The bar was closed when they arrived.

"Follow me," Mary said and she walked around to the side door. She knocked and a woman with long red hair answered. She looked at the three of them, and then she looked down the street. Pop music spilled out of the warm room behind her. There was a little blond boy of about three or four peeking out around her legs.

"Um... I'm sorry but the manager won't be here for an hour, so if you have business you'll have to come back. "

"Oh what an adorable little boy," Mary said.

The boy pulled on his mother's skirt. He had a plastic truck in his hand. "Mommy, can I play on the stage again."

"Be Quiet, Scott."

Mary squatted down on her heels. "Oh, Scott is your name is it? Nice to meet you Scott. My name is Mary" The boy looked at her and then hid behind his mother's skirt.

"Like I said before, the manager..."

"We're not here for the manager. We came to talk to one of the dancers." Sherlock said.

"Mama! Can I ?"

Mary reached out then. "Nice truck you have there, can I play with it?"

The boy looked up at his mother and then handed Mary the truck. She ran it through the air and went "Vroom, vroom."

The woman looked down at them and then said, "Come in. There's a draught."

Mary rose to her feet and reached out. Little Scott took her hand and they walked in together. Lestrade and Sherlock followed. The woman closed the door.

"Now, what is it you want?" she said with her arms folded.

"Scott wants to show me the stage. Is that alright?"

The woman stared at her for a moment and then nodded. The little boy smiled and ran off with Mary behind him holding the toy truck.

Sherlock stared around the room taking it all in. He walked into the dressing area. There were costumes hanging from hooks and a mirrored wall with make up tables in front of them. He walked over to one and looked at a set of photographs stuck to the mirror. He touched one with his finger. "Can you tell me about this woman. She sits here doesn't she?"

The redhead looked at the two men with suspicion. "Look, this is a shared dressing room. We all sit everywhere. Who are you and what do you want?"

Sherlock turned to Lestrade who sighed and then pulled out his badge. The woman read it and then stood straighter. "What is it? Is Phoebe in trouble? Listen, she's a good girl really. A good dancer. She wouldn't get involved in anything bad."

"Phoebe did you say? Wait, I remember a Phoebe...what is her full name?"

"Phoebe Banks."

Sherlock smiled. "We've met her before, Lestrade."

Lestrade looked at the photograph of a tall thin brunette in a very small bikini. "I think that I'd have remembered meeting her," he said.

"Obviously not. Phoebe Banks was going to be the last victim of the Bluebeard killer. You remember, the yacht. He set in on fire."

"Oh that case. You and John jumped onto a burning boat like the idiots that you are. You should have waited for the fire department to get there."

"The evidence was on board. And I believe it was John who carried Phoebe Banks off of the burning boat to safety. I understand now. It all makes sense."

"What makes sense?"

"Why she would kiss him."

"Kiss who? Sherlock, what are you talking about?"

The door opened then and two women walked in including Phoebe Banks. The redheaded woman stopped her and whispered, "Phoebe, this man is from the police."

Phoebe breathed in a sigh and then she walked toward them smiling. "Sherlock Holmes. So glad to meet you again. You probably don't remember me."

"Phoebe Banks. Your last boyfriend got life imprisonment. I hope that you are doing better now, but then, I see that you are a student now. Nursing is it? Perhaps you were inspired by the example of John Watson. Where is he by the way?"

Phoebe bit her lip and then reached out for Sherlock's hand, but he held both of his gloved hands folded behind his back. She dropped hers. "Thank you for finding me Mr Holmes. You and John Watson saved my life."

Sherlock waved the praise away. "It was nothing to do with you. It was Nicholas Parker that I was after. You should thank John, but then again, I suppose that you already did."

Mary walked in holding the hand of the little boy. She froze when she saw the woman whom she recognized despite the fact that she was completely dressed this time.

"Mary, meet Phoebe Banks. John saved her life."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and then Phoebe's walked over and took Mary's hand. She looked at her finger and then smiled. "I knew it. You're Mrs Watson aren't you. Harry told me that John was married. You are a lucky woman."

The boy pulled out of Mary's hand then. "I'm going to find Mommy," he said before running off.

Lestrade looked at women and then at Sherlock before walking over to Mary. He took her by the shoulders. "Mary, come and sit down. Miss Banks, do you have a minute to talk to us about John Watson?"

"Sure."

In the other room the music blared as the dancers set up the stage. The four of them sat in the corner next to a row of costumes. Lestrade pushed away a feather boa that tickled his neck. "Please Miss Banks," he said. "Tell us about when you last saw John Watson."

