'Adele?'

'What?'

'Nothing.'

This had been going on for hours. Adele had been sitting reading ever since the argument with Sherlock. At some point, he must have relocated to the living room, where he and Adele sat in silence, Adele reading, and Sherlock being annoying.

Or at least, that was how Adele saw it.

Hammet's absence was becoming incredibly annoying. Adele had gotten as far as assuming that one of the blonde kids had been leaving the notes. But it still didn't explain why Hammet had suddenly gone silent. Maybe he was building up to something? If he was, Adele was pretty sure she was doomed, along with whoever he kidnapped this time. Kaylee of all people had solved the last one. And that had been easy, when Adele read it back. Although she was trying to refrain from doing so, considering that every time she did, she could hear, very faintly, Eliza's screaming in her ears. Considering that Sherlock still hadn't given her a proper reason for it not being Eliza, it was quite likely that Adele was right this time.

John had gone out to see Kaylee, and considering that it was now what Adele classed as time to eat something, she was extremely resentful of Kaylee at the moment. Adele didn't trust Sherlock to make anything edible, so it looked like she would either have to go out, which she wasn't allowed to do, or she would have to eat more cola bottles. They might have been her favourite food, but they were probably quite unhealthy. More than quite. Very.

But there wasn't much she could do about it. Every so often, Sherlock would look up and ask her name, to which Adele would glare at him and ask what he wanted, and to which he would reply nothing. The hours passed, but nothing happened, minus advancing through the book and occasionally thinking about how best to yell at John or Kaylee. Adele couldn't really decide which.

It must have been about eight when John finally returned. Sherlock barely even acknowledged John, although John was probably used to it by now. Adele glared at him for what was most likely an entire minute, before John turned around.

'Why are you looking at me like you want to kill me?'

Adele shrugged. 'I didn't know it looked like that. I just want you to know I'm annoyed at you.'

Sherlock chuckled slightly, but didn't speak. John frowned. 'Why?'

'Because there's no decent food here and he can't cook.' Adele nodded in Sherlock's direction on the word he.

'There's bread. You could make toast.'

'Me? Something might explode.' John shook his head, as though he was trying to rid himself of some sort of awful thought.

'Are you basically asking me to make you toast?'

'Yes. And then explain why you didn't tell me how long you would be.'

'I was only gone-'

'All day. Please?' Adele smiled at him. Either John would feel guilty, or he would be terrified. Whichever, there would be food. And that was a result.

It worked, because soon all Adele could hear was John trying to work his way around the kitchen. She could sort of understand why he went out now. At least he didn't have to brave what was a potential health hazard all day. Sherlock looked rather smug every time John complained, and Adele couldn't help feeling slightly pleased.

'Think of this as a punishment, John!' Adele called over the crashing. 'For leaving me here with him all day!'

At this Sherlock looked up, alarmed. Why? 'Am I that bad?'

'You can't cook and you keep talking about rubbish. Yes you are.' Sherlock rolled his eyes, and returned to writing. What was he doing? Adele made a mental note to steal the papers next time he left them somewhere.

John returned from the kitchen eventually, with food for both Adele, himself, and Sherlock. Like he would eat anything. Sherlock frowned at the plate that John held out in front of him. John muttered something about how eating was just as important as breathing, although it was cut off by Sherlock repeatedly saying the word boring.

'Was that the first word you ever said? Boring?' Adele ripped a piece of toast in half.

'No.'

'What was it?'

'I'm not telling you.'

'It was, wasn't it?'

'No.'

'You never tell me anything.'

'That's not true.'

'It is.'

John looked wary of conflict. He would probably change the subject in five, our, three, two-

'Adele, you got a letter.'

'What?' Adele never got letters. There wasn't exactly anyone to send them to her. Sherlock had also looked up in surprise. Who the hell would send her a letter? John threw an envelope over. Adele glanced at the front, but she didn't recognise the writing.

