Sherlock called the inn later in the day to see if Mary Gray and her mother arrived. The lady at the front desk said she would call him back when they did. Officer Davis was also going to talk to her at the inn, but Sherlock didn't tell him he needed a ride. He wanted to walk. It was nice out, and the inn wasn't far.

When the lady at the front desk calls again, Sherlock walks out of the guest room, putting his coat on. Lily is in the kitchen, ingredients surrounding her. She looks up. "Mum and Dad just left. Are you going to the inn now?"

"Mary Gray and her mother have arrived. Officer Davis is supposed to be there as well. I don't want him to start asking questions before I get there."

"Well... take your time."

"I will. I have a feeling I'm about to get closer to figuring this whole thing out." He walks out the front door and to the sidewalk, breathing in the clear air.

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Lily pulls up her recipe. She'll start with the béarnaise sauce. That's probably more difficult than the steak itself. And then she can steam the broccoli (a last minute addition at the grocery store).

First she has to mince the shallots. She can do that, probably. Anything to avoid cutting a vegetable in a remotely fancy way, she will do. But this time she gets out the cutting board and a knife — which is a good knife to mince shallots? — and recalls her dad mincing onions when she was a kid. She also thinks of Gordon Ramsey on Hell's Kitchen and Master Chef. The knife feels awkward in her hand, and she cuts slow. Chef Ramsey would be disappointed.

Once the shallots are minced, Lily moves on to the next step: reducing the vinegar, shallots, and tarragon — another thing she has to cut. Reducing has never been her strong suit. It always ends up too liquid-y or too hot.

"There should be no more than a few tablespoons of liquid left," Lily mumbles under her breath. "How much is a few? Three?" Is it okay if she has less? She takes in a deep breath, tries to convince herself that she can do this, and looks at the steaks. When should she cook those? How long will it take? How long will Sherlock be gone? Hopefully long enough for her to do the recipe at least twice; there's no way she's getting this on the first try.

She grabs her phone — no music is playing, as she needs all of her focus to not screw this up — and gets on YouTube to find a video about how to cook steak. However, the first video she clicks on makes her realize that she has no idea how Sherlock wants his steak cooked. Well? Medium-well? Rare? She clicks off the video and onto his contact. Hopefully he isn't at the inn yet.

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When Sherlock enters the inn, after a nice, brisk walk, his phone rings. He holds his finger up to the lady at the front desk, as she was about to speak to him. It's Lily calling.

"Hello?" he says.

"How do you want your steak?" she asks.

He chuckles. "I assumed you deduced that."

"No, I just forgot."

"Medium rare."

"Okay. Got it. Are you at the inn now?"

"Just walked in."

"Alright. See you soon. Bye."

"Bye."

He hangs up, and the lady at the front desk points him into the dining room. "They're in there, waiting for you."

"Thank you."

He walks into the dining room, finding Mary Gray, her mother, and Officer Davis. "Hello, Mr. Holmes," Mary says.

"Hello." He shakes her hand, then Officer Davis', then Mary's mother's.

"I'm Sherry," she says. He sits down.

"We just wanted to ask you a few questions about Nancy," Officer Davis says.

"How much do you know about your daughter's testimony?" Sherlock asks.

"She told me everything," Sherry replies. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. I haven't told her anything, though. It's... Well, it's hard to explain. Nancy has been so private about everything, and I don't know how she'd want me to tell it, you know. There's a reason she doesn't talk about it."

"What do you know?"

"Well, I don't know a David. The only other information I think I can provide you with is Henry. She and James fought with him, in the war. He was... Well, they were in love, Nancy and Henry. They were talking about getting married. But the three of them — Nancy, Henry, and James — were close, though James outranked them both. Then, Henry was sent on a special mission. I don't remember what it was, specifically, but the point is, he never came back. They didn't find his body, but he was assumed to be dead. After that, Nancy was a wreck. As soon as she could, she got out of the military, but she and James stayed connected. He was the only one who understood, you know. Eventually, they started going out once they felt like they were ready. He resigned from the military to marry her. She said couldn't be around it anymore, and I don't blame her."

