Marylebone Farmers' Market puts the 'Marylebone Village' on the map as a destination for great food. On Sundays, the market site usually has between 30 and 40 stalls and is heaving with locals doing their weekly shopping, as well as food enthusiasts from all over the capital.

This particular Sunday sees Molly Hooper and Mary Watson wandering through the rustic `artisan` brioches; truckles of redolent cheeses and slices of spanakopita.

"Thyme-scented peaches, Molly?" Mary holds aloft an improbably priced, yet tiny, jar of floating fruit in a slightly greying liquid.

"Ooh, no. Reminds me of Mr. Archibold`s impossibly huge gallstones."

Mary carefully replaces the peaches with a dazzling smile to the stallholder. She likes to watch people when they don't know she`s watching them. She`s doing it right now, with Molly Hooper.

She watches and she considers what she knows about Molly.

Molly Hooper likes…

Buying fruit in even numbers. Woe betide the fifth or seventh apple – thou shall not pass (into the bag)

Green tinged roses (or miniature cabbages, as Sherlock calls them)

Mary`s jokes – the ruder, the better

Chubby ginger cats (RIP Toby)

Her beautiful (but slightly sinister) Leica Autopsy knife set (a gift from – well, who do you think?)

Brightly coloured flower heads, frozen into ice cubes

Tom Ford`s Tobacco Vanille cologne

Chicken and Mushroom pot noodles (without the soya sauce sachet – a purist)

Her son`s dimpled cheeks

When Sherlock Holmes really looks at her…

And

Cornish pasties – it seems…

Molly and Mary have arrived at a beautifully be-decked pasty stall, whimsically called - `The Life of Pie`. Charming bunting; gingham table cloths, artfully cascading from up-turned cornucopia's, overflowing with pasties. Molly is being charmed by a suitably rustic looking bearded gentleman, dressed in a tartan shirt and rough tweeds. He has startlingly blue eyes.

"…your golden pastry, filled with the finest swede and potato and succulent, slow-cooked beef mince…"

Mary, holding up her free hand: "Sold! I`ll take four. John`s working night shift at the lab all week. I`m not even going to pretend to cook."

Molly takes four for Baker Street and one for Mike Stamford, who has fallen, quite spectacularly, off the Atkin`s Diet Wagon.

The grateful pie man pushes a leaflet on them.

"Here, my lovelies; like and share our Facebook page and you could win an all-expenses paid holiday break on our beautiful Cornish coast."

Mary sighs. "John is obsessed with Facebook enough as it is…`19 Things that happen when you`re drunk – as seen by your pets`…"

Molly giggles. "I think his Master`s must be stressing him out. His Candy Crush levels are outclassing Sherlock`s"

"Sherlock Holmes plays Candy Crush Saga? You have to be kidding me?"

Molly pockets the competition leaflet, smiling.

"And so does Mycroft."

x

Sherlock Holmes is pacing around Skylab. His lab coat is flapping around his (much more) gangly frame. His hands are agitated (SO desperate for a cigarette) and his eyes are crackling with a latent heat. John, adding saline solution to several distillations, has seen it all before. The Game –

"It`s ON! I know who supplied the drugs!" His hands slam down on the granite, narrowly missing a sizeable part of John`s research project for module B. For about the fifteenth time, John considers the temporary closure of Bart`s post-grad. research lab a very unnecessary evil.

"Jose Hermano – he is the drugs lord in charge of `Angel`s Wings` and he is on borrowed time. As we speak, a covert SWAT team is on its way to a small office building in downtown Parque Barrio to take him in."

John is astounded at this sudden turn of events. He really believed that Leo Sterndale had lost all chance of being with his beloved Brenda again. Perhaps –

"This morning, I went to see Brenda Mortimer." Confirms Sherlock Holmes.

Three hours earlier…

Brenda looks paler, thinner – darker, somehow? Curled up on a grim, orange, plastic chair in a grimmer, scuffed interview room, which smells of pine disinfectant and – despair.

She is dressed in prison clothing and her wild red hair is now tamed by a plastic band. It seems faded. She seems faded.

Sherlock Holmes sits across from this shadow of the girl he has seen but seven days previously. His prime observational skills have missed nothing of her physical plight. Her emotional plight was now less of a mystery than it once could have been. Although love and loss are fairly new to Sherlock Holmes, he is a very quick learner. His Mind Palace locates a way in. Sherlock leans forward and touches Brenda on the shoulder. Gently, says the touch. I understand. I am here to help you. I want your trust.

