(( Okay, so I am having loads of fun writing this part of the story. That's all I'm saying. :D ))

Finally, a client.

It had been several weeks since Amy's last interaction with Rory and petty tiff with Sherlock. They had drawn a line under it and carried on as normal. To be honest, Sherlock's company was what Amy needed to keep her mind from thoughts of her marriage - he barely spoke of it.

A tall thin man name Alex Wright in jeans and a t-shirt had sat down opposite Sherlock and Amy in 221b. He looked really nervous, picking at his fingers, avoiding eye contact. He was the first client Sherlock had had come to him directly in a long while.

"I fink my friend is involved in somefing," the client finally said with his gaze constantly flicking between the two flatmates. He found the detective intimidating, the female less so, but her kind smile did nothing to ease his nerves.

"Can you narrow that down?" Sherlock asked expecting the young man to get straight to the point.

Alex shifted uncomfortably. "I fink he- might be involved in somefing big. Somefing...illegal."

"What makes you think that?"

Alex suddenly hesitated, then shook his head. "Nah, you know what? It don't matter. I shouldn't 'ave comes. You'll fink I'm mad." Although he got up to leave, Amy stopped him.

"Hey, it's alright. We won't think you're mad, will we, Sherlock?"

"That depends on what the problem is."

"No, we won't." There was firmness to her tone that made Sherlock mumble in agreement.

"Are you from Scotland?" asked Alex as he eased his body back into the armchair.

Smiling, she nodded. "I am."

"I like Scotland. It's a nice place."

"The very best."

"Oh, please," sighed the detective, rolling his eyes. "Yes, lovely. Can we get back to the matter in hand?"

Alex contemplated briefly about what he was going to say, causing Sherlock to grow ever more impatient by the second. "My friend i-is dead."

Sherlock frowned. "You think your friend is involved in something illegal because they're dead?" It almost sounded as if he was mocking the man.

"No- yes- N- I don't know."

"Please don't waste my time."

"Sherlock!" Amy scolded.

"But, listen," Alex pressed on, "my friend died four days ago - found outside a bettin' shop Monday morning 'e was. By a passer-by. The cops know. The fing is, I saw 'im."

"What do you mean you saw him?" Amy asked.

"I mean, I saw 'im. After 'e was found dead. Yesterday. I saw 'im walkin' out of a shop in Piccadilly."

"But you said he died..."

"Exactly! I fought it was just me. My mind playin' tricks on me. I fought I was dreamin' it. But I definitely saw 'im, and my girlfriend said she's seen 'im, too. Outside Harrods last night. 'Ow can 'e be 'round if 'e'd been found dead? I've tried to contact 'im but 'e don't answer. It's like- like 'e's avoiding me or somefing. 'Is family believe 'e's dead. They won't believe me when I tell 'em what I saw; what Julie saw. Which is why I fink 'e's involved in somefing illegal - I mean, you 'ear about it, don't you? People fakin' their deaths to get out of somefing, make someone believe they've popped their clogs so they'll leave 'em alone, or to protect someone."

Amy shifted on her chair uneasily at the subject, knowing all about Sherlock faking his death. Yet when she glanced over at him he didn't appear at all phased. Although, she realised how good he was at hiding what he might really be feeling.

"Interesting," mused Sherlock.

"I-it is?"

"Did you ever notice your friend acting suspiciously when you were with him?"

"No."

"Nothing at all."

"Not that I can remember. 'E's always been quite 'onest about fings. At least, I fink 'e was. Please, Mr 'Olmes, find out what's goin' on? I don't understand any of this at all." Alex was desperate to know what was going on, they could see that. The concern and confusion masked the rest of his face.

"What is his name?"

"Joe. Joe Vidal."

When Alex Wright left, both Sherlock and Amy stood up. "Do you really think this Joe Vidal faked his death?" she asked her flatmate with an eyebrow raised.

"There's only one way to find that out."

They had checked with the police. They confirmed Joe Vidal's death. His body was still in the morgue.

"He's definitely dead then," muttered Amy as she and Sherlock loomed over a lifeless body.

"Evidently. So why does Alex Wright seem to think he saw him walking through town yesterday?"

Amy was going to say that maybe Joe had a twin, but that was stupid. It wasn't in his records and Alex would have known if Joe had a twin or not. She could say it for laughs, but she didn't feel as if Sherlock was up for a laugh. A morgue wasn't really an appropriate place for jokes anyway.

A pretty-looking Molly stepped forward. Looking over files, she tugged down on her bottom lip. "Maybe his friend believes in, you know, the supernatural? Maybe they think they saw his ghost..."

"Probably," responded Sherlock, though he knew that was complete drivel, "or maybe he's having hallucinations. Grief can do that to people."

"And what about his girlfriend?" Amy added.

"Well, if she knew Joe as well as Alex did then she is bound to miss him, too. People can't quite let go of memories, objects, and other people. Especially after death. Sometimes you see things that aren't really there. The imagination runs wild and makes you believe anything and everything it wants you to. Or what you want. Maybe they saw Joe because that's what they want. Instead of the truth they want to believe that he's still alive so in their mind he still is. It's a common thing. Sentiment. Grief."

"That's it?"

"Yes. I think so..."

"But..?"

"Nothing."