, and. –"

"So you're here about the disappearance then?"

"Yes, I –" Arlene almost smiled in relief. He knew. He knew about the disappearances.

"Please tell me what happened, every detail, everything you can think of."

"Should I leave?" John asked quietly.

"No, of course not." Sherlock said to him. "Ms. Simmons?"

"Arlene," she corrected.

"Arlene, why don't you start from the beginning."

Arlene didn't have much to say. Her knowledge of the situation was very limited. She finished her story in less than ten minutes. She doubted his ability, just like she doubted the yard. No one would be able to get her answers with this little evidence. Sherlock Holmes did not interrupt her. He only asked unrelated questions, or tried to get minor details.

His eyes stared into space with deep thought. Arlene could almost see his brain work. He clapped his hands.

"I'm taking your case," he said.

"How much do you –"

"We'll get to that later. Do you mind if I look around your townhouse?" He was already up, putting on his coat.

"No, anything to help you." Arlene got up as well. She grabbed her jacket and headed to the stairs. "I'll get us a cab."

"Allons – y, John. This case promises to be very interesting. Very interesting." Sherlock Holmes said, running down the stairs. John Watson sighed and ran after him.

It was almost past noon, and the cars were blocking the streets everywhere. The traffic built up, and Arlene's cab was stuck half way to her house.

"If you don't mind me asking, but how did you know about the lock?" Arlene wondered shyly, to relieve the almost awkward tension in the cab. "You know, that day at the Yellow Umbrella, you said that I need a new lock, and you were right, so…"

"Well, your accent is quite distinctive to the north America. At your age, accents are very easy to acquire. If you stayed here for more than a year, your distinctive accent would have been gone. This tells me that you lived in England for less than a month. Your clothes are neat and polished, not very expensive, but good looking enough for someone who used to have a regular income. I can infer that you have already purchased a house. The food on your table told me that you were having lunch. Why someone choose to go to a simple road café for lunch? The lack of contents in your friend's purse tells me that you don't live too far. The distinct smell of pine and maple trees tell me that you live near the park. Where is the nearest living spaces available close to a park and the Yellow Umbrella? Abbotsbury Road. This is the one of the very little that only have townhouses. These are old English townhouses, with old locks. The city has been slacking on inspection for the past two years, thus basic safety features, like locks and windows are probably unsafe. Judging by the fact that you recently moved in, the curtains are still not preventing strangers from looking inside your house. The easy to break in houses tend to attract burglars that lurk everywhere around the time of lunch. It is very likely that one of them saw the mess in your house, and broke in without the lock stopping them."

Arlene's jaw dropped. She stared at him, not entirely believe that he could tell all that just from what they were wearing and eating.

"That was brilliant," she said. "Absolutely amazing."

Sherlock Holmes smiled a little, but he was still looking out the window of the cab with his judging eyes. Arlene wondered what he already knows about Iris. She was dying to know. She was tempted to ask. But she knew that she had to patient.

Finally, the cab pulled over to the empty street. Now that the fall came, the trees began shedding their leaves, the grass started to turn yellow, and occasional rains made the ground black. The street resembled a cemetery. It was rather eerie.

Arlene was walking to the front door with John, but Sherlock Holmes stayed behind. He looked around, sniffling. He looked under the stairs, under the windows, and he even checked Arlene's neighbour's front porches. Arlene and John watched him in silent wonder. He looked like a child overwhelmed by the amount of Christmas toys he had just opened.

Finally, he walked up the stairs and through the front doors. He seemed to know where the living room was right away, and he strolled there without hesitation. Arlene ran after him, trying to understand what he was doing. But his actions were nothing like she's ever seen before. He checked every inch of the room in less than five minutes, and then he returned back to the front door. He closed it. Then he walked over to the window beside it and examined it closely. Then, he left the house, and closed the door from the outside. Arlene saw his focused face examining the same window again from the outside.

"What is he doing?" Arlene asked, confused by his actions.

"He's always like this," John said, with a somewhat apologetic smile on his face. "Better let him be."

"He's almost like a child."

"He is like a child." John nodded, his smile widening.

Arlene smiled. Her mood was getting better by the second.

Sherlock appeared in the hallway again. Although his face was unchanged, his eyes were almost glowing with excitement and smugness.

Arlene stared at him with anticipation. No other detective she hired looked this pleased with himself after looking around her house.

"Your friend, Arlene, was kidnapped and I am sure I can help you find her."