'Give it to me.' Sherlock held out his hand expectantly. Adele passed it over, but it only took a two second look for him to give it back. 'Don't recognise it.'

'Glad we can all agree on something. John, was this in your pocket all day?'

'Yes, I-'

'Open it.' Sherlock cut John off, eyes alight with excitement. 'This is the most interesting thing that's happened all day.'

Adele exchanged a look of complete confusion with John, but proceeded to open it anyway. There was something in the back of her mind telling her that it wouldn't be anything good.

Me again! I've had a day or two off, just to make sure I got everything right this time. But I'm back! Have you been enjoying my notes? Gretl was great with those, I must say. She got into your flat under your very nose! Even Sherly didn't notice! God, we're geniuses. But enough about me.

I know I said I'd either get that DI or landlady, but they would be boring, and I don't think either of us wants that! So I've skipped ahead a bit, and you'll hate me for this. But it's fun, which is what this is all about!

So I've got Eliza! Your little friend! I'm so cruel! But you'll get a challenge this time!

And remember: If you get any help, I'll shoot. I was feeling nice last time, but not now. I know, having to listen to your friend screaming isn't nice and blah blah, but it was nice for me to watch.

So do this on your own Adele. I mean it. You can have three days, starting from the hour you open this letter.

I'm watching.

Adele turned the paper over, where she found the riddle;

Five people of different nationalities live in a row of five houses of different colour. Each person prefers a different beverage, smokes a different brand of cigar and keeps a different kind of animal. Can you figure out who owns the fish?

The Brit lives in the Red house.

The Swede keeps dogs as pets.

The Dane drinks tea.

The Green house is on the left of the White house.

The owner of the Green house drinks coffee.

The person who smokes Pall Mall rears birds.

The owner of the Yellow house smokes Dunhill.

The man living in the centre house drinks milk.

The Norwegian lives in the first house.

The man who smokes Blends lives next to the man who keeps cats.

The man who keeps horses lives next to the man who smokes Dunhill.

The man who smokes Blue Master drinks beer.

The German smokes Prince.

The Norwegian lives next to the Blue house.

The man who smokes Blends has a neighbour who drinks water.

Adele stared at the paper for several seconds, not noticing anything but the words. She shut her eyes for several seconds, desperately hoping that this was all a bad dream. But when she opened them again, the paper was still in her hand.

'Adele? What is it?'

'Eliza.'

'But he said-'

'Read it.' Adele threw the first piece of paper at him. No one spoke for several seconds as Sherlock read the letter. How was she supposed to solve that? He'd given her clues, so it was obviously difficult.

And three days.

How?

'Adele-'

'No.'

'Listen to me-'

'No.'

'You need to stay –'

'No.'

'Adele, listen to me.'

'Why should I?!' Adele spun around, glaring at Sherlock. John was looking his feet, probably unsure of what to say or do. At this point, for no apparent reason, Adele was finding this incredibly annoying.

Sherlock took a deep breath. 'John, go and-'

'John stays out of this.' Adele snarled. This was for two reasons. One, John was annoying and would get in the way. Two, there was no point dragging more people into this. Maybe John would stay of Hammet's list if he didn't get involved.

Sherlock ignored her and carried on. 'John, go and get me a pen and paper. Adele,' He crouched down so as to be at her height. Was she really that short? Apparently so. 'You're not going to even think about working that riddle out now. You're tired, aren't you?'

So maybe that was true. Maybe getting up at three in the morning was a stupid idea. But still. Being tired didn't make the riddle any different. But she nodded anyway.

'Exactly. So you're going to go to sleep and look at it tomorrow.'

Adele scowled, as though it would cover up the fact that, in reality, she was close to tears. Before she knew it, Sherlock had pulled her into a hug, and she was crying. Actually crying. What was wrong with her? Why did she have to make friends?

'It's okay. Understand? Everything is fine.'