"Describe them?  What do mean 'Describe them'?" Brayleigh asked.

"Isn't it obvious.  Tell me what they were like: what they did, where they ate, what their jobs were, what they read, anything that I could use to figure out this password," Sherlock rattled off, his hands moving as he spoke.

"Mum said something about being a  lawyer and Dad used to be a member of the House of Commons," Brayleigh began.  "They always took walks in the evenings and stopped to eat Chinese on their way back.  They both loved philosophy and were very unhappy with the state the government was is.  Mum preferred documentaries while Dad watched programs on World War Two, specifically those dealing with ULTRA.  The way they parented was rather strict.  I always had to tell them where I was and what I was doing.  They bugged my phone."

"At your house," Sherlock interrupted, "there was a picture of an infant girl on the table nearest the couch.  But it wasn't you.  Couldn't have been you.  Then who was it?  Who would you have a picture of in your house?  Relatives, most certainly, but if the Saorises' were trying to go unnoticed, they wouldn't have pictures of their extended family.  No.  They would only have pictures of someone close to them, their immediate family.  Now, question is, how is she related?  Could be a granddaughter, step-granddaughter even, but that's highly unlikely.  What is likely, though, is that she was the Saorises' daughter."

"Excuse me," John said.  "Was?"

"And how do you know it wasn't me?" Brayleigh asked.

"My God, if you would just think!" Sherlock exclaimed, now pacing the floor.  He stopped and looked at Brayleigh.  "It's obviously not you.  You have brown hair and brown eyes.  The baby in the picture was over six months old and had blue eyes.  Assuming you don't wear contacts, which you don't, if that were you in the picture, the eyes would have been brown.  Now for 'was'," Sherlock turned and looked at John.  "That image is the only picture of the infant in the house.  But why?  If you have children, chances are you have more than one picture of them around.  Not the Saorises, though.  No.  They couldn't because that infant died, leaving them childless.  That's why there was only one picture.  As for the girl's name, well, it's obvious, isn't it?  Brayleigh."

"My name?  Was her name?"  Brayleigh asked.

"Oh, yes.  You're essentially the daughter they never had," Sherlock replied,  "When the Moriartys approached the Saorises about kidnapping an infant girl for ransom, they went right for it.  After the ransom was paid, they asked the Moriartys if they could keep the baby, you, and raise her as their own.  The Moriartys obviously didn't have a problem with this as long as they met a couple of conditions, one being that you would never find out and the other being that you would eventually work for them.  As for the password, date of birth or date of death.  Lucky for us, it's a four digit pin." 

Sherlock went to his computer and searched for the infant's dates, typing 'Brayleigh' into the search bar of the local newspaper obituaries and selecting '40 + years' as a time span.  Only one result came up depicting an infant girl.  He decided on the death date and typed it into the laptop.  "All together now.  Password is...," he said as he hit the 'enter' key.  The computer opened to a desktop screen.  "And there you are.  Oh, that reminds me," Sherlock stated, reaching in the inner pocket of his blazer.  "This is yours."  Sherlock handed Brayleigh her phone.

"You took my phone?"  Brayleigh asked confused.

"Oh, yes, and I broke into it, too.  By the way, my birth date is not a very good pass-code."  Sherlock chuckled.  "It amazes me how often people let their hearts rule their heads.  I changed it for you.  Here you go."  Sherlock handed Brayleigh a slip of paper with her new password on it.

Brayleigh took the paper, looked at Sherlock, and said, counting on her fingers, "In the twelve hours I've known you, I've: had my entire life story told to me, jumped out of a taxi, met a member of the government, found out that my 'parents' were assassins, moved into a new flat, and had my phone broken into."  She looked at John.  "Is this normal?"

"I'm never bored," John responded.

Brayleigh turned back to Sherlock, who, she noticed, had the signs of a grin escaping his lips at the last second.  "How long did it take you?" she asked.

"I figured out everything about you the second you sat down this morning.  As for your phone," Sherlock explained, "that took me no more than a minute.  What took longer, though, was deleting your useless texts.  You're welcome."

