"I know. It's on the telly!"

Clara sat on the couch in her apartment, sipping on a cup of Tea her Grams had whipped up for her, as the older woman chatted away on the phone. Derek's body had been found at the shop last night, like the woman - Tyler - had said. Of course her Grams was making a big deal about it. 

"She's lucky to be alive!" Mrs. Hudson gushed getting an eye roll from the brunette on the couch that she didn't notice. The door to her flat opened and she turned to see Greg walking in with big eyes. 

He immediately found a seat beside the brunette on the couch, taking her free hand in his, "I've been phoning your mobile all day, I finally got a moment off."

"It's fine," Clara gave him a soft smile, though her mind was a million miles away. Who was that woman from last night? How did she know about Derek? "There's no need to make a fuss."

"Well, what happened?"

"I don't know," Clara lied smoothly, shaking her head. Honestly, she was a terrible liar, she was just lucky Greg wasn't that observant. 

"Did you see anybody?"

Clara sighed, leaning forward to set her mug on the coffee table, "no, I hadn't gone in. It was already closed when I got there."

Greg sighed himself, sitting back into the couch and running a hand down his face. He suddenly sat forward after a silent moment, checking the insides of her cup with a frown. "Are you drinking tea?"

"Um-"

"Nah, nah, that's no good. You need something stronger." He took both her hands and pulled her up to her feet. 

Clara rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips, "I'm fine, really."

"Nonsense, you need something stronger. My treat." He smiled sweetly at her and she caught his eyes going to protest, but she knew it was futile when she got hooked in his bright eyes. 

She gave in with a sigh, "fine."

"Yes!" Greg cheered, pulling her scarf around her neck for her before dropping his hand to her lower back as he guided her towards the door. 

"Grams! Greg and I are going out!" She called to her grandmother, stopping in the doorway. 

"Have fun!"

The pub was packed, being that there was a game on. Clara rolled her eyes, she should've realized when Greg had been so persistent that they go. But, it was a nice distraction from her wandering thoughts. She'd probably never see that woman again in her life, she couldn't keep thinking about her. 

She was just coming back from the bathroom, heading to where Greg was at the bar, engrossed in the game. That was when she caught a glimpse of blonde hair ducking out the front door. It couldn't be. 

She tossed a hesitant look towards her boyfriend, before deciding he was too distracted to notice if she just ducked out for a moment. She hurried out the door she had saw the blonde leave from and out into the chilled air. Grey clouds loomed above them meaning it was going to storm any moment now, but that was the least of her concerns. 

Where was she? She was sure she'd just seen her a moment before. With a frustrated sigh Clara turned to head back to the pub only to come face to face with bright Hazel eyes and crimped blonde hair, "what're you doing here? At a bar?" She asked,

Clara took a quick step back, startled, "having a drink."

"Well, what're you doing that for." Tyler frowned at her like she was the craziest person she'd ever met.

"Because a man died last night in the same shop I was in." Clara crossed her arms, but Tyler completely ignored her, her eyes fixed on her phone screen.

"This things always bugging, I really need a new one." She grumbled, tapping her finger against the screen repeatedly before giving up with a sigh.

"You can use mine?" Clara offered, holding out her phone.

Tyler's eyes turned up to the brunette as she slipped her own into her coat pocket, "thank you." Was all she said before she plucked the phone from her hands and headed off in the other direction.

Clara let out a heavy sigh, having to jog to keep up with the blonde, "we should go to the police, the both of us."

"Oh, that won't last long. He's clearly cheating." Tyler mumbled to herself as they passed by a couple on the bench. The woman leaning her head on his shoulder while the man was busy on his phone. 

Clara frowned back at the couple, but just brushed it off and turned her attention back to the blonde, "I'm not blaming you. Even if you did lead that man into that shop."

"Mummy issues."

Clara looked over to the man they passed who was on the phone with someone and tears in his eyes. "All the same he was a nice bloke."

"Dead Dad." Tyler mumbled again and Clara turned her eyes to a girl they walked passed who was trying to hail a cab. 

The brunette shook her head, "Anyway, if we're going to go to the police, I want to know what I'm saying. Which means you have to explain what happened last night."

Tyler stopped suddenly causing Clara almost to topple over as she tried to stop as well, turning to the blonde who held out her phone back to her, "how was America? Was it as crazy as they say it is?"

"What?" 

"You've been recently abroad," Tyler stated more than asked, gesturing to Clara like that explained everything. 

Clara shifted, seeming slightly startled by the assumption, "how did you know that?"

"You've got a tan. You won't get that kind of tan in gloomy London," She tossed her phone and Clara jumped to catch it. She turned to ask how she knew she had been to America but Tyler was already heading off down the road again.

Clara rolled her eyes, speeding up to a quick walk, "how'd you know I'd been to America."

"Same way I know your father's dead, you and your mum don't get along, and you and your boyfriend aren't going to last much longer." Tyler shrugged like it was that simple, causing the brunette to stop dead in her tracks. This time it was the blonde to stop and look back at Clara, frowning, "what is it?"

"How do you know all of that?"

Tyler rolled her eyes, "I observe." That was the only answer she gave before heading off again.

"Hey! Hold on! You can't just go swanning off!" Clara chased after her.

"Yes, I can," Tyler called over her shoulder. "Here I am! Swanning! See ya!" The blonde took a sharp turn and Clara sped up to a full on sprint to catch up with her but as soon as she turned the corner she was no where in sight.

She heaved, trying to catch her breath as her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for her, but not seeing her anywhere. How could she just disappear like that? 

Two months had gone by since the trial had ended, and while the press had slowly started to move on to other stories, Clara was still finding herself avoiding reading too many papers, preferring to skim the headlines, but even still, she still noticed a small headline at the bottom of the front page of 'The Sun' about a big expose that was supposed to be a 'tell all' about Tyler from someone called Richard Brook, apparently an actor that Tyler had hired to convince the public and Sherlock Holmes of her amazing detective abilities.

Clara had almost choked on her mouthful of tea, caught between finding the entire article completely hilarious to downright ludicrous, but it had made far more sense after she had noticed the journalist name: Kitty Riley, the very same women who had cornered Sherlock in the bathroom at the courthouse and began badgering both him and Tyler to let her interview them. And to think, she had actually felt sorry for the women after Sherlock had recalled the story to her.

