They took two cabs; John and Hamish in one, Sherlock and Diana in the other. It was funny, Sherlock thought, how much like a family the four of them looked. Diana had Sherlock's black hair but violet eyes, and Sherlock's cleverness, but was clearly friendly- most of the time- like John. Hamish had black hair and blue eyes and sharp cheekbones but the shape of his face was very different from Sherlock's and his eyes just a bit brighter blue. Still, Hamish and Diana looked as though they could easily be siblings and John and Sherlock (well, Sherlock at least) looked like Diana and Hamish's parents.

The cab containing Sherlock and Diana arrived at the crime scene first. They got out and made for the entry but were stopped by Lestrade.

"Who's this?" he asked, gesturing to Diana. "You know I can't just let her in."

Sherlock opened his mouth to respond, but was cut short by Diana, who stepped forward, stuck out her hand, and said, "Diana Holmes."

Lestrade blinked twice and looked at the two of them for a moment before shaking Diana's hand. He looked at Sherlock. "You have a daughter?"

"Yes, and, as of six days ago, a son. Now if you'll excuse me," Sherlock replied calmly, stepping past the detective inspector. "John's on his way!" he called behind him.

Diana followed. They knelt beside the body. "What would you say, Diana?" Sherlock asked, wanting to get a better sense of her deduction skills.

"Hmm. I would say... He's been running for a while, maybe from the killers, maybe from someone else. He was cornered here and shot in the head. But-" she stood up and looked around, "whoever killed him was hired to do so, judging by the angle of the shot, so we're dealing with a higher power and something more than a crime of passion or a feud or some such. He was clearly still on the move, seeing as he had his things with him."

"Good. I would add that he was a business man but of little importance, so he must've had information. He worked at a bank- oh. That would explain how he got this information. So now we know we're looking at something to do with a bank."

John and Hamish came in. "What've you found?" John asked.

Sherlock quickly explained what they had deduced, then asked, "What do you see, doctor?"

John said, "The bullet was well-placed to go straight through his brain, and the bullet passed all the way through, so this is a professional job." Sherlock nodded.

"... Dad?" It was Hamish. "I'm not good at this sort of thing, but there's something..."

"What is it?" Sherlock looked up.

"He didn't play violin."

"Obviously, so?"

"So what's the violin case for?"

They all looked around. Sitting there, abandoned, with the rest of the dead man's things, was a violin case. John inched toward it carefully, thinking, as they all were, about the possibility that it contained a bomb, poisonous gas, a booby trap, etc., etc.

He was reaching his hand out toward the clasp just as a voice said, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

It was Anderson. Sherlock sighed. "Just cause Lestrade's given you permission to look at the body doesn't mean you can go rifling through the things," Anderson continued.

"Piss off, Anderson," Sherlock said.