"Do you think it is possible Henry didn't die in Afghanistan?" Officer Davis asks.

"I suppose, as they never found his body. But it's been so long. I don't understand how he would've survived that long and gotten back here. Of course, I don't know the details of that mission he was sent on. Nancy would never say. I don't even know if she knew."

"Describe Henry for me, please."

"Mary told me what the man looked like, from a distance, anyway. It seemed consistent. Short, blond hair, cropped beard — though he was almost six foot, but of course Mary said he walked with a limp and was a bit hunched over. I suppose he was injured, when he disappeared."

"You didn't mention that," Sherlock says to Mary.

"I forgot," she replies. "I figured you'd get it from the police, anyway."

Sherlock sighs a bit, but then he factors this new information into what he was already thinking about. He's so close to the answer, he can feel it. He just needs to think it through — and talk to Mycroft.

"What was Henry's last name?" he asks, already typing out his text to his brother.

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The béarnaise sauce is well reduced — to the point of burning. She forgot to watch and stir it while she was trying to figure out the steak, which is far more well than medium. The entire dinner already seems to be falling apart.

In dismay, she tries to make the sauce again, hoping she bought enough ingredients and that Sherlock is still at the inn. More mincing, more reducing, more hoping and praying it doesn't burn this time. She sets aside the well steak for herself and decides to try Sherlock's again. She knows she didn't buy enough steak for screw ups, but steaks are expensive.

She puts the sauce and the steak on, then remembers the broccoli and hurriedly starts preparing that. Fortunately, steaming broccoli doesn't seem to be that hard. Unfortunately, that means they may be having broccoli for dinner tonight — and nothing else.

While the broccoli is cooking, she turns the heat down on the sauce and tries to move on to the next step — mixing in egg yolks and butter. However, the sauce now looks nothing like it does on the recipe because hers is far too watery. She didn't let it reduce long enough. Does she even have enough ingredients to try again? Maybe. But does she have time? Maybe some flour will thicken it, just a little.

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Sherlock heads back out onto the sidewalk to begin the walk home. Mary Gray said the doctors were expecting Nancy to wake up any time now. Another reason for them to go to the hospital tomorrow — that and his hunch.

He puts it from his mind for now; there won't be much more to figure out until they actually get to the hospital. Also, he has to admit he's excited for dinner. He hasn't had steak and béarnaise sauce in a long time, and if Lily's making it, it has to be good.

When he gets to the house, he knocks on the door, then promptly hears something clattering to the floor. Lily opens the door. "Sherlock-"

"It... smells like béarnaise sauce in here," he says, walking in. It does smell like béarnaise sauce but something is... off about it.

"Well that's a good thing because you definitely don't want to taste it," Lily replies. It's then that he sees her eyes are watery.

"What happened?"

"First I burnt it, and then it was too watery, so I added flour, and I kept adding flour, and now it just tastes like a sticky, flour-y mess, and I cooked both the steaks too long. The first one is practically charred on the edges, it's so awful. The only thing that's edible in here is the broccoli and even that smells bad." She wipes at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, I've ruined your dinner. I tried, I just..."

He frowns. He shouldn't have asked for something so complicated. "I'm sorry, you're such an excellent cook, I thought-"

"Baker, Sherlock," she corrects. "I am a baker. Cooking and baking are two entirely different things. This recipe is so unspecific. What's a dash? What's a few? I need measurements, exact directions, times. This is just too subjective."

Sherlock walks into the kitchen, thinking it can't be as bad as she said, but... it mostly is. The béarnaise sauce is more like a paste — as in, glue — but the steaks look fine. Not medium, but fine. The broccoli is also fine. This can be salvaged. He was looking forward to it, anyway.

"Do you happen have enough ingredients for another go?" he asks, picking up the bowl Lily dropped.

"I- Maybe."

"Then let's figure this recipe out. Also, do you have any cheese? Mum always put melted cheese on our broccoli."

"Really?"

"That's what makes it edible."

Lily gets out the ingredients they need, including the cheese, while Sherlock scans the béarnaise sauce recipe on Lily's phone. Next to him, Lily is holding the shallots. He holds out his hand for them, finishes scanning, and moves to the cutting board. The knife is on the counter near him, though not close enough to reach without moving.

