"It's started -DITR - pick up - C" I sent the text quickly as I stormed out of the apartment. I had just finished storming down Baker Street when a slick black car paused as I easily opened it and got it. Once the door was shut the car started up again as I turned to Mycroft in the seat beside me playing with the top of his umbrella.

"The game has started and he has made it perfectly clear that I am another player" I informed as he nodded taking in the information.

"I see you let the dog off her leash again" I playfully stated as Mycroft shot me a glare of confusion and anger.

"Oh yeah did you know she is currently been used as a pawn in Moriarty's game?" I asked rather bitterly as I could see the recognition in his eyes.

"He's making this personal" He grouched as I nodded.

"I want surveillance over my sister and her children" I demanded as he sighed almost thinking it over before the car came to a halt outside St Bartholomew's Hospital. As I hopped out I could hear Mycroft asking about the case, though slamming the door shut cut him off as I watched it drive off. Staring up at the building for a good ten minutes I sighed before I made my way inside and towards the lab where Sherlock would be running experiments with the shoes.

As I walked in I saw Sherlock sitting at a bench looking into a microscope as, beside him, a computer screen shows that a scanner of some sort is running tests. John is wandering up and down on the other side of the bench as they both glanced up at me as the door swung shut.

"Alright?" John asks as I merely nod and sit on the bench counter behind Sherlock so I can look over his shoulder at the screen. I glance across to the scanner as it continues throwing up “NO MATCH” results, as I saw Sherlock look back into the microscope. I could feel the tension in the room slightly as a phones text alert rung out as I frowned slightly.

"Pass me my phone." Sherlock requests his eyes never leaving the microscope. I did a quick glance around the room to see I couldn't spot a phone as I gathered it was still in Sherlock's jacket pocket.

"Where is it?" John asks

"Jacket." Sherlock replied simply as I saw John straighten up slowly, his entire body going rigid in disbelief and his eyes broadcasting the message “I am going to kill him.” Turning to his right, he marches stiffly around the table, slams one hand onto Sherlock’s shoulder and roughly pulls his jacket open with the other as he starts to rummage in his inside pocket.

"Careful." Sherlock angrily growls though he doesn't look up as John threw his hands up in disbelief as I patted his shoulder before hopping down from the counter and gently pulling back Sherlock's jacket. I could feel his body relax under my finger slightly as I slip out the phone and hold it over my shoulder for John who happily takes it.

"Text from your brother." John reads.

"Delete it."

"Delete it?" I frown.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." Sherlock grumbles as I chuckle as we both knew that wouldn’t be true.

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He’s texted you eight times. Must be important." John expresses as Sherlock raises his head in exasperation.

"Then why didn’t he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock growls.

"His what?" John asks tired.

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk -" I began before Sherlock's computer beeps with results.

"Ah!" Sherlock cries out delighted as we both look across to the screen which is flashing “SEARCH COMPLETE”. At the same moment Molly Hooper comes in the door.

"Any luck?" Molly asks.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock triumphantly smirks as we both begin to glance at what the results say as Molly comes over to look at the screen when a man in his thirties, wearing slacks and a T-shirt, comes in the door and then stops apologetically.

"Oh, sorry. I didn’t ..."

"Jim! Hi!" Molly smiles as I glance over towards him and freeze. I saw Jim make as if to leave the room, oh please do, but Molly stops him, damn it!

"Come in! Come in!" Molly smiles whilst Jim and I make eye contact as I saw them flash dangerously with a small smirk as I saw Sherlock glance at me slightly before he turns back to him microscope.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes. Chris and, uh ... sorry." She apologetically asks John as I went to give Jim a handshake deliberately squeezing as I saw wince slightly before I felt him secretly hand something into my palm before pulling away.

"John Watson. Hi." John introduced.

"Hi." Jim greets though I watch as his eyes are locked on Sherlock’s back as he gazes at him admiringly before he speaks in a casual London accent. I scoff slightly knowing that it's not his true accent, before I sneak look of what is in my palm to see a small diamond. Placing it in my back pocket I hop back onto the bench and watch him closely as he walks closer to Sherlock, forcing John to step out of his way.

"So you’re Sherlock Holmes. Molly’s told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" Jim admires as I roll my eyes.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance." Molly giggles as Sherlock glances briefly round at Jim before returning to look into the ’scope.

"Gay." Sherlock states as I saw Molly’s smile fades however I couldn't help but snicker. Hearing my phone buzz in my pocket I quickly grab it and leave the room before answering it.

"Hello?" I answer my tone completely business.

"Have I caught you at a bad time?" A weak voice asked as I softened and leant against the wall with a small smile on my lips.

"Of course not Megan, how are you feeling today?" I smile softly as I heard her cough down the phone making me slightly concerned.

"Not so well, do you think you would be able to visit me soon?" She asked as I check the time on my watch and bit my lip slightly.

"I'm in the middle of a case at the moment, but I definitely will, once I am able to, I promise" I smiled as I heard her sigh with relief.

