"I want to know who your contacts were." John's voice was firm, brooking no arguments. "We need to work together on this."
"And what, exactly, is this?"
"Don't be obtuse Anthea, he's talking about bringing Barrymore down." Sherlock shifted in his chair "With him out of the picture Mycroft can continue his work without fear of kidnap and torture."
Anthea's blue gaze roamed over the pale face, lingering on the high cheekbones before meeting and holding the silver grey stare.
"You trust him." It was a statement, not a question.
"He saved my life, came in to get me when no one else did."
"And you don't think that's strange? A total stranger, and no ordinary total stranger but a blind man, walks into Barrymore's lair and unpicks your handcuffs?"
"How did you know that?" Immediately John was alert.
"You said…" suddenly the ever efficient PA looked and sounded unsure.
"No, I think you'll find that neither of us mentioned handcuffs." Sherlock moved to stand behind her. "Only someone who had seen me, or been told by an insider could possibly have known that."
John rose and edged around the table until he stood next to his new flatmate.
"What is your connection to Barrymore?" he asked.
Anthea twisted in her chair and smirked up at them.
"He is my boyfriend!"