Well, she supposed that something like this was eventually going to happen to one of them, and from what she'd been told Kitty Riley had been quite desperate to get her hands on a nice juicy story to impress her editor, no doubt she thought writing such an article would be a good way to get her own revenge back on Tyler and maybe even turn a few members of the public against her. She paused, frowning as she  glanced back at the headline, a rather unsettling thought crossing her mind. If the paper was really willing to risk getting sued for slander, then surely they must feel that they have enough proof to actually run the article, which would have to mean that at least some of it was true and that this Richard Brook really was real, otherwise they would never run the story.

Perhaps he was an old school friend of Tyler's after a bit of money and fame? That was possible, Clara supposed, but she doubted if Tyler ever really had any friends from school, if she did she never mentioned them. Kids could be so much cruller then adults and Tyler was hardly popular now, so she found it hard to imagine that she would have been popular during her school years, being so much different to the rest of her peers. Especially with the whole orphan history. No, this Richard Brook must be someone else, but how on Earth did he manage to actually get any information, let alone the type of information that the article was alluding to, though there was no doubt in her mind that the entire thing about them having been paid by Tyler to convince the press and Sherlock that she really was a brilliant detective just like him was a complete lie. There would be someone who would believe it, there always were with stories like that, but anyone who knew Tyler would know the truth.

Deciding to see the humour side of the entire thing, Clara left her dining table with her empty breakfast plate and tea cup, and quickly loaded them into the dish washer. She had already washed and blow-dried her hair before having something to eat, so she quickly set to work putting her hair half up into a bun at the base of her head, thin eyeliner, red nail polish, and red lipstick. She had already picked out her clothes and laid them out over her made bed, which consisted of dark brown boots, a pair of grey skinny jeans, a light blue blouse, and a navy jumper over it. She had also picked out a pair of pearl drop earrings, and a matching single pearl necklace with a small diamond,

Clara quickly dressed and made her way out of her bedroom. "Tyler!" She called, knocking lightly on the bathroom where the blonde had been taking a shower.

"Coming," Came the muffled reply followed shortly by Tyler coming out, fully dressed.

She had her hair in loose curls that were still damp from her shower, done up with some mascara, lip gloss, and black nails. She was wearing a pair of black flats, a pair of black skinny jeans, a navy blue top and of course, her black trench coat. She had also picked out a pair of rose shaped, black suds, and a matching rose necklace with a diamond in the center of it.

"Come on, Sherlock texted me. Greg and Donovan came over." Tyler rolled her eyes at the mention of Sargent Donovan, but otherwise followed her over to the door adjoining Sherlock and John's flat, slipping through it to be welcomed to the sound of someone using a power drill downstairs in the entrance hall. Mrs Hudson had hired a couple of workmen to fix up some wiring a few days ago, Clara remembered as she walked across the landing to the open living room door, only to come to a stop. Lestrade and Dononvan were standing in the room, each holding a file as Sherlock moved about the room. They all glanced over at the girls as they entered.

"Ah, Tyler," Sherlock said, spinning around to look at them properly, "Clara. Finally."

"What have I missed?" Tyler asked.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them and Clara looked over her shoulder to see John had arrived, half jogging up the steps, and she smiled. "Clara, hey," he said rushed, giving her a quick kiss as he moved passed her and into the room. "Sherlock, something weird..." he began, only to trail off as he notice Tyler standing just inside the living room, along with Lestrade and Donovan's presence. He glanced at the girls, "What's going on?" he questioned, confused.

"Kidnapping," Sherlock informed the three of them as they moved further into the room, speaking fast as he took a seat at the dining table before his laptop, typing something into it.

"A kidnapping?" Clara repeated, immediately growing concerned as she dropped onto the couch.

"Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S," Lestrade told them, running his eyes down the open folder in his hands.

"He's in Washington, isn't he?" John frowned, confused as to why Scotland Yard would be getting involved.

"Not him, his children," he explained, shaking his head, "Max and Claudette, age seven and nine," Donvan turned her own folder around so that they could see two pictures, one of a young, curly haired boy and another of a young, brunette girl taken at a beach somewhere. Tyler moved closer to the pictures, examining them closely for even the slightest detail of what the children might be like. If they managed to escape from the captures, however unlikely, it might help to work out where they would run to, "They're at St. Aldate's," Lestrade finished.

"That's a boarding school in Surrey," Tyler remarked before Donvan had a chance to tell John at his questioning look. She finished looking at the pictures and looked back up to find the others looking at her, "Jimmy went there when he was a kid," she said at their looks.

Sherlock, who had stopped typing, was looking at her thoughtfully, "Moriarty attended the same school?"

"Yes," she nodded, her voice growing grim, knowing that it couldn't possibly be a coincidence that two siblings had been abducted from the same school that Jim had attended. He had to have something to do with this, he just had to.

He maintained eye contact with her for a moment before nodding to himself, as if it had confirmed exactly what he had suspected, and returned to his typing.

"Anyway," Lestrade cut in, frowning slightly as he looked between the two, before shaking his head, "The school broke up, all the other boarders went home," he told the detectives, "Just a few kids remained, including those two."

"The kids have vanished," Donovan added, and Tyler threw her a quick look, wondering why she bothered to even say that when they already knew.

"The ambassador's asked for you both personally," Lestrade said, looking back and forth between Tyler and Sherlock, who had already climbed onto his feet and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, Tyler quickly tossing Clara a quick look as she followed the tall detective.

"The Reichenbach Heros," Donovan commented sarcastically, watching them go.

Sherlock and Tyler hesitated for a moment, Tyler struggling to stop herself from saying anything as they continued on their wY out the door, and off down the stairs. "Isn't it great to be working with celebrities," Lestrade said, almost as sarcastic as Donovan, following behind them.

"You're so hilarious, you know that Lestrade," Tyler called back sarcastically over her shoulder to him, earning a laugh from the man.

St. Aldate's School was a large mansion that had clearly been turned into a school after once having been a private house. The building was large, built using pinkish bricks and set surrounded by open land with a long, gravel drive way that lead straight up to the front doors of the school. Uniformed police offers roamed around the area, searching for clues as Lestrade drove his unmarked police car up towards the school and pulled to a stop. They climbed out of the car and began to make their way up to the front of the school, where an older woman was sitting on the bonnet of a police car with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, being quietly comforted by a female officer. Sherlock looked questioningly at Lestrade.

"Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress," Lestrade quietly informed Sherlock and Tyler as they approached the women. He gave Sherlock a pointed look, "Go easy."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued walking closer to the older women as Tyler followed, eyeing him carefully as they came to a stop before the upset women, "Miss Mackenzie," he began, his voice quickly taking on an accusing tone as he glared at her, "You're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night," his voice grew louder, until he was shouting angrily, and Tyler could only stare at him, startled "What are you, an idiot, a drunk, or a criminal?" he demanded furiously, suddenly pulling the blanket off Mackenzie's shoulders, the women gasping in fright, "Now quickly, tell me!"

