As Emma waited for Sherlock, she paced around the room nervously. This was serious. This piece of information was so important. It wasn't that her smile looked a bit forced, or that the lighting was a bit off, or that her selfie angle could've been better. No. It was something more than that. Something way worse than that.

A knock came from her front door so she went to open it, practically running.

"Emma, what's wrong?" She dragged Sherlock through the doorway and into the living room, pushing him to sit on the couch. "Emma, what are you doing?"

"Just look. Look at this photo and tell me what's wrong with it."

She sat down beside him, looking between the TV and Sherlock.

"When was this taken?" he started to stand up to get a closer look but Emma put her arm out, keeping him on the couch.

"Yesterday. Sent it to her husband just before she died. Text said: almost done cleaning, see you soon. Do you think we should show Lestrade?"

"He would want to see this."

"I don't think a phone call would do. We need to physically see him, Sherlock."

------------

Emma walked into Lestrade's office, Sherlock directly behind. Lestrade put down the file in his hand and spun his chair around to better look at Emma.

"Figure anything out?" he asked.

"Maybe you can." She put her phone in front of Lestrade's face. It was a picture of the picture of the picture from the television.

He started to push the phone away from his face, "That's not really my division."

"Oh, come on, Greg!", Emma thrust her phone back in front of him. "Just try!"

He sighed. "Fine", he stared at it for about a second before giving up. "I don't get it."

"I mean actually try."

"I'm busy."

"Greg." She put on a mad face and he took the phone from her, really trying.

"Greg...." Sherlock muttered behind her. "His name is Greg...."

After at least a minute, he still couldn't find anything.

"I really tried", he stated.

"Here", Emma pointed to the left corner of the picture. "A shadow. The shadow of a murderer."

"Whoever did this", Sherlock started, "Took her phone. She sent it to her husband, got killed, we got there while the phone had left."

"So our murderer is stealing old phones and replacing them with Apple watches?" Lestrade asked, seeing if they were serious or not.

"Yes, Lestrade", Sherlock answered. "Do keep up."

------------

They were in the cab going back to Sherlock's flat. So much more needs to happen in this case and after the lead from the picture, they can achieve this so much more.

"Hey, Sherlock", Emma stopped staring out the window and looked at Sherlock. "I forgot to ask you something?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock stopped staring out the window and looked at her, having them both face to face.

"How did you know my address? I never gave it to you."

"I have my ways."

"Your brother got my file out, didn't he?" She asked her question quite cross. "What did you find out about me?"

"Oh, not a lot." He stared back out his window, avoiding her questions completely.

"Are you sure? You must've found out my address and my number to know that it was me. What else was in my file?"

"Nothing much. Occupation... Address... Phone number... Family... Any job offers that are of importance... And any legal offended or court dates or police records."

She stared back out her window, also, watching the London streets go by in a flash. They say you pass 7 psychopaths everyday. Wonder if I'm looking at any right now.

"Anything... interesting?"

"No." Sherlock mentally slapped himself for responding a millisecond too quick.

"No? Are you sure?" She looked back at him, not caring for a second that he was still staring out his window. Probably processing how long it would take to get back to his flat. Or to put in better words, get out of this conversation. "Nothing else you needed your brother to check?"

"If there was something, then we would both know, meaning that this whole conversation is pointless."

Emma looked past Sherlock and saw the 221 B door zoom away from them.

"Excuse me, you missed our stop", she spoke up.

"No, you didn't", Sherlock reassured the driver.

Emma started to protest, "But Sherlock--"

"We have a dinner reservation", he casually said this. "Good thing you're dressed nice."