He waited until Molly had fallen asleep, curled around her pillow with a smile on her face.
Easing out from under the covers, Dimmock grabbed his discarded underwear, pulling it on and slipping silently out of the room.
The living room was eerily lit by the streetlight outside the window, its yellowy glow coating the furniture in sickly tones.
Quietly closing the door, he took his mobile phone from the charging dock and opened his contacts, pressing dial and holding the phone against his ear. As he listened to it ringing he kept his eyes on the door in case Molly came looking for him.
Finally a gravelly voice answered.
"This better be good Dimmock, I don't like bad news in the middle of the night."
"I think you'll find it is Mr Barrymore," Dimmock replied softly. "Sherlock Holmes has been seen, he's still in London."
"Where?" The gang leader was alert now, his voice low, dangerous. "Whose area?"
"Still on your turf, he was in a park just a little way away from Bart's."
"Alone?"
"No, he was talking to someone, blind guy, but he could be anyone."
The silence on the phone was thick with expectation.
"Find out more, get me details." And with that the call was ended, leaving the police officer staring out of the window blankly.