"Oh, my God..." Tyler whispered, dropping her head into her hand to hide her embarrassment.

The poor women flinched away from him, looking completely terrified and tearful as he continued to glare her down, "All the doors and windows were properly bolted," she told them hurriedly, her voice shaking with fear, "No one, not even me, went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" she cried.

At once, Sherlock's entire demeanor changed and he broke into a reassuring smile, placing his hands gently on the women's shoulders, "I do," he assured her, "I just wanted you to speak quickly," he straightened and released the women, looking at a nearby policewomen as he began to walk into the school, "Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now..."

He disappeared into the school as John and the girls could only stare after him, Miss Mackenzie sobbing loudly as the policewomen moved to comfort her. Slowly, they looked at each other and shook their heads, following after Sherlock, still slightly stunned by what he had just done to get an already upset woman to speak quickly.

They soon caught up with Sherlock - Lestrade and Donovan joining them, and made their way up stairs to the top of the school and entered the girl's dormitory, which was a large room with old fashioned metal beds around the room, covered with pink blankets, and dark wood flooring. Even the walls were painted the same baby doll pink to match. Tyler's attention went straight to one of the beds that she guessed must be the little girls, since it was the only one that had its blankets mussed and a teddy bear left lying in the sheets. There was no other sign of a struggle, no traces of blood, which was always a welcome relief in cases like this, even the small mat on the floor by the edge of the bed didn't seem to have been moved, which meant that the kidnapper must have struck while the girl was sleeping, or she was simply too afraid to try and fight back.

"Six grand a term, you'd expect them to keep the kids safe for you," John remarked, looking around the room as Sherlock and Tyler carefully examined the little girl's bed, Tyler checking inside the small cupboard beside the bed while Sherlock got on his hands and knees, peering under the bed.

Clara glanced at Lestrade, remembering what he had told them earlier, "You said the other kids had all left on their holidays?"

"They were the only two sleeping on this floor," Lestrade nodded, watching Sherlock and Tyler as they continued to look around the scene, "Absolutely no sign of a break-in," Sherlock picked up a lacrosse stick that had been left on the floor and stood, experimentally swinging it, as if it was a weapon, before shaking his head and dropping it back on the floor with a loud clatter, "The intruder must have been hidden inside some place," he finished, watching them work.

"Possibly," Tyler muttered, but she didn't elaborate further at the curious looks from the others, her mind already off on another train of thought.

Sherlock and Tyler moved around to the end of the bed where a large wooden chest was sitting, and flipped the lid open to reveal brightly colored toys, chalk, books, and a rather curious looking brown paper envelope sitting right in the middle of the toy box, completely out of place among the child's toys. Sherlock reached into the box and picked up the package, holding it up closer for them to see a red wax seal on it that had already been broken. He turned it upside down and pulled out a thick, hard cover book and flipped it over to show the front cover with the title written in black lettering, 'Grimm's Fairy Tales'.

Tyler let out a dry laugh, getting a curious look from Sherlock. She took the book from her and flipped it over in her hands to run her fingers across the clean cover. "I used to hate the Disney versions of Fairytales, too sugar coated - my brother was the one to introduce Grimm's Fariytales to me-"

"Lovely backstory-" Sherlock cut her off, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and Tyler cut him off just as quickly as he had her.

"I, in turn, showed it to Jimmy," that got his attention and she rolled her eyes. "My favorite was Rapunzel. His was Hansel and Gretel." Sherlock glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as she quickly flipped through the books pages for anything that might have been stuck into the pages.

"Interesting," Sherlock said just as softly, "There seems to be a lot about this entire case that's got a connection to Moriarty. His school, these Fairytales."

"Interesting and very unsettling," she sighed, shaking her head slightly as she dropped the book back into the trunk.

Sherlock actually seemed like he wanted to say something for a moment as he looked at her, before he gave her a very small, reassuring smile and lightly touched her hand that was sitting on her knee. She blinked in surprise, before quickly recovering and giving him a grateful look, glad that they seemed to have reached a point in their friendship that Sherlock was starting to become a bit more comfortable being more... well, human around her.

Sherlock pulled his attention away from her and removed his hand from hers, looking back over to Lestrade, John, Clare, and Donovan, who were watching them a little too closely for both his and Tyler's comfort, "Show us where the brother slept," he told them, shutting the lid as he stood.

Tyler was taken aback again as Sherlock offered her his hand, actually taking a moment to help her up so that she wouldn't be in danger of toppling over as she rose. She caught Clara's eye as they headed out the door and down the hallway, Lestrade leading the way, and felt the back of her neck warm very slightly as the small twitch of her lips and knowing look. It wasn't unusual for Sherlock to suddenly do something gentlemanly for her like that, such as opening doors or, once, even helping her with her coat, but she supposed that for someone like Sherlock, it probably did seem like a rather surprising thing for him to do. It didn't mean anything, it was just him being nice and Clara was just reading too much into it like she did with everything.

They walked back through the hallway to the other side of the house were the boy's dormitory was at the end of the corridor. The door had been left open slightly and it creaked as Sherlock lightly pushed it open onto a small room as they moved into the space, Sherlock and Tyler taking it all in. There was only a couple of beds in the room and the walls were painted blue this time, and just as with the little girls bed, only one of the beds had rumpled and mussed sheets still on it with the boy's belongings still around his small corner of the room.

Sherlock moved to stand closer to the boy's bed, holding out a hand towards it, his gaze coming to rest on the frost pane of glass at the top of the door, "The boy sleeps there every night," he began, his voice sounding softer than normal, "Gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor," he pointed over to the doorway, "He'd recognize every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door."

"Okay, so..." Lestrade trailed off, raising his eyebrows at him, not seeing what he was getting at.

"Someone approached the door," Tyler said slowly, eyeing the frosted window thoughtfully, "Someone he didn't recognize, a stranger."

Sherlock walked over to the door, "he can even see the outline of a weapon," he continued, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door, holding his hand up in the frosted window to make it look as if it was a gun. He pushed the door back open and moved back into the room, frowning thoughtfully, "What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room?" He wondered aloud, walking back over to the bed, his eyes roaming around the space, "How would he use them if not to cry out?" he glanced at the child's possessions and moved around the other side of the bed, nearest to the wall, "This little boy, this particular little boy..."

