They returned to 221B Baker street so that Sherlock could change, and then Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a text.
[Need your help - SH]
The reply came rapidly.
[Expecting your call, meet me at the office. MH]
Sherlock was subdued and quiet on the taxi ride there, nervously tapping his foot with a sullen expression on his face. Mary kept glancing over at him clutching her purse, the letter still inside.
They walked up to a government building. It was after hours and the doors were locked, but a woman in a tasteful suit opened the door for them, led them into the elevator and up to Mycroft's office.
The room was all brown with a large bookshelf and red curtains draped beside government casement windows. Mycroft sat behind a large desk. The walls were sparsely decorated except for a portrait of the queen on the wall behind him. There were two phones. Mary couldn't help wondering if the red phone really did call the prime minister. Mycroft rose from his desk and smiled at Mary. He was wearing a grey three piece suit.
"Ah, Mrs Watson, always a pleasure," he said motioning to the chairs in front of him. "Please have a seat."
His lip curled slightly as he looked down his nose at Sherlock. "I knew that I'd be hearing from you soon, although I expected it a little earlier. Then again you have been busy. You've been taking part in some...interesting amusements lately. Excuse me for saying so brother, but red is not your color."
Sherlock sneered. "Good evening Mycroft. I assume you know why we've come."
"Of course. John has... how would you say it in Australia, Mrs Watson? Gone walkabout?"
Sherlock and Mary glanced at each other. Mycroft opened a piece of furniture topped by a lamp and pulled out a flatscreen computer pad. It looked strange in his conservatively styled office. He pushed aside his desk lamp and touched the screen in a practiced manner until it separated into four images. Some of the images were a bit choppy.
"This is CCTV data from the night of the party," Mycroft said. Sherlock and Mary leaned forward to see better. Two of the cameras showed different views of a man sitting on a park bench.
"Is that John?" Mary asked.
"Yes," Mycroft said. "He left the party and walked around the area. Then he spent a considerable amount of time in the park, before taking the subway here." Mycroft pushed another button and the scene changed to a city street. John was walking up out of the tube station, pulling his coat around him, the wind blowing tiny droplets of frozen rain into his face. Sherlock and Mycroft were focused on the images, but Mary stared at Mycroft.
"Do you mean to say that John is under surveillance all of the time?"
"Of course. As a close associate of my brother, I like to keep tabs on him. It has proven valuable once or twice."
"So, am I under surveillance as well?" Mary asked nervously.
"No. No need. You have very regular habits. You only go to work, the bank, and the grocery store, with the occasional visit to the Goldilocks beauty parlor. It's not worth the expense to have you watched, but John. John can at times be very...surprising."
"So this is how you get your kicks by watching John?" Sherlock commented knavishly.
"Hardly, he's only one of many people that we keep an eye on," Mycroft said crossing his arms as he leaned against the desk.
"Of course," Sherlock said with a mocking smile, "Then where did he go?"
"Unfortunately, after this image we lost him."
"I thought that your coverage was complete," Mary said.
"We try to make it so, but there are occasional maintenance problems. The storm frosted the glass on the camera, however, he was moving in a determined manner and we were able to localize his destination to this street." Mycroft pulled a piece of note paper out of his desk drawer and slid it across the desk. Sherlock took the paper and read it, then he passed it to Mary.
"That's Harry's street," Mary said. She pulled out her phone, turning away as she dialed.
"There is a nightclub. We are certain that John has been there, sometime yesterday, or the day before."
"What address?"
Sherlock handed him the card that Brandywine had given him, and Mycroft pulled the pad toward him and began to type. "Time?"
"Sometime after that view that you showed us."
"Harry's not answering," Mary said. "Do you suppose that she could have gone with him?"
"I didn't think that John was very close to his sister," Sherlock remarked.
Mycroft pushed the tablet back onto the desk, adjusting the screen to show the door of Brandywine's. He pushed a button and a succession of images moved quickly across the screen. Sherlock focused on the people. "Stop!" Sherlock said, "there." The camera froze on an image of John standing before the door.
"That's Harry with him," Mary said.
"So he went in. Where did he go afterward?"
Mycroft made the screen scroll ahead quickly. Several people entered and exited. Sherlock reached out and stopped the screen. Three people were leaving together. They walked to the corner. Harry and the girl peeled off and went in one direction, while John continued down the street alone. He passed under a bridge, and they switched to another camera but he never came out. They scrolled ahead, minutes, hours later and into the next day, but he had just vanished. "It seems that Dr Watson has ... to hazard an expression, 'given us the slip'. See what I mean? He is surprising," Mycroft said with a smile.
"Go back again," Sherlock said, and Mycroft rewound. John walked backwards out of the tunnel, met up with Harry and the woman and they walked back to the door. Then he froze the image. John's face was turned away as was Harry's. The third woman stood in front blocking them from the camera.
"That's not John," Mary said.
Sherlock turned toward her, " What do you mean? That's his coat. I'm sure of it. He got that tear jumping over a railing while we chased down an arsonist. He kept going on about it."
Mary shook her head, "That may be his coat, but that's not him."
Sherlock turned back to the image and focused his attention on the screen, then he sighed. "His watch," he said.
"Yes. He bought that with his discharge money. He never goes anywhere without it."
"So, someone in the bar, Brandywine most likely, helped him escape, and these people were just there to lead us astray," Sherlock said.
"This Brandywine person," Mycroft began, "perhaps she could be persuaded?"
"She's already told us no. Go back a bit will you?"
Mycroft pushed the button. The real John, Harry, and another woman stood in front of the door. The woman turned to look over her shoulder. He stopped the picture. The woman had hair that was dyed three different colors.
"Who is that?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know," Mary said.
"I will find out," Mycroft asserted.