Part II: Chapter 5

September

Sherlock and John were on high alert that first week after the fake Jason Crawford had arrived at Baker Street pretending to be a client. Mycroft had taken the sketch and had started his team working on identifying the man.

At the end of the third week, things have calmed down and they've gone about their business. The hunter case had hit a dead end. Which happens. Sherlock had started to focus on some of the cold cases of Lestrade in between solving a murder at Hyde Park – a mundane four according to Sherlock – and a rather interesting case of an eloping heiress with a Russian oligarch, whose parents were not impressed. They were found shagged up at Brighton at an old family cabin.

The man that had pretended to be Jason had not been found. He'd disappeared and this had occupied Sherlock for some of his time when Mycroft's analysts couldn't identify the man. The Shikar club had come back to him regarding a date for testing his shooting accuracy and he had declined in the end. Well, he'd let John decline on his behalf as it involved paperwork and he just couldn't be bothered.

John hadn't mentioned Redbeard again and for that Sherlock was grateful. He was excited about Molly's pregnancy. It was early morning and he was on his side, his hand on her tummy, feeling the bump. Talking to his child while Molly was reading a journal.

"You have good genes, you know. I'm sure that you will enjoy the violin when I play for you. In fact, your mom falls asleep when I play Bach. Although I'm not opposed to Vivaldi or Beethoven. But I'll probably have to play the softer pieces. And we can have a look at getting you a chemistry set when you're old enough. We can do a few experiments together, you and me. Maybe look at the tensile strength of various fabrics. Or the different types of sheep wool that are currently on the market…"

"Sherlock," Molly put her journal down. She put her hand on top of his. "Maybe our child needs to learn to play first, don't you think? Do normal stuff other babies do."

"But our child won't be normal," Sherlock stated. "Our child shares excellent genes. Is it not logical to assume then that our child will be intelligent?"

Molly chuckled. "Even so, Sherlock. You know that when they're born, for those first few months they do nothing more than poop, sleep and eat. There's no chemistry sets involved until I would say they're at least 5. Let's enjoy the baby part first, okay. A season to its own."

Sherlock smiled. Leaned in towards her tummy. "Hear that, you mummy is already doubting your intelligence. Don't worry. I'll be there…"

"Sherlock!" Molly exclaimed. "I said no such thing…"

He grinned at her. Shifted position. Pulled her towards him and then he kissed her. Left her breathless as he ran a hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

"You make me happy," he said. "Both of you."

Molly gave a soft smile. "I thought happiness is a temporary construct based on a fleeting moment in time."

He gave a soft groan. They both looked up when there was a soft knock on their door. "You two decent?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"Yes, Mrs Hudson," Molly answered. Shifted up. Their door opened and she came in, a tray in her hands with tea and cups on it.

"Morning tea, dears."

"Thanks Mrs Hudson," Sherlock said as he took the tray from her. Placed it on a side table and started to pour the tea. Passed Molly hers and then he took up his own. Sipped and enjoyed the warm brew.

"How's your caseload?" Molly asked.

"Slow. I'm on the verge of boredom. Trying to keep myself busy."

"Mike has a friend who needs some help."

Sherlock gave a brief frown. "Yes?"

"Apparently he got duped by a scammer. Lost a good sum of money."

"Shouldn't that be a case for the police?"

"They told him there's nothing they could do. That he should speak to his bank. His bank said he was negligent and should've done his homework before giving money to someone he had never met."

"Molly, this barely warrants a 1."

"Please, Sherlock. It would help Mike out."

He wiggled his nose. Took another sip of his tea. Finally relented. "Fine. Only because you asked. Probably not more than a day's worth of work."

"It's embarrassing, really." Ethan said. Grimaced. "I still can't believe I got duped. I did all the things I usually do with any investments. Dotted the i's and crossed the t's, you know. But somehow they managed to pass all my scrutiny."

"Mmmh." Sherlock murmured, studying the brochure the other man had given him. John was at the clinic today and he had in the end decided to just get it over with. Secure that this wouldn't occupy much time or space in his calendar. He was more intrigued in getting back to having another look at the smuggling case and the dead hunter and Lord Byron's possible role in it. Although, the man was quiet, going about his business and Mycroft was still mum on his own reasons why he was interested. He's been wrong before and the suspicion he got from his initial meeting could've been nothing but a red herring. So far his contacts had not returned any valid information for the parameters he'd set out.

"Mike said you're some sort of detective?" Ethan continued. "Think I saw your picture on the telly about a year ago. You were missing?"

"Briefly," Sherlock said. Read the second page. It was well put out. The paper is of high end, glossy quality. The setup professional. The photos looked real enough.

"I had a cat missing once. In the end he was with our neighbours. Apparently she has been feeding him on the sly. He preferred her food to mine…"

Sherlock tuned out the rambling man. Pulled his laptop closer and typed in the search bar. Looked up the first photo. As he had suspected. Stock standard. Was one of the first three images that came up under his search terms.

