'Cleopatra's Needle. One of the sphinxes heads were smashed off. Stolen. Sold online as a "replica". Someone got three million dollars out of it, as it was for a private collection. Police later seized it. Tried to trace the IP address from the online auction site. Did not work. Who got the money? SH'

Emma looked across at Eleanor. "E stands for 'evil'," Eleanor muttered as she started dialling on the payphone. Emma waited patiently, looking at a security camera. "Why are you so quiet... nervous about his trial?"

"I guess we're both nervous about our men." Eleanor froze at her words. "He would have hated it in jail." 

No one else was at the phones except for Emma and Eleanor. Well, Casey was there too, but by now she had sunk so far into the shadows there was no point of her being there. Emma walked to the phone beside Eleanor and started dialling, too. They both had a mission to complete.

"Yes, James, it's Eleanor... no I haven't told anyone... listen, I know you're upset but I need your help.... no, no drugs this time... I just need information.... hold on a sec..."

Emma was talking to Mycroft, listening to his emotionless voice. What a Holmes. "Based on our calculations, the next 'attack' will be at Cleopatra's Needle. We're hoping nothing harmless, but at least then it would give my brother something to distract him. Not that I care..." Mycroft droned aimlessly on and on as Emma put the phone back on the receiver.

"Cleopatra's Needle," she told Eleanor who then told James. The plan was set in motion, but what would actually happen at Cleopatra's Needle is something no one could have predicted.

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

Sherlock was in St. James Park, waiting for another attack to occur, and had left John and Rosie at home. He had Lestrade's messages opened on his phone so that Greg could be texted right away, if anything were to happen. What surprised Sherlock was that just a moment after he had turned off his phone, it lit up with a message from Lestrade. "I was supposed to text you, Greg." He opened his phone and read the text.

'Cleopatra's Needle NOW or you'll miss out on all the fun. -Lestrade'

Sherlock hailed a cab, instructing the driver where to go, and got off a block early to beat the traffic and run to the tourist attraction. When he got there, he saw that one of the sphinxes head had been smashed off and taken, in broad daylight. Everyone around him seemed not to notice. 

He went to a homeless lady sleeping on a bench and shook her awake. "Did you see anything?"

She looked around, confused. "Sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock huffed and walked away from the bench, examining the sphinx statue. Why only one? What are they planning on doing with it?

"Excuse me," a man approached Sherlock. Dead end job, sells drugs but doesn't use them regularly, wearing a scruffy army green coat, grey sweat pants, and a black t-shirt. He is wearing running shoes, and has a confused look on his face. His brown hair is in a buzz cut, and he has a tattoo going down the back of his neck. "Are you Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock eyed him. "Yes, who are you?"

"The name is James. I was sent here by Elea-- Emma, she says I'm the only tie that she'll have to the outside world, can't be you as you will be too busy with  a case to pass on information. I'm supposed to help you."

I suppose I need a new temporary partner because one is in jail and the other is a father. "Sphinx head has gone missing, do you know what happened to it?"

James got a notification on his phone and checked it. Great, I'm working with a man who can't pay attention. This is worse than me working alongside Rosie. Sherlock started to walk away before James said, "This one?"

On his phone was an ad posted on eBay, a photo of the sphinx head (taken from before), called a "replica", which was in a bidding war. The ad had been posted 23 hours before, meaning the bids were almost done. Sherlock looked and saw that there was a bid of three million pounds, meaning that the person who was buying it knew that it was more than just a replica.

"How did you find this?"

James put his phone back in his pocket. "I just sort of got a link from a cell number. Over text."

"Which number?" James brought out his phone again, and showed Sherlock a number which he recognized. Lestrade. 

Where was Lestrade, anyways? He sent texts to both Sherlock and James, and he was nowhere to be found. Who had taken Lestrade's phone? And where is he now?

Sherlock turned to James. "Meet me at 221 B Baker Street in one hour, sharp." He began to walk away when James stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

"To meet a friend."

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

Sherlock walked into St. Bart's.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" Molly abandoned her autopsy to see a man who she hadn't seen in a long time. "You never come around and visit anymore."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, things have been... busy." He started to look at all the specimens and other scientific equipment in the lab.

"I'm guessing you need a favour, or something?"

"Molly, stop underestimating yourself. You're more than just being put to use. I came to say hi." 

She stood up straighter as he said this, and a smile started to form on her lips. "Oh." She stared at him for a moment. An awkward silence in the air. She noticed that Sherlock was not standing as he usually did, his shoulders seemed to slump just a little bit. Sad. As Sherlock looked up from the specimens and equipment, she spoke. "I'm sorry about Emma." She paused. "It must be hard."

He stared at her now, and noticed the sympathy on her face. He did not need to nod or say yes, as it was a known fact that Emma being in jail was very hard for him, especially now as he has been too busy and hurt to call her. Talking to her over phone is not the same as seeing her in person, but going to the jail to talk to her is not the same as before. That's why he sent her a burner phone when these cases started, so that he could still update her but not have to face her. He limited his texts just to cases, he thought about her all the time but could not let her know that. He did not know when she would be getting out of prison. He cares about her a lot. He looked back at the specimens.

"I'm here if you ever need me." She walked closer to him and noticed that he was staring at a microscope, the slide blank. "You can use the equipment whenever you want, you know." She was about to get some slides for him to look at when her phone dinged. He looked up at her, wanting to know who it was.

"Lestrade?"

She nodded. "Needs me to look over some samples. Would you like to help?"

"Samples for what?"

"For what happened at St. James park."

Sherlock stood up straight and tilted his head slightly. "Not about Cleopatra's Needle?"

"What happened at Cleopatra's Needle?"

"Meet me at my flat in an hour." He ran out of St. Bart's. Molly sighed.

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

AN HOUR LATER. 

221B BAKER STREET.

Molly sat on the couch, looking at James beside her. James stared at the floor. Both were waiting for Sherlock to speak, he had just been looking out the window for the past few minutes. He liked people watching, making deductions with limited time. Finally, still looking out the window, he spoke.

"Both of you got texts from Lestrade, notice anything weird about them?" They stared at him cluelessly. "James, you don't know Lestrade... how did he get your number? Did Emma tell you anything about him?" James shook his head. "Molly, when did you last see Lestrade? Is he the one that gave you the samples, who usually oversees lab work?" Molly shook her head.

"He doesn't oversee lab work usually, but I just saw him as I was leaving work to come here."

Sherlock looked over at Molly. "You saw him? How was he?"

She shrugged. "Seemed fine. Normal self during a case, a bit stressed. Nothing out of the ordinary. He got a phone call when I passed by him though, so I wasn't able to talk to him. Police were at Cleopatra's Needle, I guess he was getting an update."

Interesting. Someone is texting from his number but he still has access to his phone. Is it possible that Lestrade sent both messages to James and Molly, but someone else sent Sherlock his message? Greg would never write 'you'll miss out on all the fun', he did not think cases were fun like Sherlock did. Cases are real, and difficult, and stressful. Sherlock looked back out the window.

"I need you two to help me. James, you will be my connection to Emma." Kind of like a stand-in. "Molly, you will be my connection to St. Bart's and Scotland Yard. It appears that some of my information I have been getting before is not completely correct."

James gets a notification on his phone. "The head sold, 3 million pounds."

Sherlock nodded at this information, knowing that it would sell. He asked both of them, "What would you do with 3 million pounds?"