"Why, has he been hurt?" she asked concerned.

"No, not as far as we know," Mary said. "We've just...lost track of him. I want to find him."

Phoebe looked puzzled. Well, he seemed fine when I saw him this morning.

"He was here last night?"

"Yes. He stayed at my place."

Sherlock's face was a mask. Mary looked stricken. Phoebe looked at her and then shook her head. "Oh no, not like that. Not that I'd have minded to be honest. I just bumped into him after I got off work and he asked if I knew of a cheap place to stay, so I suggested my place. He was a perfect gentleman."

Sherlock rose to his feet. "Where is he now?"

"Well, I don't know. At breakfast he met some men in uniform. He said that they were old Army friends of his. They drove off together."

"Drove off where?"

"I don't know. One of them mentioned going back to the base."

Mary folded her hands and sat back. Sherlock wrinkled his brow. "Do you remember what kind of vehicle it was? Did you get the registration number?"

Phoebe shook her head. There was the sound of yelling, and Little Scott ran into the room. He hugged Mary's knees. He was followed by his mother who stood in front of him arms outstretched. A short man in a black checkered coat came in then, "I told you. No kids! This is an adults only establishment."

"I'll keep him back stage. No one will see him."

"No they won't because you're fired."

"But I need this job," she said leaning toward him. He raised his hand to her but another hand caught his wrist before it struck. He turned to see Sherlock's stern face looking down on him.

"Please refrain from attempting to strike this woman."

The man turned toward Sherlock and then back to the woman. "Who are these people?"

"People who it would be in your best interest not to cross," Sherlock said.

The man pulled his hand out of Sherlock's grasp. "Get out, get out all of you! And you too Janet. I want you out of here in two minutes or I'm calling the police on you."

"I think that very unlikely," Sherlock said. "Because if the police were to come, I would show them the twenty-nine violations of Environmental Health Licensing Regulations that I've noticed since walking into this place. I could also tell them about your attempted assault of one of your workers, and your ignoring of required workplace regulations about proper notice, but you've found ways around the law before. The owner is well connected, and this place makes money for him. You have good dancers, and a good location - near enough the docks to get the working class, but close enough to the city to get the occasional big spenders. - You take in quite a lot of money here, don't you? Quite a lot, but you don't share it with the dancers. They barely get enough to feed themselves which suits you because it keeps them thin. But what you don't tell anyone is that you keep some of the profits for yourself. Profits that should be going to the owner. He might think differently about protecting you from these pesky regulations if he found out how often you raid the till."

"Hey, what are you talking about? Are you trying to threaten me?"

"No, I am succeeding at threatening you."

"What.. you don't know anything. You don't have evidence of anything."

"That's a pretty fancy watch you have there, and a pretty fancy pair of shoes. If it wasn't for your appalling lack of style, you might be able to pull off the look, but you fail at that just as you fail at effective management."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I have faced far worse than a two-bit hustler like you. I've faced worse than the part-time criminal who owns this bar and half of the similar businesses in this city. I know what he will do when I tell him that you are stealing from him, and I have a pretty good idea where I would find your body afterwards, so I suggest that if you want to live to see New Year's day, you will do what I say."

The man stared up at him, his eyes frozen with fear. "What ...what do you want me to do?"

"You will rehire Janet here and make her your assistant manager. You will pay her a sufficient wage to afford daycare, and give all of your workers a raise and a Christmas bonus while you're at it, then get someone working on those licensing violations before the year is out, or someone other than Father Christmas will come knocking at your door. Do you understand me?"

Sherlock leaned over the man who leaned back. "Janet, the kid can stay... and see me later about that new job." Then the man in the checkered coat turned and fled.

Phoebe ran over to Janet and held her hands before jumping up and down. The other girls came in then, and Phoebe started explaining what had happened. Everyone shrieked. Sherlock walked back to the corner wincing. Lestrade was staring at him with an amused look on his face. He turned as he felt Mary touch his arm. "That was a very nice thing that you did for them," she said.

"I didn't do it for them. I dislike small-minded people. He interrupted a very important interrogation. I suppose that they'll be at this for hours now. The trail will be cold again before they calm down enough to make coherent conversation."

Janet walked out followed by the other girls. Sherlock sighed heavily and sat down looking bored. When they returned, Janet was smiling. " He made me assistant manager, but he said that I better make sure that everything from now on goes off without a hitch, so hurry up and get dressed for the show!"

The girls rushed into the room, and started removing their clothes. Sherlock rose to his feet, and quickly strode out from the room. Lestrade followed at a more leisurely pace. Mary bent down and picked up Scott before following them out.