''Consulting detective? It's the first time I hear such thing...please, do come in.''

Said Mrs. Stortford, moving aside to let the three strangers in. The first man, who was tall and handsome, had a calm expression on his face, looking slowly around every little detail with his bright blue eyes. He was followed by I smaller man with brown eyes and short blond hair who was watching the man in front, like if he was making sure that he wasn't going to run off. And behind him was a young girl with long brown hair and an old green jacket, looking a bit lost, who gave a large and shy smile to the old women.

''Please, have a seat.''

They sat down on a pink davenport, John in the middle, the curly man on his left, and the cute women on his right. The old lady was fascinated by these three very different personalities, sitting in very different ways. One had his long leg crossed and watching with a strong look, the other was sitting straight and with a formal haircut, and the last one was trying to take less space possible on the couch and was looking down at her knees. Mrs. Stortford nearly laugh about them, it seemed unimaginable that these three strangers were sitting on the same chesterfield. She sat down herself on a matching sofa and left her walking stick against the armchair.

''So how may I help you?''

''You don't look very sad about the death of your own daughter.''

Said Sherlock, not caring about how rude the question was. John would have slapped him if he wasn't two heads taller than him. So he just simply yelled:

''Sherlock!''

''No...Its okay.''

Said the old women to John, who looked at her with a non understanding face.

''It is true that me and Jane didn't go along well. We never made contact with each other after she left the house at only 7 she left Ireland to come in England, to live with her father. Two years after I came to see her, even if she didn't care about me being there or not. The only reason why she went living with Scott was because he was rich. She really didn't seem to care about the rest I'm afraid. After a few years I moved to England myself. She was a brilliant student even if her horrible reputation preceded her. I always wondered what went through my daughter's mind... ''

''So when was the last time you saw her?''

''About 18 years ago, she was getting married, she was 28. Her husband had invited me without consulting her and she was very mad about that. The last words I heard from her was: '' you disgraceful mother.''.''

Molly was chocked, but she couldn't resist asking a question herself.

''Did you still love her?''

Sherlock sighted loudly. John glanced back at him, making him have a tiny, but really small feeling of regret. Mrs. Stortford weakly smiled to the girl before kindly answering.

''I wished I could say yes, but it would be a lie. To be frank I don't even know if I ever really loved her.''

Even Sherlock was surprised by her answer. Even more than John, who decided to quickly change conversation with another question.

''Do you know why Jane kept the name of her husband after her divorce?''

She looked at him with a little laugh.

''She didn't want to have the same name as this family she hated.''

Once again, the young woman, setting next to John, was deeply chocked by her answers.

''And what happened to your husband?''

''Well Mr. Holmes, he died a few years ago of illness, I was at his funeral but I'm afraid Jane was not, I guess she didn't really care. ''

She grabbed her walking stick and painfully stood up. She turned back towards the white chimney behind her. She slowly grabbed a photo that was on top of the clean marble. It was her daughter and herself on it, when Jane was about 5, 6 years old.

''I never saw that poor child smile. I wonder if she was truly happy, I actually doubt it. ''

She placed the picture back down and a tear ran down her cheek, than a second on the other.

''What have I done wrong for her to hate me so much...?''

Sherlock was watching, with a cold emotion on his face. John stood up, watched by Molly, who would had started crying if it wasn't for what John was going to do.

''We are sorry to have bothered you, Thank you for your answers.''

She turned back to the short man and gently smiled before letting one last tear drop.

''And you obviously couldn't tell that before...''

''I did, but you weren't listening enough.''

''I was!''

Their argument made them forget about the poor lost girl trying to keep up with them. John sighted and glanced back on last time towards Sherlock.

''So I'm repeating this for you bunch of idiots: On one of the pictures who were on the chimney was the complete family. The father, the mother, the daughter and the brother.''

''She had a brother...?''

Asked Molly, walking next to John.

''When his mother left Ireland, he stayed there to finish his studies; he was in university at that moment probably. But I don't understand why his mother didn't mention him at all...

''Maybe he died.''

''Oh come on John! If he was she would had mentioned him at least once. But no, it was like if she was trying to hide him...''

''Hide him? But what for?''

''He could have killed her, and the mother who knows about it is on his side. Or even better, she asked him to kill her against something else...''

''But she was so nice, she couldn't have possibly...''

''Don't be even more stupid it was obviously fake even her tears was comedy.''

He had just the time to finish his words that they had arrived at the blue door of 221B Baker Street.