"Spy novels," Tyler cut in, pointing over to the bookcase that was against the wall beside the boy's bed, its shelves filled with books. Judging by the age level of those books he was clever, and what little boy didn't imagine themselves in a different one, this particular case a spy novel. He'd have picked up a few tricks. "He'd have known it was pointless to try and call for help, he was clever and there was no one on the entire floor. He'd settle for the next best thing," she finished, meeting Sherlock's eyes, having a pretty good idea just what that might be.

Sherlock nodded in agreement as John frowned slightly, considering everything they had deduced, "He'd leave a sign?" he guessed, looking between the two.

"Exactly," Tyler pointed at him with a wide grin, she moved around the bed, her eyes carefully taking everything in. That's when she noticed the cricket bat leaning up against the side of the book case. She took it, dragging her hand across the wood before sniffing her fingers. She smirked across the bed at Sherlock, tossing it to him before dropping to her knees and grabbing something from under the bed. She pulled out a small, empty glass bottle and held it up for Sherlock to see the label said 'Linseed Oil'.

He looked back over to Lestrade, "Get Anderson," he ordered sternly.

Anderson joined them in the room and closed the windows shutters, leaving the room almost pitch-black as Sherlock held an ultraviolet up against the wall over the top of the bed, lighting up the hidden words, 'Help Us,' that had been written in linseed oil across the wall. C;ara winced as she noticed that there was a dragged child's handprint after the 'S' in 'Us,' as if the boy had been forcefully pulled away from the wall.

"Linseed oil," Sherlock commented, eyeing the words before taking a step back from the wall, directing the ultraviolet light onto the floor by the bed.

"Not much use," Anderson said, shrugging, "Doesn't lead us to the kidnapper."

"Brilliant, Anderson," he glanced back up to the man, and quickly refocused his eyes back on the floor, moving further away from the wall, seeming to be following something on the ground.

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes. Brilliant impression of an idiot."

Tyler laughed, unable to help herself as Sherlock flashed her a smirk. Anderson seemed less then pleased as he shot her a dark glare, but she simply smiled sweetly back at him, knowing that it would only annoy him even more.

"Tyler," Sherlock's voice caught her attention, making her look back over to see him pointing down at one of the floorboards, "The floor."

She looked down to see several illuminated footprints had been left behind after the kidnapper must have stepped in a puddle of the linseed oil. Some of the footsteps seemed much smaller than the others, and Tyler realized that the boy must have been on his tip-toes as he was forced out of the room. Anxiety.

"He made a trail for us!" John exclaimed in realization as they began to follow the footprints out the door.

"The boy was made to walk ahead of them," Sherlock nodded, pointing down at the smaller prints that had been left behind, jumbled up among the larger footprints of the kidnapper.

Clara frowned slightly, looking at the smaller prints, "On, what, tiptoe?" She questioned, confused as she glanced back to Tyler and Sherlock, still following the trail out the door and into the blacked out hallway.

"It's a sign of anxiety," Tyler explained, trying to avoid stepping on any of the footprints as she walked, "I would say that the kidnapper would have had a gun held to his head."

"The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways," Sherlock added as they followed the trail, Anderson right behind them with a second ultraviolet light, "He had his left arm cradled about her neck."

They continued down the corridor until the footsteps faded, the linseed oil either having dried on their shoes and feet or, likely, having worn off, "That's the end of it," Anderson said, walking a few steps forward with his light raised up higher to try and see if there was any more footsteps up ahead, but nothing showed up in the light, "We don't know where they went from here," he turned back to face them, throwing Sherlock and Tyler a quick look as they came to a stop at the last, solid footprint, "Tells us nothing after all."

Tyler raised her eyebrows at him as Sherlock nodded slightly, "You're right, Anderson, nothing," he agreed, actually sounding sincere.

"All except his shoe size, his height, his gait, and his walking pace," Tyler cut in with another mocking, sweet smile in Anderson's direction, shrugging, "So, basically, a great deal of valuable information that could very well break the case before tea time."

Sherlock stepped over to the nearest window and pulled the blackout material that had been stuck across it down, tossing it off to the side of the hallway as daylight streamed in through the large, half-moon window. Anderson, looking slightly sour, began to head back down the hallway with Lestrade, leaving the detectives, John, and Clara to their work as Sherlock crouched on the floor by the still illuminated footprint, reaching inside his pocket to pull a lidded plastic Petri dish and his wallet of tools from his coat pocket, holding them out for Clara to take - who had crouched beside the two detectives. She took them and knelt on the floor, feeling a bit like a surgeon as she unclipped and rolled out the tool kit, somehow managing to balance it in her lap.

John crouched down beside the girls, eyeing Sherlock as he began chuckling to himself, looking like Christmas had come early, "Having fun?" he asked him, lowering his voice.

"Starting to," Sherlock replied, smiling broadly as Tyler carefully selected a small scalpel from the tools, offering it out to him with the handle end, making sure not to accidentally cut her fingers on the very sharp blade.

"Maybe don't do the smiling," Clara advised him as she did so, and he paused, glancing back up to her, "Kidnapped children?" he reminded him pointedly.

Sherlock paused and, after a moment, inclined his head in agreement, before setting to work using the scapel to scrap bits of the dried linseed oil footprint up as John stood and left them to it. Tyler selected a pair of tweezers from the kit and used them to pick up the wood samples, placing them into the Petri dish.

With their examinations of the school complete, Sherlock, John, and the girls hailed a cab, driving back to London so that they could take a trip to Bart's Hospital to take a closer look at the wood samples, dearly hoping that something from the kidnapper's shoes had stuck in the oil for them to find.

"But how did he get past the CCTV?" John frowned, sitting in the back seat of the cab, John and Sherlock sitting on either side of the two girls, "If all the doors were locked..." he trailed off, looking back across Clara to the other two.

"He walked in when they weren't locked," Sherlock told him, pulling his gaze from his window.

"But a stranger can't just walk into a school like that," Clara argued, shaking her head.

"Of course they can," Tyler cut in, looking over to him, "It's all about having the right timing and distraction, and you'll find that you can walk into any building without being noticed," she shrugged, "Even Baskerville was easy to get into with the right tool, a child's school would be easy to slip inside."

"Exactly," Sherlock nodded, raising his eyebrows at him, "Yesterday, end of term, parents milling around, chauffeurs, staff. What's one more stranger among that lot?" he looked back out the window, thoughtful, "He was waiting for them. All he had to do was find a place to hide."

