The evening passed easily enough: the food was excellent, the service from the waitresses friendly, and the company couldn't have been better. Even Sherlock, under the guise of acting like a normal person, seemed to enjoy himself. By half past 9, they had eaten their starters and mains and were the only table left in the restaurant. They were currently looking at the large dessert board propped up against the table opposite. There was plenty of choice, and though John was very nearly full to bursting, his usually supressed sweet tooth couldn't resist a dessert.

"I'm not sure if I can manage a whole one," he said, not really to anyone in particular.

"I'll share one with you," offered Sherlock, trapping John's leg with his own once again.

John nodded his agreement, and they quickly decided on what they wanted. Once more, the young waitress hurried off with their orders and Lestrade leant forwards. "When are you planning on causing this distraction, Sherlock?"

"Soon," he assured them. "Rebecca, I'm going to need you to drop a glass or something, and make sure that it shatters. I imagine that the woman who showed us in is the boss, and she probably won't want any of the girls cleaning up broken glass for health and safety reasons. It helps that two of the waitresses have already been sent home, of course. I'll need the rest of you to keep her talking whilst I have a look around." His voice was a low stream of quiet words. "I'll be just inside the door to the loos before you do it, so she won't notice me slip off."

"It'll be a bit suspicious if you come back from the wrong direction though, won't it?" John spoke equally as quietly.

"I'll pretend that I had to get something out of my coat pocket, as it's hung over by the door anyway. It's not like there'll be anyone else around to notice," replied Sherlock.

"I hope this works," said Rebecca anxiously, obviously doubting Sherlock's methods.

Sherlock' reply was confident, with a hint of arrogance. "Oh it will, trust me."

The waitress reappeared, carefully holding one plate in each hand and balancing the other on her forearm. She placed John and Sherlock's steaming apple pie between them, gave Rebecca her raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake, and handed Lestrade his treacle tart. With a final word of "Enjoy," she left them to it.

John had to admit that he did feel slightly strange sharing food with Sherlock, perhaps because he thought it was a very 'couple-y' sort of thing to do, or perhaps because it was just Sherlock. The other man, however, took absolutely no notice of John's sudden awkwardness, or the perplexed stares they were drawing from Lestrade and Rebecca.

When they were finished, they stacked their plates to make it easier for the waitress to clear them away, and waited for the right moment to carry out their plan. They waited until the one remaining waitress had disappeared between the partition, along with the woman who they presumed to be the boss. Sherlock stood up, excusing himself to go to the loos and Rebecca listened intently for the sound of the door to the loos opening before she dropped her glass onto the wooden floor, ensuring that it shattered immediately into tiny shards.

"Oh God!" she exclaimed in fake shock, and the boss rushed out. "I'm so, so sorry," Rebecca apologised profusely. "It just slipped right out of my hand."

"It's not a problem, don't worry about it." The unnatural smile was back, John observed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sherlock slip quietly through the door which would lead him towards the cash desk.

"Karen, get me the dustpan and brush from behind the bar, would you?"

The waitress – Karen – obliged and swiftly fetched it for her. "Here you go, Jackie," she said.

While the smashed glass was being cleared away, Sherlock had successfully gotten behind the cash desk and picked the lock on the cupboard there. The cupboard contained mostly money and wage packets, but there was also a stack of record books there. Sherlock crouched down behind the desk, taking the diary with him, and scanned through all of the books, taking photos on his phone of anything he deemed to be important.

Sensing that the commotion from the restaurant had significantly quietened down, he quickly replaced everything and got to where his coat was hanging just seconds before Jackie turned around and saw him. Returning to the table, he said, "Thought I'd better check my phone for messages." This seemed to pacify Jackie, and she stepped back to allow Sherlock to sit down again. John looked up at him questioningly, but he just shook his head minutely.

"Could we get some coffee, please?" Lestrade asked as a distraction.

"Of course," replied Jackie. "Four regular coffees?"

They all agreed, Sherlock shoved his phone into his pocket, and normal conversation resumed.

At half past ten they left the restaurant, with Sherlock satisfied that he had all the proof that he needed. They walked far away enough from the restaurant to not be seen from the windows and then huddled together while Sherlock shared his information.

"I found a log of all the money they're earning, and to be perfectly honest, it did seem a bit extortionate. So I checked the diary on the desk, and, according to that, the amount of customers that they've been getting correlates to their income, but some of the entries are non-specific; i.e. they're not real customers. Also, if they really were getting the amount of customers they say they are, the restaurant would have to be full every single night, which as we've seen, is unlikely." Sherlock passed his phone to Rebecca so she could look at the photographs he had taken.

"Now," he continued. "I think it's unlikely that they're money laundering by themselves, so we need to look for a relative or a close friend in Italy that is well known by the police there." He paused. "No, we obviously can't do anything tonight so I suggest that we all get some rest and then continue with this tomorrow."

"I'll need more evidence before I can sanction an arrest, you realise," Rebecca said, chewing nervously on her lower lip.

Sherlock nodded. "Of course. We'll get that for you."

"9 o'clock again tomorrow?" Lestrade said, pulling out his phone to set an alarm.

"Sounds good to me. See you tomorrow." Rebecca bade them good night, and they went their separate ways.