"Miss Mortimer – "

Those dazzling eyes, now a sludge of khaki. Dimmed. Lost of hope. She looks at him and sees his strength of purpose – and a glimmer of…empathy. Molly will be so proud.

"I can`t be here, Mr. Holmes. It will end me. I fear for my Leo – I can`t let him see me and he is devastated – "

Sherlock holds up a hand. He needs her to keep looking at him. And to relax…

"You HYPNOTISED her?! You can do this now?" Back in the lab, John is clearly stunned.

"I watched a video on You Tube; read a book. Took me about ninety minutes. Simple, auto-suggestive techniques. The only question is, why haven`t I done it before?"

"God!" Many scenarios are running through John Watson`s mind. "How the hell do I know you haven`t?!"

"In general, convert hypnosis is a form of conversation. One person performs hypnosis techniques on the other part without his/her knowledge. And the other's emotion and sub consciousness are influenced by the performer."

By the light of the 40 watt bulb in the interview room, Sherlock continues to look into the green eyes of Brenda Mortimer and gently takes her limp hand. She does not resist. If Sally Donovan finds this part of `the Freak Show`, she doesn`t react; merely watches from the doorway.

"Look at me, Miss Mortimer, and continue to look until I tell you to do something." Her red-rimmed eyes do not move from his face.

"I am going to give you instructions and you are going to guide my energy by pushing down on my hand. I am going to count to three."

Sherlock feels an infinitesimal tightening on his hand.

"1 – 2 – 3 … push, push, push. Gently, gently," his voice is so soft and low that Sally has to give herself a little shake to stand up straighter.

"Now, push a little harder…firmer…there - push hard on my hand, Miss Mortimer…" Like dark, rich chocolate, rolling over the back of a golden spoon; dripping into soft pools of dark molasses – Lordy! Sally Donovan takes to a grim, orange plastic chair and decides she may need back-up. Or a lie down.

Sherlock continues caressing Brenda`s hand and, with his left, he shades her eyes and closes them, in one deft move.

"You must keep pressing my hand if you want to sleep. If you are tired and need to lie down; deep in your soft, calm bed…"

By now, Lestrade has silently joined the strange tableaux and finds himself slightly unnerved by the whole thing, particularly the very sudden departure of Sergeant Donovan.

Brenda Mortimer presses down once more, and Sherlock knows he has her.

"Sleep."

Turning triumphantly to Lestrade (?) he barely registers the Detective Inspector`s slack-jawed demeanor.

"Now we`ll see how much she can remember."

In Skylab, Sherlock stops, mid-explanation, observing his friend. "Strange, that is the exact facsimile of Lestrade`s face."

In the fashion of Sally Donovan, John shakes it off. God almighty, who gave Sherlock Holmes THAT box of tricks to play with? He blames Molly Hooper.

"Do you have to be good at bloody everything new you try?"

And Sherlock has the grace to grin.

Brenda`s eyes remained fixed into the distance. The thousand yard stare.

" I remember a tiny window. Airless room. Hard to breathe. I was sweating…"

"Who was in the room with you?"

"Mr. Hermano. Jose, of course."

"Of course. Jose. What did he say to you?"

Creased brow. "I can`t remember."

"Press my hand for energy to remember what he said."

"Mmm. Yes. A favour. Por favor." She smiles. "Would I take some parcels back with me? It would be easy work. Some artefacts. Customs people can be difficult about – recuerdo historico – antiques."

"Yes, they may be. Did you see the artefacts?"

"Wrapped up. Don`t want to break…"

"I know. Relax. You are doing so well. Are you tired, Miss Mortimer?"

"Yes. I want my bed."

"Soon. Just tell me one more thing. Look out of the window and tell me, what do you see?"

"I – I …"

"Please…por favor. ¿qué se puede ver por la ventana?"

"I am trying…oh! I see it!"

"Good. buena chica, buena."

"An angel. I see a beautiful angel! Standing in the courtyard. Everywhere here is so hot, so ugly and dirty. She is beautiful. She is an angel to take care of me… ángel con los ojos azules…"

Angel, with the blue eyes.