With that rather unsettling thought, they soon arrived outside Bart's Hospital and pulled to a stop, climbing out as Sherlock, not even bothering to offer to pay for the cab, went striding off into the hospitals front doors. Tyler rolled her eyes, exchanging a look with John and Clara as she quickly unzipped her wallet, paying for the cab, since it was her turn. The three of them had started taking turns paying for the cabs because of how rare it was for Sherlock to actually wait around long enough to do it himself, much to their exasperation.

As the cab drove off, John and the girls hurried after Sherlock, soon finding him waiting impatiently for a lift to reach their floor. They slipped inside and Tyler grimaced slightly, grabbing hold of one of the railings on the side of the wall as she felt the lift begin to rise, always having hated the feeling. Sherlock glanced over at her with an amused twitch of his lips and Tyler ignored him, or tried to. Thankfully, Molly's lab was only on the second floor, and the lift soon came to a stop and the doors slid open, allowing them to escape.

Sherlock paused in front of a vending machine that was directly opposite from the lifts doors, "Time for lunch," he remarked, pulling his wallet from his trouser pocket and finding some change.

"I would hardly call a packet of chips lunch, Sherlock," Clara sighed, mildly disappointed as she watched him select a bag of chips, bending down to grab the bag as it dropped down into the slot beneath the glass display.

"We don't have time for a proper lunch, Clara," he said, rolling his eyes slightly as he tossed her the bag of chips, slipping more coins into the slot and selecting another packet of chips. She fumbled with the bag for a second before managing to get a proper hold of it.

She sighed again, "Chips, the lunch of champions, I suppose," she muttered, realizing that her craving for a ham and salad sandwich was unlikely to be fulfilled.

With Sherlock's idea of lunch sorted out, the four of them set off down the hallway, pushing a set of doors open at the end of the hall, almost running straight into Molly as she seemed to be preparing to leave, her coat on and her bag hanging over her shoulder, "Molly!" Sherlock greeted her brightly.

"Hello, Molly," Tyler smiled at her.

"Oh, hello," Molly blinked, surprised to see the three of them, "I'm just going out..."

Sherlock put a hand on her shoulder, lightly turning her back around to the face the direction she had just come from, "No you're not," he told her at once.

"I've got a lunch date..."

"Oh?" Clara asked curiously, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

"Cancel it," Sherlock cut across Molly as she went to answer Clara, lightly putting a hand onto her back to make her keep walking along with them back down the hallway to her darkened lab, "You're having lunch with us," he dropped his hand and reached into his coat pockets, dramatically pulling a bag of chips out for her to see just what was on the menu.

"What?" Molly gaped at him, completely confused by what was going on as she fell into step just behind him and Tyler.

He slipped the chips back into his pockets, "We need your help," he informed her, "One of your boyfriends, we're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty!" he smiled slightly back over his shoulder to her, Molly having stopped a couple of steps behind them as they reached the door at the end of the hallway, Sherlock grabbing the handle.

John stared at him, also seeming quite surprised, "Its Moriarty?" he questioned.

"Why is that so surprising?" Tyler said, sighing heavily, "This entire case practically has his name written all over it."

"Er, Jim wasn't even my boyfriend," Molly spoke up suddenly, making all four of them look back to her, but her eyes were directly on Tyler. "We went out three times. I ended it. I didn't know-"

Tyler held up a hand, "it's fine."

"Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels," Sherlock began, speaking quickly and quite bluntly, "Broke into the Bake of England, and organised a prison break at Pentonville," Molly's shy smile faded as he continued, "For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly."

Clara rolled her eyes in exasperation, lightly smacking his arm, "For God's sake, Sherlock!" she huffed, giving him a quick glare as he seemed quite surprised. She shook her head and turned back to Molly, giving her a comforting smile. "It is definitely not your fault he turned out to be a psychopath."

Tyler nodded, "Jimmy could be quite charming when he wanted to be."

And with that, the three women strolled through the doors; Sherlock and John holding them open for them, before following close behind them.

Sherlock had set up a microscopes as they stood in one of the labs, John and the girls standing on the other side of the lab bench from where Sherlock was preparing to look at the wood samples beneath the scope. The door swung open and Molly staggered in, carrying a heavy stack of books and folders in her arms that was almost completely blocking her face from view. Clara quickly moved to help her, taking the top half of the pile from her arm load as Molly gave her another grateful look, the two women moved to place the books on another lab bench across the room.

"Oil, John," Sherlock commented, hardly seeming to notice Molly and Clara's struggle as he glanced across the table to John. Clara threw him a dark look, resisting the urge to chuck one of the folders at his head, that ought to catch his attention. He unscrewed the Petri dishes lid and used the tweezers to pluck one of the wood samples out, "The oil in the kidnapper's footprint, it'll lead us to Moriarty," he continued.

Tyler watched curiously as Sherlock grabbed a glass tube with some sort of bubbling substance in it. He dropped the piece of wood into it and watched closely as the liquid reacted at once, the bubbling growing even more violent. After a couple of seconds, the bubbling stopped and the liquid inside turned a greenish-brown colour as he suctioned up some of the liquid, carefully dropping it onto a glass slide.

"Hopefully, the oil will have preserved much of the data," she said, glancing across to John and Clara, "Our shoes can tell us about everywhere we have gone, from the type of mud to the dust type, our shoes pick it all up and sometimes, if we're lucky, we can use all of that data to find the person," she turned back to Sherlock, eyeing the liquid, "Just with a few tests we should, hopefully, be able to see just where our kidnapper has been, and go from there."

Sherlock slid the slide under the microscope, while John and Clara moved away, across to the other side of the room to start taking a closer look at the crime scene photos that Lestrade had sent them, laying them out across the bench before them as they searched for any new clues that they might have missed that morning, leaving Sherlock to his expertise: chemistry.

"Sherlock, come look at this," Clara called over ehr shoulder. Sherlock looked up at her and let out a heavy sigh, but eventually got up and went over to her and JOhn.

"Tyler, finish that for me."

Tyler watched him go with wide eyes, Chemistry was definitely not her subject. But, she supposed she knew enough from watching Clara and Sherlock to get by and Molly was still there to help her. Finally she moved around to where Sherlock once stood and she glanced over to see Molly pulling a pair of purple latex gloves on, "I need that analysis," she told her, going straight to the microscope.

Molly nodded and set to work, squeezing some of the liquid into a glass dish and soaking a piece of Litmus paper in it, turning the paper blue. She moved around to Tyler's side, "Alkaline," she reported back to her.

"Thank you," she muttered, her eyes still fixed to the microscope with a confused frown.