"…and then I realised that it will never work. You see, the slide needs to be full before…"

The voice droned on. He sniffed the brochure. Gave it another good feel and angled it against the light. Watched how the gloss played across the surface. Entered the website that was printed on the brochure. It came back with a Not Found message in google. He frowned.

"…Mike didn't like the pub. We ended up going to the one in White Chapel…"

Sherlock moved to his microscope. Tore a small corner and placed it on a slide. Zoomed in and focused on the torn fibres. The weave of the fibres was telling.

"…then Jason said I should have a look at a mate of his that was an up-and-coming stockbroker. Apparently used to work for City before going on his own. That's why I thought…"

Sherlock's head came up. "Jason who?"

"What?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Turned in his seat and finally focused on the man sitting on the couch. He had no idea when that had happened. Finally realised that an hour had passed since the initial introduction and handover of the brochure.

"Not that hard. Jason…?"

"Oh. Jason Winthrop. Met him at the hunting club. He's quite a good shot, actually. Bagged a few ducks with him. He's more into bigger game but still, does enjoy a good hunt out in the countryside. Are you into hunting, Mr Holmes?"

"Sherlock." He corrected automatically. "What does he look like?"

"I uh…like a bloke. You know. Good build."

Sherlock got up. Went to the fireplace mantle and pulled a piece of folded paper from underneath his knife. Opened it.

"Is this him?" he asked. Pressing the sketch under Ethan's nose.

"Oh. Pretty good likeness, I say. Where did you get that?"

"Never mind. What hunting club?"

"A local one out close to Derby way. It's actually quite good for a weekend out you know. Wife likes it when I bring home some game when in season."

"Derby? What's in bloody Derby worth visiting?" John complained as he followed Sherlock down the stairs.

"Are you any good with a hunting rifle?" Sherlock asked instead. Wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"What?"

"Do keep up, John. I sometimes wonder if you got Molly's baby brain. You're more dense than usual this morning."

"Hey, cut it out."

"Here," Sherlock said, passing a gun bag to John. "Are you capable?"

"Yes, Sherlock. I'm capable," John growled, opening the zip and extracting the rifle. Looked through the scope, moved the bolt handle upwards and pulled it back. Satisfied that there wasn't a round loaded, did he close it again. Placed it back in the bag and swung it over his shoulder. He followed Sherlock out the door and into the waiting car. The two agents as ever quiet and efficient. Apparently Sherlock had already given them instructions, because they pulled away from the curb without a word from his friend.

"Sherlock?"

"I need to think."

"Oh. Bloody great. Thank you very much for the heads up. Why are we going to Derby? I had plans, you know."

"Because John, there's a hunting club close to Derby that my client is a member of. And he has gone hunting with a mate of his. Someone we met who was a pretender. And that pretender introduced him to another mate who had a brochure for investing in shares that don't exist."

"You're talking about the fake Jason? They guy that was at Baker Street?"

"Yes, John. And I think the money the real Jason received was part of a bigger scam. Both men are somehow linked and in some manner to Oliver. That part I haven't figured out yet." Sherlock said. Tented his fingers beneath his chin and closed his eyes as he leaned back in the seat.

"Can we now refrain from any more conversations? I need time to think. Oh, and if it does come up, you're a businessman doing import export."

The trip took a little more than two and a half hours. John was playing on his phone. Ignored by the two men in front and Sherlock who had not moved the entire time. He was annoyed. He really did have plans today. Wasn't really in the mood to travel back to the Midlands on such short notice or any notice for that effect. When they finally coasted into a parking area, did he look up. Sherlock stirred. Looked around and then exited. John followed, grabbing the gun bag.

They were in the middle of bloody nowhere. He huffed as he followed Sherlock to a small building. It was nothing more than a shed really, open in stalls that looked out at a range. There were two other men present, one of which was watching the other man shooting at a target down the range. John unhooked the bag at a look from Sherlock. Got the rifle out, expertly loaded it. Grabbed a pair of ear mufflers noticing that Sherlock had already donned his. At a nod from his friend, stilled himself, took aim, aligned the crosshairs to his target and lightly squeezed the trigger on the out-breath.

The shot placement seemed to drift towards the left slightly. He reloaded and adjusted the knobs on the scope. It took four more shots and some more adjustment before he hit the far target dead centre. Which is what Sherlock seemed to have wanted him to achieve. By that time, the other two men were standing beside Sherlock watching him. He pulled the bolt back which ejected the shell casing. Safely pointing the rifle towards the ground, he turned around.

"That was some good marksmanship." One of the men said. "Brad Vine, hi. Club chairman."

"Dr Watson. How do you do."

"Haven't seen you around."

John glanced at Sherlock. His friend for some reason was taking a backseat. He wasn't sure why but he just went with it.

"Oh, a friend of a friend of mine recommended the range. I was in the area and thought I'll take a gander." He slipped the gun into the gun bag and then handed it to Sherlock. Watched with slight amusement as his friend took it and moved to the side. Clearly he was taking on the role of manservant. They've done this gig before and he now understood the business reference Sherlock had made in the car.

And this gig was bloody fun.

