"St Bart's? Not sure how safe that is then, its smack in the middle of Barrymore's patch." The beginnings of hope started to deflate. "We may have to find another way of recreating…."
"I don't think so." Sherlock interrupted. "My friend is not the most noticeable person in the world."
"Really? Who is it, the cleaner?"
Sherlock threw him an irritated glare.
"His name's Mike Stamford, he's a lecturer at the med school and…what?" He stopped, noticing the grin on John's face.
"'Bout the same height as me, chubby, wears glasses?"
"Not chubby; fat."
"And he's still at Bart's? Bloody hell, I was a student with Mike! I'm not surprised he's teaching now though, always was a swot."
"Then you know what I mean."
"Okay." John retreated into his thinking mode. "Did you leave Mike with any instructions regarding your notes? You know, like 'destroy them if I don't come back'?" he asked.
"No, my brother would know to go to him, or at least send someone he knows."
"Wait here." Suddenly John jumped up, and headed out of the flat.
Sherlock listened to him trot carefully downstairs and knock on Mrs Hudson's door. Ten minutes he was back with a big grin on his face.
"Right, we need to get the notes, you now have a laboratory- in the basement."