She pulled her gaze from the microscope and quickly made a note of the first component in the liquid that she had been able to find, scribbling down the word, 'Chalk'. She picked up another wood sample and dissolved it into a yellowish liquid with small pieces of what appeared to be grains of dirt floating around in it, holding it up to the light. 'Asphalt,' she determined. She did the same thing for the last three samples, finding traces of brick dust, some sort of vegetation, and lastly, a substance that she couldn't seem to be able to recognize. She slipped the slide under the microscope for a closer look, "I... owe... you..." She muttered as she typed something into the compute. "Glycerol molecule," she sighed heavily and frowned, "What are you?"

Molly glanced at him as she returned his attention back to the microscope lens, typing, "what do you mean, 'I owe you'" she said, turning to face him properly as Sherlock looked back up, his gaze coming to rest on where Clara and the boys were still going through the photos, Clara absently eating her chip's, "you mumbled it while you were working.

"Nothing," She shrugged it off. "a mental note."

Molly frowned watching her, "you're a lot like my dad. He's dead," she cringed as she realized how that sounded, closing her eyes briefly in embarrassment, "No, sorry..."

Tyler smirked over at her softly, "you're not the best conversationalist, are you?"

Still cringing and growing pinker with embarrassment, she continued on with what she was trying to say, "When he was... dying, he was always cheerful, he was lovely, except when he thought no-one could see," she looked at him carefully, the embarrassment fading, "I saw him once. He looked sad." Tyler frowned at her in thought.

"You look sad..." she cut across him, and glanced across the room to Clara and the boys as the three spoke quietly together, "...when you think they can't see you, like you're just trying to stop yourself from crying" she took a breath and looked back to Tyler as she slowly looked back at her, "Are you okay?" she went to open her mouth but she interrupted her, "And don't say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."

"You can see me," she pointed out.

She smiled slightly, "I don't count."

Tyler blinked at her, shocked. They may not have been as close as her and Clara were, but how could she see herself as not counting.

Molly took another deep breath, "What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me," she flinched and looked away again, blushing, "No, I just mean- I mean if there's anything you need..." she stumbled over her words, before she looked away again and shook her head, starting to turn away, "It's fine."

Tyler looked her over quickly, taking the offer into consideration, "what could I need from you?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Nothing," she turned back to her, shrugging, "I dunno. You could probably say 'thank you,' actually," she nodded firmly, still seeming nervous.

Tyler's lips twitched, "thank you." She nodded at her turning her attention back to the task Sherlock had given her. Molly nodded again and began to walk past her, heading towards the door.

On the other side of the lab, completely unaware of what had just happened, Clara and the boys were still looking through the pictures, Clara glancing up briefly to see Molly's ponytail whip around the edge of the door as it swung closed behind her.

"Tyler," Sherlock stood and crossed the room to the blonde. "Look at this." He handed her two pictures

She frowned and looked them over, one was of the envelope found in the trunk, the other was a similar envelope she had never seen before. "Where did this come from?"

"On our doorstep," John informed them, as he and Clara followed, "Found it today," he finally found it and pulled out another brown envelope from his pocket, quickly comparing it against the one from the crime scene photo.

"Exact same seal." Clara pointed out.

"Definitely from the same stationary," Tyler agreed, and passed the envelope over the table back to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked it over quickly and reached inside, pulling out some sort of brown dust from within. He toyed with it slightly, feeling the texture, "Breadcrumbs," he determined.

"Uh-huh," John nodded, frowning, "It was there when I got back."

"Oh..." Tyler breathed, her eyes widening, "Oh, of course".

"What?" Clara questioned as the boys and Clara all looked at her.

"It's just like the fairytale," she said, her voice growing fast the more excited she got, "This entire case has been inspired by that one story, the story that Jim loved so much as a kid. A story about two siblings who have been led into the forest by a wicked Father to follow a little trail of breadcrumbs!"

"That's 'Hansel and Gretel,'" John realized, his frown deepening as Sherlock looked away, deep in thought, "What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?"

"The sort that likes to boast," Sherlock remarked, still not looking at them, his eyes distant, "The sort that thinks it's all a game."

"Every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain," Tyler whispered to herself, recalling her conversation with Jim and her eyes widened. She quickly moved back down on the table and adjusting the microscope, before looking back up again, "The fifth substance: it's part of the tale. I couldn't quite figure it out.

Clara considered it quickly as Sherlock came over to the blonde to take a look of his own, "the witches house." She offered.

"Yes!" Tyler nodded to her, her eyes widening in realization.

"What?" John blinked, confused as he looked between the three of them.

"The glycerol molecule," Sherlock said, thinking fast, when it finally came to him, "PGPR!"

"What's that?"

"It's used in making chocolate," he leaped onto his feet, and the four of them dashed out of the lab, Clara already pulling out her phone from her handbag to call Lestrade.

They got a cab to Scotland Yard and hurried up to Lestrade's floor, where he meet them and handed Sherlock a piece of paper as they started off down the hallway to his main officers, the sounds of people talking and phones ringing sounded, "This fax arrived an hour ago," he informed them.

Sherlock took the paper and read it quickly, before passing it back to Tyler to see. It was Jim's hand writing, something she was slightly surprised to see, and he had written in big bold letters: HURRY UP THEY'RE DYING. She sighed heavily as she gave the note to John, forcing herself to focus on what Lestrade was saying as they continued further into the large room.

"What have you got for us?" Lestrade asked, looking between Sherlock and Tyler, hopefully.

"Need to find a place in the city where all five of these things intersect," Sherlock replied, reaching into his pocket and handing him a piece of paper.

He took it and looked down, recognizing Tyler's neat hand writing, "Chalk," he began to read aloud, still walking, "Asphalt, brick dust, vegetation...what the hell is this?" he frowned, reading the final note that seemed to have been added after someone had crossed out the note above it in a different pen. The last word he guessed was written in Sherlock's hasty hand writing, "Chocolate?"

"Yes, we believe that the kidnapper might have taken the kids to an old sweets factory," Tyler nodded, coming to a stop beside Clara and the boys, "At a guess, I would say that we're looking for a building that hasn't been operational in the past twenty to thirty years."

"We need to narrow that down," Lestrade said quickly, seeming to decide that it was better to just go along with it. He frowned slightly, "A sweet factory with asphalt?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head, thoughtful, "No, no, no. Too general. Need something more specific."

"What about the chalk substance?" Tyler suggested, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Yes, chalk," he nodded to her, "Chalky clay, that's a far thinner band of geology," he turned away from them slightly, his eyes growing distant with thought.

