The Sign of Three (Part 2)

RECEPTION...

"Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He'd stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish – but in all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?" Sherlock asked, and the guests fidget and look at each other. "Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this." He clears his throat. Still the guests remain silent. "Scotland Yard." Greg lifts his head. "Have you got a theory?" Greg stares at him blankly. "Yeah, you. You're a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?"

"Er, um, if the, uh, if the, if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ..." Lestrade said, stopping to think for a moment. "... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there." He sucks in a breath. "So, yeah, we're loo... we're looking for a-a-a-a dwarf."

Sherlock is staring at Greg blankly, "Brilliant."

"Really?" Lestrade asked.

"No." Sherlock said, instantly, as Greg sighs and lowers his head. "Next!"

"He stabbed himself." Tom said, whispering to Molly.

"Hello? Who was that?" Sherlock asked, and Tom looks round, wide-eyed. "Tom." Grimacing, Tom slowly stands up. "Got a theory?"

Tom sways nervously from foot to foot for a moment.

"Um ..." Tom said, slowly, tentatively. "Attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone; broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger."

"A meat dagger?" I asked, while a couple of the guests sniggered. "What?"

Sitting beside Tom, Molly's face is a picture of disbelief. She may be reconsidering her marriage options. At the top table, Sherlock's expression also speaks volumes.

"A meat dagger." Sherlock said, speaking precisely.

"Yes." Tom said, awkwardly.

"Sit. Down." Molly said, whispering through gritted teeth.

"No." Sherlock said, looking at Tom, speaking precisely when Molly's boyfriend sat down, as the consulting detective looked at the guests. "There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson – who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life and asked Jared to call Shirai Kuroko, knowing an ambulance can't make it to a hospital in time." Mary and I quietly laugh in delight, and John smiles. "There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling." He looks down at John. "One of the best and bravest men I know – and on top of that, he actually knows how to do stuff like Jared." John lowers his head and chuckles with embarrassment. "... except wedding planning and serviettes – John's rubbish at those."

"True!" John said, and the guests laughed.

"The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder – or attempted murder – I've ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I'm not just here to praise John – I'm also here to embarrass him, so let's move on to some ..." Sherlock said.

"No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?" Lestrade asked, interrupting Sherlock.

"How was what done?" I asked, sipping on my Rosé.

"The stabbing."

Sherlock looks down awkwardly for a few moments, then raises his head.

"I'm afraid I don't know. I didn't solve that one. Jared didn't give me any hints due to it being spoilers. That's ..." Sherlock said, pausing for a moment to think. "... It can happen sometimes. It's very ... very disappointing." He looks reflective for a second, then takes a breath and looks out to the guests again. "Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of course there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the really good bits."

FLASHBACK...

An entry from John's blog entitled "The Mayfly Man" drifts across John's laptop screen. It starts, 'We'd just returned from a quiet, civilised evening in the pub ...' The entry fades from view and I'm in Molly's lab at Bart's with Molly and Sherlock.

"Murder scenes?" Molly asked, turning and looks at Sherlock and I standing beside her. "Locations of ... murders?"

"Mmmm, pub crawl – themed." Sherlock said.

"Yeah, but why-why can't you just do Underground stations?"

"Lacks the personal touch. We're going to go for a drink in every street where we ..." Sherlock said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"... every street where we found a corpse!" I said, joining in, then finishing Sherlock's sentence for him. "That was Sherlock's idea. Not mine."

"Delightful! Where do I come in?" Molly asked.

"We don't want to get ill. That would ruin it – spoil the mood." Sherlock said.

"It really would." I said, sadly.

"Sherlock, you're a graduate chemist. Can't you just work it out?" Molly asked.

"I lack the practical experience." Sherlock said, smiling at Molly. "And Jared has no experience."

Molly looks at Sherlock straight-faced and her voice drops half an octave, "Meaning you think I like a drink."

"Occasionally."

"That I'm a drunk." Molly said, frowning.

"No. No!" Sherlock said, quickly, while Molly sternly held his gaze and the consulting detective looked away, blinking for a couple of seconds, then finally finds something to say. "You look ... well."

"I am." Molly said, smiling slightly.

"How's ..." Sherlock said, looking to the side, clearly searching his brain for the name before finally finding one which he doesn't seem totally confident of, because he offers it very tentatively. "... Tom?"

"Not a sociopath."