"Hand me that knife," he says.

"It's right next to you." She hands it to him anyway. He begins mincing the shallots, recalling memories of seeing it done and the few times he's done it himself. Lily sounds almost incredulous. "Can you actually cook but you just choose not to?"

"Chopping isn't terribly hard. I know how to use a knife."

"Your phrasing worries me."

He puts the minced shallots in the pot. "I watched my mother cook all the time when I was young."

Lily chops up the tarragon and puts it and the vinegar into the pot, then they let it reduce. As it's cooking, Sherlock hunts for another pot (Lily has to show him where they are) and starts melting the cheese. He glances at the sauce periodically, remembering what it looked like when his mother made it, as well as what the recipe says. When the time is right, he turns the heat down on the sauce. Lily adds the yolks and butter and whisks while he plates the steaks and the broccoli with cheese. Lily pours the sauce over the steaks, and Sherlock takes them to the kitchen table.

"What do you want to drink?" Lily asks.

"Water is fine."

Lily gets the drinks, and then they sit across from each other. She frowns. "You gave yourself the burnt steak."

Even covered in sauce, he can tell that it's fine. "It's not burnt."

"It's not medium."

"Well is my second favorite way to eat steak."

Lily rolls her eyes. "I'm sure."

He cuts into his steak, eating slowly, savoring it. Lily doesn't seem particularly upset about her own meal now, though she's rather quiet.

"We're going to the hospital tomorrow," he says.

Lily looks up. "Is Nancy awake?"

"Not yet. Any time now. There's something I need to check on."

"So you got some good information from Mary Gray's mother?"

"Henry was Nancy's boyfriend before James. They all served in the army together, they were friends. Henry was sent on a mission and never came back, presumed dead, and she and James eventually got married."

"So, Henry just came back to see her? But that was so long ago. Could he really have been lost over there that long? If he wasn't, why didn't he come to see her sooner? Or...?"

"That I'm not quite sure of yet, but I plan to figure it out. Hopefully tomorrow."

"No mention of David?"

"Didn't know him. That's the one thing I can't fit in to my theories."

"You'll figure it out. You always do."

He frowns. "Not really. I never found Robert. Mycroft's been looking as well, but he hasn't found anything either."

"We didn't have much information about him to begin with."

"Neither did the Holders. It's like he never existed. That bothers me."

"Talk about it after dinner," Lily says, gesturing to his plate. "You're thinking too much; you've stopped eating."

Sherlock decides not to argue and begins eating again. "Alright, then, what do you suggest we talk about?"

"We can start with how good this sauce is. I can't believe you can cook."

"Sort of."

"And you can bake. Rosie really liked your cake."

"You made the cake."

"You helped."

"You helped with the béarnaise sauce."

Lily looks at him pointedly, but she doesn't argue with him. By the time they've finished eating, Lily's parents return. They walk in the kitchen to look at the mess. "Well, how was dinner?" her mum asks.

"Bad, at first. But Sherlock fixed the sauce," Lily replies.

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "It wasn't that bad."

"It wasn't great."

Lily's mum, despite not making the mess herself, starts to clean it up. "Well, you certainly seemed to enjoy it. There's nothing left."

"Did you make dessert?" her dad asks.

"I didn't have time," Lily replies.

Sherlock puts his silverware in the sink. "There's always tomorrow."

"We're going to the hospital tomorrow."

"Surely we won't be there all day."

"Oh, is Nancy awake?" Lily's mum asks. They explain everything to her as they clean up. Once the kitchen is clean, they move to the living room and watch TV. Sherlock sits down next to Lily on the couch, looking at his phone. No response from Mycroft yet. He's not really paying attention to whatever they're watching. Lily is laughing with her parents. She seems much happier than she was when he first got there. He mentally kicks himself for making her make such a complicated dish.

She looks over at him with a smile, and he smiles back. Mycroft texts back, so he gets up and heads into his room to call him, making sure he gets all the information. The more he learns, the more confident he is in his hunch.