Lestrade frowned deeply as he looked back down at the slip of paper they had given him, his hands on his hips, "Brick dust?" he read aloud again, glancing up and over to Tyler as Donovan walked past him.

"From a building site," Tyler answered, nodding.

"Bricks from the 1950's," Sherlock muttered, still looking lost in thought.

Lestrade sighed tiredly and rubbed his face, "There's thousands of building sites in London".

Sherlock looked slightly exasperated, starting to pace, "I've got people looking," he told them.

"So have I."

"Homeless network, faster than the police," he smiled snidely, "Far more relaxed about taking bribes."

At a nearby desk, Anderson glanced up from where he was writing something and rolled his eyes, just as Sherlock's phone trilled several times, signalling that he had received a number of texts within seconds of each other. Sherlock quickly pulled his phone from out of his pocket and held it up for Lestrade to see, smiling smugly to himself about being right about his homeless network, he checked his messages, holding the phone up high for him to see the screen clearly. Clara watched him, desperately hoping that one of his homeless network had found something of use, when, after a few moments, he seemed to stop and focus on something on the screen.

"I got it," he called to them, and spun the phone around for John and the girls to see a picture of a pretty purple flower on the screen. John and the girls eyes widened in realization, nodding, "Rhododendron ponticum," he smiled slightly, "It matches," and he lowered the phone, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"Addlestone," Tyler announced and his eyes snapped to her and he nodded.

Lestrade looked up from where he had been leaning over a young man's shoulder, looking at their computer screen, "What?" he frowned at Tyler, confused.

"There's a mile of disused factories between the river and the park," Tyler explained quickly, "It matches everything," she turned and began to head towards the door with Sherlock, Clara and John hurrying behind them.

"Right," Lestrade nodded, looking around at his team, "Come on," he grabbed his coat and started off after the other three, "Come on!" he called behind him as Donovan hesitated.

Donovan sighed and jumped up from her chair, running after her boss.

With sirens blaring, several police cars came to a squealing halt outside a disused sweets factory in Addelstone. Sherlock, John, and the girls threw their doors open and hurried out of the car, running into the old factory along with the rest of the police, all pulling flashlights out of their pockets and shinning them around the darkened, damp space as they went, searching for the children.

"You!" Donovan ordered the officers, setting to work coordinating the search as they burst through the factories doors, moving off into different directions, "Search over there," she shinned her torch off down a hallway, "Look everywhere. Okay, spread out, please. Spread out".

Sherlock, Tyler, Clara, and John followed after Lestrade as he began to lead them further into the factory, carefully shining their torches around at all the old machinery that had been left behind.

"Look in there," Lestrade directed a couple of his officers, his voice soft as they continued further into the room, "Quietly. Quietly."

They made their way deeper into the factory, when Sherlock suddenly hurried forward, his torchlight lighting up a pile of brightly coloured sweets wrappers scattered across the floor ahead of them, surrounding a small unlit candle that was sitting on a plate. He quickly bent down and touched the burnt wick of the candle as John and the girls gathered around him, shinning their torches down at it.

He glanced back up to them, "This was alight moments ago," he remarked, his eyes flickering around, "They're still here!" he called out to the others.

"What about these wrappers?" Tyler frowned, crouching down and plucking one of the wrappers off the floor, shinning her torch against it, "He's been feeding them sweets?" she looked back to Sherlock, "Like Hansel and Gretel?"

Sherlock picked up another wrapper, eyeing it carefully for a moment with his own torch before he sniffed it. He tried touching the tip of his tongue against the foil and quickly pulled back with a grimace, realisation crossing his face, "Mercury," he determined.

"What?" Lestrade asked, looking over to them.

"Oh, God," Clara gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she looked back to the wrapper still held in Tyler fingers.

"They painted the paper with Mercury..." Tyler explained as John groaned, realizing just how much more serious it had become that they find the kids. She swallowed and dropped the wrapper, quickly wiping her hand against her coat as she straightened, "they've been poisoned."

"The more stuff they ate..." Sherlock nodded, staring off into space, thoughtful.

"It was killing them," John sighed heavily, shinning his torch around through the pipes and machinery surrounding them.

"But it's not enough to kill them on its own," he said thoughtfully, still not looking back to John and the girls, "Taken in enough quantities, eventually it would kill them. He didn't need to be there for the execution," he realized, "Murder by remote control. He could be a thousand miles away."

"And the longer they were out here, the more hungry they grew," Clara commented quietly, horrified. Tyler took a step back, swallowing her disgust. She could handle a lot, but these were just kids. That she couldn't handle. "The more hungry they were, the more they ate and..." Clara grimaced in disgust, "The faster the mercury killed them."

Sherlock broke into a grin, "Neat."

"Sherlock," Tyler said sharply, giving him a cold look as he looked back to her, "Don't," she told him, and he was surprised to see anger flashing in her eyes, "Just don't." His smile faded, his expression growing more sober as he suddenly felt the urge to apologize, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Over here!" Donovan's voice suddenly rang out throughout the room. They all took off running in the direction to find her kneeling beside a terrified, dirty little girl that had chocolate all around her mouth, while a slightly older looking boy was half cradled in the girl's arms, unconscious and in a similar filthy state, "I've got you," she was saying soothingly to the girl, reaching out towards her, "Don't worry..."

Clara sighed in relief and closed her eyes; just hoping that whatever damaged the mercury had done to them could be reversed.

~*~

Night had fallen while Sherlock paced outside an office in Scotland Yard, while John sat in a chair a short distance from him, staring off into space, Clara sat beside him, her eyes squeezed shut and her head resting on his shoulder. Tyler was leaning on the wall beside them, her arms crossed as her fingers absently tapped on her arm, her mind off somewhere else. A moment past before a door opened, making them look up as Donovan and Lestrade stepped out.

"Right, then," Donovan began, looking mockingly between Sherlock and Tyler, "The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn..."

Tyler rolled her eyes, only just biting back a retort as she straightened, John and Clara rising from their chairs beside her as they and Sherlock began to move towards the door, but Lestrade raised his hand, stopping them, "Now, remember," he fixed Sherlock with a pointed look, "She's in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to..."

"...not be myself," Sherlock finished, and rolled his eyes slightly.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Might be helpful," the corner of his mouth twitched as he glanced at Tyler, "Try keeping him in line, Tyler."

Tyler struggled to hold back a laugh, raising an eyebrow at him, "Surely you realize, Greg, that I have no power over what he does," she cast Sherlock a look, almost smiling at his mildly disgruntled expression.