"Still? Good."

"And we're having quite a lot of sex." Molly said, smiling at Sherlock.

"You're into Tom now. Maybe someday, Sherlock could get to say 'I love you' to you, Molly." I said, happily.

Sherlock offlines momentarily, his eyes flickering between Molly and mid-air before he can move on.

"Maybe." Molly said, letting out a sigh.

"Okay." Sherlock said, taking a large folder full of papers from his coat and puts it on the table. "Molly, I want you to calculate John's ideal intake, Jared's ideal intake, and mine, to remain in the sweet spot the whole evening." The folder appears to be full of his, mine and John's medical records and other personal documentation. Molly looks at what seems to be a birth certificate. "Light-headed, good ..."

Sherlock hands Molly a picture of Vitruvian Man with a photograph of John's head stuck over the original head.

"Urinating in wardrobes, bad." Molly said.

"Hmm." Sherlock said.

PUB...

Sherlock stands at the bar and looks at the barman, "Two, er ... beers and two West Coast Coolers, please."

"Pints?" The barman asked.

Sherlock takes two tall and slender glass graduated cylinders from his coat pockets and puts them onto the bar, "Four hundred and forty-three point seven millilitres."

Shortly afterwards he takes the cylinders, now almost full of beer, over to the nearby bench where John is standing and puts them onto the table while I am drinking one of my West Coast Coolers.

"Ah..." John said, looking at the cylinders in disbelief, then sighs heavily while Sherlock takes out his phone, selects an app and puts it onto the bench. "Jared, you have West Coast Coolers. Why didn't you go for some WKD?"

"One of us needs to be less drunk." I said, while the phone's stopwatch started up. "Compared to you both."

"Fair point." John said, picking up his cylinder. "What, are we on a schedule?"

"You and Jared will thank me." Sherlock said, smiling clinking his own cylinder against John's and mine and the three of us drank.

NEXT PUB...

Sitting at a table in a bar, Sherlock and John clink their cylinders together with my new can of West Coast Cooler and we drink.

NEXT PUB...

Standing at the bar, Sherlock drains his cylinder, grins widely, then delicately wipes his lip. He seems to be feeling the beer a little. John looks down into his own cylinder with perhaps a disappointed expression. I am now eating fish and chips while drinking my new can of West Coast Cooler.

NEXT PUB...

John takes a long pull on his drink and hums appreciatively, while Sherlock looks thoughtfully at the level of beer remaining in his own cylinder, as I am snacking on a fry and drinking my new can of West Coast Cooler. The three of us turn and look down at Sherlock's phone on the bar, then John puts down his cylinder as I put down my can of West Coast Cooler and Sherlock bends to look at the level.

NEXT PUB...

Sherlock and John clink their cylinders together with my new can of West Coast Cooler again.

"Cheers." John said, happily.

"Cheers." Sherlock said, smiling.

"Cheers!" I said, excitedly.

We drink. Sherlock is holding his phone in his other hand, updating our alcohol levels.

NEXT PUB...

Sitting at a table, Sherlock and John drain their latest beers as I drain my latest can of West Coast Cooler and plate of fish and chips, grimace and then the Baker Street Boys put the cylinders as I put my can of West Coast Cooler onto the table. This bar has loud music playing. John turns and looks all round the room.

Sherlock points over John's shoulder and my shoulder, "Over there."

"What?" John asked, leaning closer.

"What's up?" I asked, looking down at my plate of half eaten fish and chips.

"Toilets. Any second now, you lot are going to ..." Sherlock said, looking between John and I.

"Hang on. Tell me after..." Sherlock said, putting a hand on Sherlock's arm. "I need the loo."

"Same. I need the restroom." I said, getting up with John. "So many Rosé West Coast Coolers. I need to switch it to WKD."

"Mmm, on schedule." Sherlock said, smirking.

"Eh?" John asked, turning back to look at Sherlock.

"Nothing – go with Jared!" Sherlock yelled.

John and I stumble off, while Sherlock looks at his phone and pulls up his charts which will measure urine output against blood alcohol level. He updates the alcohol level chart and finishes it with a fancy flourish.

A little while later, John and I returned to the table.

"How long?" Sherlock asked.

"Sorry?" John asked.

"Your visit." Sherlock said.

"Don't know." I said, while John and I sat down and we gave Sherlock a quizzical look.

