Half an hour later and the three men were sat on the train to Devon. Sherlock had insisted on a table seat and so presently sat next to the window, arms folded across his chest and his feet resting on the empty seat opposite him. John sat to his left, and Lestrade was opposite John. Both men sat in mirrored positions, arms resting on the table, one leg crossed over the other.

The train began to pull away from the station and Sherlock let his eyes flutter closed. Lestrade had explained the case in the taxi to Paddington station: the body of a man had been found floating in the sea at Dartmouth, but the last time the man had been seen was on a boat in Paignton harbour. It was a Detective Inspector friend of Lestrade of who had called him from Paignton that morning asking if, perhaps, Lestrade would be willing to ask the famous Sherlock Holmes to travel down and assist them with an investigation. Why, Lestrade had asked, would then need Sherlock's help for a body in the water? The answer had simply been that it was significantly more complicated than that, but that it would be explained to them when they arrived.

Behind his closed eyes, Sherlock's mind buzzed. Shapes, colours, letters and numbers all flashed through the darkness, forming incomplete thoughts and sentences. John and Lestrade were talking in low voices: John asked how he knew the Detective Inspector in Paignton.

"We trained together and kept in touch," was the reply.

They lapsed into silence again; Sherlock still had his eyes closed, apparently trying to solve the case before even arriving at their destination. John glanced sideways at Sherlock, noticing the tension in his forehead as he frowned, and the slight twitch in his lips as he seemingly muttered something to himself.

"Fancy a game of cards, John?" Lestrade asked, producing a Bicycle brand pack from inside his jacket pocket and placing it on the table.

"Sure," replied John, shifting in his seat so that he was more comfortable.

Sherlock opened his eyes and sat up. "Count me in too."

John raised an eyebrow. "You know that you'll win every time. Won't it be boring for you?"

"Of course it will be, but it will be less boring than staring out of the window for the next four hours."

Lestrade shrugged and began to shuffle the cards. "Cheat?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Yes, let's see who has the best poker face, shall we?"

John sighed, knowing full well that he was going to become unbearably smug once he won game after game. Sure enough, half an hour later, Sherlock's grin had been growing more and more pronounced. Both John and Lestrade knew that they had never had a chance at winning, but they both had inwardly hoped that maybe Sherlock would be kind this time. They were both wrong. Sherlock had spared them no mercy, calling out their lies only a split second after they had been said, and becoming increasing self-satisfied as he did so. It was strange, John thought as Lestrade haughtily packed away the cards, it was almost as though Sherlock needed the praise or disbelief of others in order to work. Would he be as infuriating if people acted like they weren't amazed with his skills? No, Sherlock would know that it was impossible for anyone to not be impressed. John pulled a book out of his bag and settled down to read. Opposite him, Lestrade had shoved his headphones into his ears and was fiddling with his phone whilst tapping the beat of the music with his right foot. Sherlock returned to gazing aimlessly out of the window, but he tired of it quickly, and so turned to stare at the people around them, deducing their jobs and life stories and telling them to John in a never-ending tirade of murmured information. Unable to stop Sherlock from talking, he reluctantly put his book away and allowed him to continue talking. It was going to be a long journey.

1:58pm, Paignton Train Station

Sherlock, John and Lestrade – or Greg, as John was now addressing him – exited the train station and paused to take in their surroundings. Beside them was a taxi rank, filled with normal cars with taxi stickers on them, quite unlike the distinctive black cabs that filled London's streets. Across the road was a convenience store and, next to that, the bus station. Sherlock looked around, distaste evident on his face. It was so quiet here, so few people compared to London, he thought. John, meanwhile, was more preoccupied with where they would be staying.

"Apparently there's a row of B&B's along the seafront," replied Lestrade, pulling a map out of his pocket.

"This place is hardly big enough to get lost in," Sherlock said. "Do you really need a map?"

Lestrade chose not to reply, instead beckoning them to follow him with a wave of his hand. John looked at Sherlock reproachfully as they followed him, but said nothing.

They walked along past the taxi rank, over the railway tracks and down a cramped two way road which was filled with tacky tourist shops and fish and chip 'restaurants'. Further down the road was a row of arcades; bright lights flashing and loud music playing. Sherlock was fascinated. John allowed him a few minutes to explore and create various methods of how best to play a certain game, before forcefully pulling him away by the sleeve of his coat.

Eventually they found their way to the seafront, suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of salt and seaweed, and the sound of the waves crashing onto the sand, and seagulls flying overhead. There was a row of multi-coloured hotels and B&B's facing the sea, and it took them a while to find one that still had the vacancies sign up. Standing outside the red and yellow façade of the 'The Commodore', John took one last look out towards the sea before heading into it. Lestrade approached the main desk and rang the bell. A few minutes later, a middle-aged man dressed in casual slacks came out.

"Hi, I wondered if you had three single rooms for a couple of nights?" Lestrade said.

The man pushed his glasses further up his nose as he checked the book. "You don't know how many nights you'll be staying for?"

Lestrade shook his head. "No, we're down here on police business and we don't know how long it will take."

"Well, I've got one single and one twin room free for another three weeks…"

Sherlock approached the front desk. "We'll take those rooms, thank you very much. John and I can have the twin room."