"Thanks Chris" She softly spoke as I knew she was smiling.

"Get some rest and I'll be there as soon as I can" I promise before I heard her cough once again down the phone making me uneasy.

"Bye" We both ended the call as I made my way back inside to see that Jim was leaving, thank god.

"It was nice to meet you." He farewell towards Sherlock however Sherlock ignores him as Jim gazes at him wistfully as I decided to break the embarrassing silence.

"You too." I bitterly spoke as all eyes turned to me as I stood arms crossed as Jim blinks at me, looking awkward with a dangerous glint in his eye before he brushed past me once again as I felt him deposit another diamond into my hand as I quickly tuck it into my pocket. Molly waits until the door closes then turns to Sherlock furious, whilst I take my position back on the bench sitting behind Sherlock.

"What d’you mean, gay? We’re together."

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You’ve put on three pounds since I last saw you." Sherlock states as he looked over at her as I could see her clench her jaw.

"Two and a half."

"Nuh, three." Sherlock says.

"Sherlock ..."

"He’s not gay. Why d’you have to spoil ...? He’s not." Molly angrily defended.

"With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock snorted as I chuckled.

"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." John defends as I scoff at him.

"You wash your hair. There’s a difference. No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber’s eyes. Then there’s his underwear." I state as John glares at me. I know what Sherlock and I were doing wasn't nice but Molly is better off being as far away from Jim as possible.

"His underwear?" Molly asks confused.

"Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here ..." He states pulling out a card from under a dish as I snort struggling not to laugh. 

"... and I’d say you’d better break it off now and save yourself the pain." Sherlock adds once more as Molly stares at him for a moment, then turns and runs out of the room. Sherlock looks surprised at her reaction before glancing at me as I sigh slightly.

"Charming. Well done." John says glaring at us like he's scolding children as I roll my eyes.

"Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder?"

"“Kinder”? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn’t kind." John snaps as Sherlock puts Jim’s card down and then reaches over and moves one of the trainers on the desk closer to John.

"Go on, then." He offers as he sits back and folds his arms expectantly. John makes incoherent negative noises and looks at his watch.

"No. I’m not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate ..." John defends before being interrupted.

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It’s very useful to me." Sherlock smirks as I knew we both wanted to see just how much John had learnt whilst being around us.

"Fine." He grumbles defeated before he clears his throat and picks up the shoe and looks at it and its partner lying on the table.

"I dunno – they’re just a pair of shoes. Trainers." John states before quickly changing the description of the type of shoes. I give him a nod of the head and smile for him to continue as Sherlock looks away and picks up his phone as John continues looking at the trainers.

"Umm ... they’re in good nick. I’d say they were pretty new ... except the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while." John begins as I see Sherlock, who had look frustrated when John said they were new, breathes out a silent sigh of relief that his friend isn’t that stupid. I chuckle this is so amusing.

"Uh, they’re very eighties – probably one of those retro designs. They’re quite big, so a man’s." John adds.

"But ...?" I hint as John looks at the insides of both shoes and the blue smudges at the sides.

"But there’s traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don’t write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid." John states as I look at him slightly proud.

"Excellent. What else?" Sherlock asks looking up at him.

"Uh ..... that’s it. How did I do?" He asks.

"Well, John; really well." I encouraging say as I see his face lightly up.

"I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know ..." Sherlock begins as I growl as John's face deflates. Sherlock lifts his hand and slowly rotates his wrist to turn his palm up, his expression full of sarcasm. With a look of frustration, John picks up the trainer and gives it to him. Sherlock looks at it closely as he goes into deduction mode.

"The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discoloured. Changed the laces three ... no, four times." Sherlock begins as I see John puts his hands on the desk and lowers his head in despair. I pout slightly and give him a slight kick from where I was sitting as he turned to look at me as I gave him a thumbs up and smile.

"Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old." Sherlock continues.

"Twenty years?" John asks standing up straight.

"They’re not retro – they’re original." I add as Sherlock shows him an image of the limited edition - two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine.

"But there’s still mud on them. They look new." John states confused.

"Someone’s kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it’s from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it." Sherlock continues as I could John slowly losing the plot.

"How do you know?"

"Pollen. Clear as a map reference to us." I add pointing over towards the computer screen as he leant over slightly. Two dots are flashing on a map of Britain, one around the borders of East and West Sussex and the other to the south-east of London.

"South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind." I continue as I saw Sherlock smirk before John frowned and glanced up at me.

"So what happened to him?" He questions.

"Something bad. He loved those shoes, remember. He’d never leave them filthy. Wouldn’t leave them go unless he had to. So: a child with big feet gets ...Oh." Sherlock begin before he softly stares off into the distance. Almost like something had clicked I gasped, of course, Carl Powers!

"What?" John asks as he saw our expressions

"Carl Powers." I mutter.

"Sorry, who?"

"Carl Powers, John." Sherlock states getting up from the stool and heading out the door.