Sherlock rolled his eyes again and sighed; reaching up to lower his coat collar that he had sticking up. Tyler dragged her eyes away from him, feeling the back of her neck warm very slightly as she realized that she actually quite liked it when he had his collar sticking up like that, it brought out his cheek bones and made him seem more mysterious, though she would never admit that. She gave herself a sharp mental shake, desperately hoping that he hadn't noticed anything as they began to make their way through into the office that Donovan and Lestrade had just stepped out of. The little girl was sitting at a small table within the room, staring down at her lap while a female liaison office was sitting beside her, rubbing her back comfortingly. The girl had been cleaned up since they had rescued her and been given a clean set of clothing, too.

"Claudette, I..." Tyler began as they moved further into the room.

The girl lifted her head, but the moment she caught sight of Tyler she instantly began screaming, looking completely terrified. Sherlock's eyes widened, startled.

"No...no..." She tried again, holding up her hands to try and ease her, "I know it's been hard for you..." the girl continued to scream in terror, trying to scramble away from her as she pointed straight at the blonde, "Claudette, listen to me..."

"Out!" Lestrade shouted, grabbing her arm, forcefully pulling her back over towards the door, "Get out!"

Stunned and confused, Clara and the boys hurried out of the room after Tyler and Lestrade, the little girl's terrified scream still ringing out behind them.

After the incident with Claudette, John, Clara, Tyler, and Sherlock found themselves in Lestrade's office, Tyler standing before a window, looking out onto the darkened street through the Venetian blinds, while Clara and the boys stood back, both frowning as Clara tried very hard to ignore Donovan's thoughtful expression that she had directed across the room towards Tyler. She really didn't like the way she kept staring at Tyler.

"Makes no sense," John remarked after a moment, his arms crossed across his chest.

"The kid's traumatised," Lestrade replied grimly, "Something about Tyler reminds her of the kidnapper."

Clara cast Tyler's back a quick, concerned look, "Has the girl said anything?" she asked.

"Hasn't uttered another syllable," Donovan informed them, her eyes still resting a little too thoughtfully on Tyler for Clara's comfort.

"And the boy?" Sherlock questioned, looking to Lestrade.

"No, he's unconscious," Lestrade sighed, "Still in intensive care."

Clara's concern grew stronger as she noticed Tyler's shoulders tense very slightly, seeming to be staring out at something. She moved closer to her and followed her gaze through the blinds, only to find that on the building opposite to them, someone had spray painted the letters, 'I' 'O' 'U' in large, bold writing across three of the windows directly facing them, the red paint still running slightly down the glass. She frowned at that, looking curiously over at Tyler.

"Well, don't let it get to you," Lestrade said from behind them, looking over to the pair, "I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room!" he lowered his voice slightly, "In fact, so do most people," he looked back to Donovan and the boys, the corner of his mouth twitching, "Come on," he and John began to leave the room. Clara gave Tyler's hand a reassuring squeeze before following after the boys, leaving Sherlock and Tyler with Donovan.

Tyler, hardly even hearing Lestrade's little remark, let out a breathe and turned around to follow after them, only to find that Donovan and Sherlock had remained behind, the former watching them both as Tyler turned away from the window. They began to move towards the door, trying to ignore her.

"Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint," Donovan commented, still eyeing them, a hint of sarcasm in her tone, "It's really amazing."

"Thank you," Sherlock said distractedly, continuing towards the door.

"Unbelievable," she went on pointedly.

Sherlock and Tyler both paused at the doorway, before Tyler turned her head very slightly to glare at her, "No, what's unbelievable is your constant inability to see what's right before your very eyes," she snapped, grabbing Sherlock's hand, and stormed off out of the room, pulling him along with her.

Together, the two detectives made their way back down stairs and out onto the street, where John and Clara was already waiting for them. John cast them both a concerned look, noticing their serious expressions as they walked out onto the curb, holding up his hand, hailing a cab. He turning back to them, "You okay?" he asked as the cab approached.

"I'm going to walk, I need to think," Tyler told them, not waiting for a response before taking off down the street. She ignored Sherlock's curious look and Clara and John shouting her name and instead tucked her hands into her pockets, starring out ahead of herself in thought.

What was he up to?

~*~

Back inside Scotland Yard, Donovan was in a large office, her eyes trained on the scattered police photographs along the table. She chewed on her lip in thought, taking everything in, and everything that had happened today. Just outside the door Lestrade had walked by, stopping in his step when he noticed her and frowned.

Her hand came out to shift a picture for her to get a better look at it.

What the hell is this? Chocolate?

We believe that the kidnapper might have taken the kids to an old sweets factory

The sound of Claudette screaming in terror when Tyler came into the room echoed in her head. That wasn't a startled scream, it wasn't nerves. She was scared of Tyler.

Get out!

Lestrade came into the room, walking up behind the Sargent with a frowned, "Problem?"

She didn't respond, just looked back at him silently before returning her attention tot the gathered evidence. She grabbed a one of the photos off the table, this one of a footprint, "The footprint. It's all they has. A footprint."

Lestrade shrugged, not seeing her point, "Yeah, well, you know what they're like – CSI Baker Street."

"Well, our boys couldn't have done it." She pointed out with a dry laugh.

"Well, that's why we need them. They're better."

Donovan pursed her lips, shaking her head, "That's one explanation."

"And what's the other?" He asked and Donovan just tossed him a knowing look. He had thought it too, she knew he did, he was just too afraid to say it.

"You ever notice that whenever Sherlock is at a stump Tyler is there to fill in the blank," She turned to him with a thoughtful look and Lestrade frowned at her. "Like with the foot prints. She found the oil. Sherlock wouldn't have found it without her." Lestrade's face turned grima s he slowly began to piece together what she was saying. "And then the girl screams her head off when she sees her – a woman she has never seen before ... unless she had seen her before."

"Wh-what's your point?" Lestrade stuttered.

Donovan tossed him another knowing look, "You know what my point is. You just don't wanna think about it."

"You're not seriously suggesting she's involved, are you?" Lestrade let out a soft chuckle, a disbeliving chuckle. There was no way.

"Think about it, she was involved with a criminal mastermind," She pointed out, her voice growing heated. "Who knows what she's done." Lestrade stared at her in bewilderment.

There was no way. He'd known the woman for three years, there was no way she could be behind all of this. He frowned as he tried to think back onto what he knew about Tyler, about her past and he came up blank. His hand came up to run down his face and chin in thought, there was no way... was there?