"Anyone I know?"

"Who did Mike say it was, William? Do you remember?" he asked Sherlock. Frowned briefly as if in thought.

"Ethan, sir. The talkative fellow, sir." Sherlock said, his voice modulated.

Brad laughed. "Very. The trick is to get him to be silent for five minutes. A good beer will do it."

"Ah yes." John said. "He did mention another acquaintance. Jason something or other."

Brad narrowed his eyes. Suddenly looked wary. "Jason is no longer a member of this club."

"Oh. Okay. Never mind. I enjoyed the setup of the range. You and your members are doing a good job of maintenance." John said, hoping to placate the man. Glanced at Sherlock who gave him a small nod of encouragement.

"You guys have a pub around here?" he continued.

"Sure," the other man with Brad said. "Just down the road. You can't really miss it."

"Thanks. Let's go, William. I still have some other business to conclude after lunch."

Brad stepped up at this. "You a businessman, Dr Watson?"

John turned to the other man. "Ah yes. Import Export. You know how it is. Busy area to be in."

Brad smiled. "I dabble a bit," he said. "If you don't mind, why don't I join you for lunch and we get to know each other a bit better."

A subtle nod from Sherlock and John agreed. Led the way out to the parking area. Sherlock opened the door for him. Walked around and seated himself and then they were following the other car as it made its way to the pub.

"What was that?" he asked when they were on the move.

"Excellent." Sherlock said. "I do believe this case has just become a 8."

"What?"

"John. When you talk to Brad, I want you to downplay the company. Make it a little shady. Briefly mention international contacts. Mention an interest in Asia. Deplore the embargoes certain products have."

"Sherlock, are you serious?"

"Very, my dear Watson. I do believe Mr Brad Vine to be a very high-end fence."

"But he lives in Derby." He said. "Surely London would be better?"

"Not all criminals live in London, John. He's clearly doing well for himself. Has integrated into the community. Less suspicions and no undue scrutiny from the local constabulary. From what I can surmise, Jason was a mistake he'd more than likely not repeat again. But if you come across as less than stellar and a little shady, he might consider using you."

"Fine. How do you want to do this?"

"I think the agents and I will be seated at our own table. Our employer is being generous with providing us with lunch while you and Brad enjoy your own lunch and tête-à-tête."

"What products do you deal with, Dr Watson?" Brad asked. They were both nursing a beer. The pub lunch on its way. John had ordered Shepards Pie. Something that he thought would be easy to eat and leave it needed. Sherlock and the two agents were seated in the corner, away from where he and Brad were seated in front of a bay window, looking out on the lawn and outside area.

"Bits and bobs," he said vaguely. "Some are more valuable than others."

Brad nodded. Took a sip of his beer. "Ever shipped anything hidden?" he asked.

"Now that would be telling and illegal," John said, just giving the right hint of indignation. He took a deep draught of his beer. "This is a good craft," he said. Tilted the beer to the light. The phone in his pocket vibrated. "Excuse me," he said and took it out.

He's definitely interested. Get him to invite you to a hunt. SH

The familiar tingle of excitement of working with Sherlock Holmes settled on him. "Sorry, just an old friend."

"No. All good."

"You said you dabbled?" John asked. Looked up when a waitress came over with their food. The smell was divine and he suddenly realised he was hungry. Took a bite and savoured the food in his mouth. It was very good.

"Ah yes. Some art and jewellery. Nothing fancy or too expensive. Unique pieces that some collectors are interested in on the continent. But getting them there without interest from thieves is the hard part."

"Well, in that case, hidden can work for you?"

"At a reasonable price?" Brad asked. He cut his steak and ate a piece. John nodded. "I'm sure we can work out a deal."

Brad smiled. Took a sip of his beer. "I knew I liked you, Dr Watson. Interested in a hunt? We've got one this upcoming weekend at a friend's estate. He needs some fallow deer culled."

"Sounds great. Sure, why not." John said.

"Great. Do you have a card?" His phone buzzed again. He flipped his phone. Checked the message.

Top left-hand pocket. SH

He casually slipped his hand and sure enough, there was a business card. He took it out after giving it a brief glance. Just once, he thought, it would be nice if Sherlock shared these things with him beforehand.

"Thanks. I'll text you the details." They finished their lunch and beer in amicable chatter. Afterwards, John sat in the car with Sherlock, who was practically buzzing with excitement.

"Brilliant. Well done, John. You do have some use," Sherlock said. Grinned like a schoolboy who just hit a six.

"Glad that I have some use. Thanks a lot, Sherlock." He said insincerely. "You realise I don't have a licence for the rifle. Or that what I'm going to do this weekend is not an activity I would normally partake in."

"Mycroft will sort out the licence," Sherlock dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "And in any case, you can pretend to get a tummy ache the morning of the hunt. It will provide us with an opportunity to go and check out his residence."

"Breaking and entering; marvellous. Are you nuts?"

"Just a quick look see, John. What can possibly go wrong."

"You were right. They were here."

"Did you invite them?"

"Yes."

"Good."