[Sherlock]

"He's in there," Inspector Dimmock gestured to the door, which I jogged over to. He rolled his eyes slightly at my eagerness, but I ignored him. This was far too good an opportunity, and I was not going to waste a second of it.

As I entered the room, my eyes scanned for every detail that I could gain which would help in the investigation. The room itself was small and well-lit, with an incredibly obvious two-way mirror that people on the other side could watch us from. It didn't really accomplish much, as anyone who'd ever seen an action film knew what it was. My gaze was caught by the man sat in front of me, who seemed very much to be the most stereotypical criminal I'd ever seen. He was well built but not overly tall, perhaps 5"11, and wore a black jacket and black jeans. The only thing missing was the black balaclava to match.

There was another chair across from him which I used, before leaning forward and analysing him . It was rather obvious he'd been involved, the smell of smoke wafting to me from his jacket could tell me as much. Not married, but used to be. Possibly three kids who no longer live with him, and a small dog that does. What surprised me was the look on his face when I'd entered the room. He'd looked terrified as soon as he'd seen me, as though he'd recognised me. I was certain I'd never seen his face before, but it was obvious he knew of me. It didn't look like he'd been that anxious about any of the Yard officer when they'd attempted to talk to him. I'd been told by Dimmock that they hadn't been able to get any information out of him whatsoever other than that he was involved. They wanted me to find out his name and motives, but I had other questions in mind that I deemed more important.

"Your boss. Who is he?" I growled. There was no time for niceties and patience when it came to getting information. The man flinched slightly under the intensity of my gaze, but said nothing.

"Tell me!" I shouted, but there was still no response, other than the fact the man's hands began to tremble slightly. I put my face up against his in what I hoped was an intimidating manner, but I only succeeded in catching a whiff of his foul breath. I turned away, desperately trying to think of another tactic, when he spoke.

"I can't tell you anything. I would if I could, as I hate what I've been doing for him, but it's not just my life at stake anymore..." I did not miss the mournful expression on his face when he said that, and suddenly his silence made sense.

"He's threatening your family," I said, and he nodded. I managed to let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding, and sat back against my chair thoughtfully. "You recognised me, when I walked in." I tried a different tactic, and this one didn't appear to be his favourite, either.

"Well, bugger," he said, and my hopes dropped. "I was told that you were good but I didn't believe him 'til now... Well, you already know pretty much what I'm going to say then, but I'll say it anyway for your friends' benefits." He gestured to the two-way mirror behind us, and I nearly smirked as I imagined Dimmock's face.

Sighing, he continued, "My boss told me that you knew him, showed me a picture of you an' told me not to answer any questions you asked, but that you'd probably figure out it was him anyways. Said I'd suffer for it if I did." This probably shouldn't have shocked me as much as it did, but knowing John gave this man information on me and told him not to talk to me was saddening, to say the least. What was worse, he was using this man's family against him to ensure he didn't talk.

I couldn't think of anything more to say, and I didn't want to get the man in trouble by forcing him to tell me anything, so I thanked him and got up to leave. Might as well let one of the Yard officers have their go. I was annoyed that I was no closer to finding my John, or helping him on the road to recovery, but I was sure it wouldn't be long until my next opportunity.

"Wait!" The man suddenly cried, and I stopped, uncertain of what it was he wanted from me. "Um, He said to tell you that he wants to organise a meeting soon, and that he'll be in touch." My heart leapt at the prospect of such a meeting, and I felt a small smile tug at the corners of my lips. Finally! I was getting somewhere. I nodded my thanks to the man and swept out of the room in a similar fashion to that of when I'd arrived, already organising ideas in my head.

No doubt John would either be trying to play a game with me, or was going to tell me to back off and leave him to his new work. I had to admit, a game would be interesting, just to see how much my death had affected him, but it really wouldn't help either of us in the long run. I began to fantasise about the possibility of him being already on the mend and trying to rekindle our friendship, but I knew that was a bit too much to hope for.

Just then, I heard my phone beep, signalling a text message. I felt a bit disappointed that John had not found a more extravagant way to send me a message, but I soon realised it didn't really make that much of a difference. It was the message itself that was important.

The message read:

If convenient, please attend a meeting in the Lansborough Hotel dining room at 11am. Give your name at the desk and wear something suitable, for it is a rather luxurious hotel. I'll be seeing you. -JW

I felt excited, but soon realised with horror that it meant I would have to ask Mycroft for money to buy suitable clothing. My depressing thoughts were interrupted by another alert from my phone, and I regarded the new message curiously.

If inconvenient, come all the same. -JW

I grinned. It seemed I had rubbed off on him a bit.

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