(WESTIE’S FLAT; Third Person POV: )

 John was sitting on the sofa beside Andrew West’s fiancée. He had been there long enough for her to have made them mugs of something which were on the coffee table in front of them. Lucy was upset throughout the ensuing conversation.

“He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t.” Lucy insisted.

“Well, stranger things have happened.” John told her gently.

“Westie wasn’t a traitor. It’s a horrible thing to say!” She exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, but you must understand that’s...” John began, but she cut him off.

“That’s what they think, isn’t it, his bosses?” Lucy interrupted.

“He was a young man, about to get married. He had debts...” John nodded, but was once again cut off by the emotional woman.

“Everyone’s got debts; and Westie wouldn’t wanna clear them by selling out his country.” Lucy stated, clearly not going to betray her ex-fiancé’s name.

“Can you, um, can you tell me exactly what happened that night?” John asked cautiously.

“We were having a night in, just watching a DVD.” She smiled at the memory. “He normally falls asleep, you know, but he sat through this one. He was quiet.” She became tearful. “Out of the blue, he said he just had to go and see someone.”

“And you’ve no idea who?” John asked again, still extremely cautious. Shaking her head, Lucy began to cry.

Some time later, she opened the front door and showed John out. A cycle courier walked along the pavement towards the house, wheeling his pushbike.

“Oh, hi, Luce. You okay, love?” The cyclist asked.

“Yeah.” Lucy mumbled.

“Who’s this?” He demanded, not too aggressively.

“John Watson. Hi.” John introduced.

“This is my brother, Joe.” Lucy said to John. She turned to her brother.  “John’s trying to find out what happened to Westie, Joe.” She explained.

“You with the police?” Joe asked, looking John up and down.

“Uh, sort of, yeah.” John answered, standing up straight.

“Well, tell ’em to get off their arses, will you? It’s bl**dy ridiculous.” Joe asked.

“I’ll do my best.” John reassured.

Nodding, Joe turned and put a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder for a moment before wheeling his bike inside the house. John cleared his throat and stepped closer to Lucy.

“Well, er, thanks very much for your help; and again, I’m very, very sorry.” John said. He turned to leave but Lucy called after him.

“He didn’t steal those things, Mr. Watson.” She told him. John turned back to her. “I knew Westie. He was a good man.” She started to cry. “He was my good man.” She turned and went back indoors. John walked away.

(NIGHT TIME; Alice’s POV: )

John was in the back of a taxi heading along Baker Street. Further along the road, the homeless girl was standing by the railings on the other side of Speedy’s, shaking a paper cup at people as they passed by. I watched from the window of 221b back in my regular clothes.

“Spare change? Any spare change?” She asked. Sherlock ran out. I saw him come out of 221 and stop, looking down the road towards her. The taxi pulled up and John got out. Sherlock walked over to him.

“Alex Woodbridge didn’t know anything special about art.” John said. I couldn’t tell what Sherlock was saying since his back was to me.

“And...” John said, looking sarcastic. Sherlock looked towards the girl again and started to head towards her while apparently still talking to John.

“No, give us a chance! He was an amateur astronomer.” John complained. Sherlock stopped dead and turned towards the taxi, pointing at it. John went over to the taxi while Sherlock went over to the girl. Before he spoke to her he looked up to 221b’s window and gestured for me to come down. And in less than 30 seconds I was down in my coat standing next to Sherlock.

“Spare change, sir?” The homeless girl asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Sherlock answered.

“Can you wait here?” John asked to the cab driver. The girl handed Sherlock a piece of paper. Unfolding it, we saw that she had written “VAUXHALL ARCHES” on it. Smiling briefly, Sherlock turned and walks back to John with me following.

“Fortunately, I haven’t been idle.” Sherlock told John, opening the cab door and letting me get in before he did.  “Come on.” He urged. John climbed in and the taxi drove off.

VAUXHALL

We  got out of the cab and were walking along, Sherlock buttoning his coat as he gazed up at the sky, John to his left and me to his right.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sherlock asked. John and I looked up at an impossibly dense star field that you would never see in central London in a million years.

“I thought you didn’t care about things like that.” John asked. I looked back at the dark alley ahead of us and smiled softly.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it.” Sherlock answered, receiving a bigger smile from me. I was careful to not let him see. We got to the Arches.

“Listen: Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answering machine at his flat – a Professor Cairns?” John informed.

“This way.” Sherlock instructed. John followed without question. I had an uneasy feeling and put my hand on the butt of my pistol, ready to draw. I heard Sherlock snicker behind me. I shot him a look and backed up next to him.

“Nice... Nice part of town. Er, any time you wanna explain.” John said, beginning to look around uneasily as we rounded to a darker alley.

“Homeless network – really is indispensible.” Sherlock explained. I smiled.

“Homeless network?” John asked, getting a small flashlight out of his pocket.

“My eyes and ears all over the city.” Sherlock said.

“It really is quite clever, John. And almost completely reliable.” I said admiringly. Sherlock smiled down at me.

“Oh, that’s clever. So you scratch their backs and...” John started.

“Yes, then I disinfect myself.” Sherlock said. I laughed quietly. He had also brought out a flashlight and shone it around as we continued into the darkness of the Arches. I would have brought mine out, but it was on my pistol and Sherlock would laugh at me if I brought that out. Their beams picked out homeless people all around the place, most of them settling down for the night. Suddenly, in the distance, the shadow of a man shows on a wall as he began to stand up. The man was incredibly tall.

“Sherlock!” John exclaimed.

“Come on!” Sherlock said. I pulled out my pistol then, deeming it a fit time to do so. We ducked to the side of a wall as the man continued straightening up for ages until he was over seven feet tall.

“What’s he doing sleeping rough?” John asked in a whisper.

“Well, he has a very distinctive look. He has to hide somewhere where tongues won’t wag – much.” Sherlock explained, looking around the corner. Me behind him, I breathed in and out to calm myself, but I made sure it was silent. John looked down after he looked at my weapon as he realised that he had come out without one himself.

“Oh shi…” He began.

“What?” Sherlock interrupted, taking the doctor’s pistol from his coat pocket.

“I wish I’d...” John began again. Sherlock passed the pistol to me and I gave it to him.

“Don’t mention it.” Sherlock said confidently. The tall man broke into a run and hurried away down another tunnel. We ran across towards where he was and reached the tunnel just in time to see him climbing into a waiting car which immediately sped off. Sherlock punched the air in frustration. I breathed out in relief... but I hadn’t felt afraid... or had I? I had time to contemplate that later.

“No, no, no, no! It’ll take us weeks to find him again!” Sherlock complained.

“Or not. I have an idea where he might be going.” John offered, looking at me and smiling; he was happy that he knew something Sherlock didn’t. (Other than the solar system)

“What?” Sherlock demanded. I slid my weapon into its holster and folded my arms, putting my weight on my right foot.

“I told you: someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There can’t be that many Professor Cairns in the book. Come on.” John revealed. I smiled at the momentarily bewildered Sherlock and followed happily after John.

Okay, I got bored so I posted a day early. Sorry it's moving a bit slow; I want to finish THE GREAT GAME. Please vote and comment fun peoples!! =D