Brayleigh, unsure of whether or not to be grateful that Sherlock cleared up space on her phone, smiled and turned back to the laptop.  "What should I be looking for?" she asked as she sat on her knees.

"Any sort of certificate or paperwork that has a name other than Saorise," Sherlock said, turning back to the obituary.  "Possibly something with the last name 'Teiran'."

Brayleigh clicked on the files tab and began scrolling.  After some time, she came across a folder that seemed rather out of place.  "What about this folder?" she asked, highlighting the icon.  "It says 'Pudding recipes'."  Sherlock gave Brayleigh and inquisitive look.  "Well," she continued, "if I were trying to hide personal information on my top secret computer, I would hide it in an inconspicuously named folder.  But that's just the problem.  No one is going to think twice about a folder named 'Pudding recipes', unless you're not looking for pudding recipes.  In an attempt to be inconspicuous, they made it rather obvious.  This computer holds many secrets, so why would you save pudding recipes? You wouldn't.  Then it goes to question, what is saved under 'Pudding recipes' ?  My guess is it's something that we aren't supposed to find out."

Sherlock looked at Brayleigh. 

"I guess I should mention that 'Pudding recipes' will most likely be encrypted, too," she explained.  "They're  clever enough not to reuse the same pass-code, so I would suggest trying the birth date."

Sherlock continued to look at Brayleigh, who looked at him, the laptop, and back.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" she asked after a few seconds.

"Oh, yes, fine," Sherlock replied, snapping out of his state.  "Just thinking."

"Oh," Brayleigh said as she turned back around and clicked on 'Pudding recipes'.  As she had predicted, the folder was encrypted and the infant's birth date was the pass-code.  Sherlock grinned to himself, all the while watching Brayleigh work on the laptop.

Brayleigh continued to scroll through the files, every so often stopping to open one.  "You said, 'Teiran', right?"  she asked Sherlock.

"Yes.  Teiran was the infant's surname, so one could presume that the parents share the name with her," Sherlock explained.

"Well, according to this," Brayleigh said, "the Teirans passed away before I was kidnapped...and so did the Saorises."  Brayleigh arched her eyebrow as she scrolled through the official death certificates of both couples.  "Would you mind looking up the obits for the Teirans and the Saorises, please?" she asked Sherlock as she turned around.

The small grin on Sherlock's face left before Brayleigh could tell it was there.  "Already on it," John interjected.

As John searched through and compared obituaries from several different news sources, Sherlock meandered over to his chair and sat down.  Brayleigh slowly adjusted herself so that she was reclining against his legs and continued to work on retrieving files.

Suddenly, all three computers crashed.

"What the hell?" Brayleigh said, flabbergasted.  She began wildly clicking on the F5 button and on the mousepad.  Turning to John, and leaning her head back so that she could see Sherlock, she asked, "Did yours crash, too?"

"Yes, it did," John replied, rather annoyed, as he moved the cursor of his computer around the screen.

Sherlock clasped his hands together as he rested his lips against his fingers.  He looked at the screen deep in thought as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

"He means to say, 'Yes, my computer crashed,' " John explained, as he often did when Sherlock neglected to answer questions because he was thinking.

Sherlock suddenly turned to John.  "John," he said, "this case is much larger than I originally thought.  We've just been hacked, but I haven't the faintest as to by whom."

"So we don't have computers, we can always go to the library." Brayleigh interjected.  "Or to the archives."

Sherlock looked down at Brayleigh who had turned so that she was facing him.  "I think that we should act like I dropped your case and moved on."

"Less suspicion," Brayleigh said.

"Precisely," Sherlock responded.  "I can use the other cases as an excuse to look more into your case.  You'll continue on with your life, and John and I will continue on with ours."

Brayleigh gave Sherlock a somewhat hurt look.

Sherlock hesitated before he slowly said, with a sigh, "But that doesn't mean you still can't visit from time to time."

Brayleigh looked at John, who looked at Sherlock.

"Or whenever you want," Sherlock tried again.

John continued to look at Sherlock.

"Or help me on other cases," Sherlock said begrudgingly.

This seemed to satisfy both John, who nodded, and Brayleigh, who was grinning.