Sherlock looks down at his chart, "If either of you could estimate approximate volume discharged ..."

"Stop talking now." John said, half winking at Sherlock.

NEXT PUB...

John and I are together, and the army doctor takes a shot glass full of – presumably – whiskey...as I took a gin and tonic from the barman.

"Ooh, er ..." John said, glancing over his shoulder to where Sherlock is standing with his back to him. "Quick, one more. He mustn't see."

"He really shouldn't." I said, while John and I drank our respective shots in one gulp, with the army doctor humming appreciatively, then we took the second shots which the barman had brought us. "Thanks."

"Ta." John said, and the two cylinders are on the bar in front of him, full of beer, and he pours the whiskey into the left one. He takes both of them across towards Sherlock but then stops and looks at them, apparently unable to remember which one has the shot in it. Sniffing the left one and presumably thinking that that one contains only beer, he puts it onto the table. "There you go." Sherlock turns and picks it up. "Cheers."

"Thank you." Sherlock said.

Sherlock, John, and I drank our respective drinks.

NEXT PUB...

Sherlock is plastered. In the smoking area outside the pub, he is loudly and drunkenly gesticulating and sounding off to a male customer over the very loud music.

"I know ash!" Sherlock yelled, while John and I are sitting at a nearby table, looking fairly legless ourselves. The army doctor covered his face with his hand as I pulled the straps on my hoodie. "Don't – Tell – Me – I – Don't!"

On each word, Sherlock pokes the man in the upper chest with one finger, and on the last word he puts his hand on the man's shoulder and pushes him. Sighing, John and I look up as the man swings a punch at Sherlock's face. Sherlock sways back – possibly more by luck than judgement – and avoids it.

"Oh ..." John said, jumping up.

"Crap." I said, as thrown off-balance by his swing, the man stumbles forward and almost falls onto a nearby table. "We should help Sherlock."

One of his mates helps him up. John and I grab Sherlock from behind and we pulled him away while Sherlock flails wildly towards the man.

"All right, enough! That's ..." John said, grunting with the effort and slurring the rest of his words, he and I dragged Sherlock a few feet away, supporting most of his weight, before propping him onto his feet. "Stand up straight."

Sherlock turns round towards John and I.

I point towards the exit to Sherlock's left, "Yeah. We're getting the hell out of here, guys."

Sherlock points back towards the customer.

"Ashtray. I know ashtray." Sherlock said, slurring.

Baker Street...

Sherlock, John, and I are lying on the steps. John and I are on our backs by the wall with our arms folded; Sherlock is on his side facing the bannisters. The three of us have our eyes closed.

"I have an international reputation." Sherlock said, slurring.

John briefly opens his eyes, then closes them again and settles his head into a more comfortable position. Sherlock looks over his shoulder.

"Do either of you have an international reputation?" Sherlock asked, settling his head down and closing his eyes again.

"No, I don't have an international reputation." John said.

"Neither do I. I...I don't think I do." I said, slurring my speech. "If I did...I might have deleted it."

"No." Sherlock said, pausing for a moment, then turns his head towards John and I a little but doesn't open his eyes. "And I can't even remember what for." He thinks for a second. "Sss... Crime ... something or other."

Sherlock settles his head back down on the stair and grunts quietly. Sherlock, John, and I are lying near the bottom of their own staircase in Baker Street. The door to 221A opens and Mrs Hudson comes out with a bag of rubbish. She stops in surprise at the sight of us.

"Ooh! What are you doing back? I thought you were going to be out late." Mrs Hudson said, sadly.

"Ah, Hudders. What time is it?" Sherlock asked, slurring.

Mrs H looks at her watch, "You've only been out two hours."

Sherlock, John, and I are trying to stand but too tightly wedged together. Sherlock falls off the step and thumps on his backside onto the next step down.

221B Baker Street...

Later, we are upstairs, sitting in their armchairs in the living room, and I am watching Sherlock and John playing the Rizla Game on the couch. Rizlas are thin white pieces of paper, with glue along one of the long sides, which are used to roll up loose tobacco to form a cigarette.

Sherlock has a Rizla paper stuck to his forehead. Written on it in John's handwriting are the words 'SHERLOCK HOLMES'. He looks blurrily across to John, who has a Rizla stuck to his own forehead which reads, in somewhat wobbly writing by Sherlock, 'MADONNA'.

John peers at Sherlock, apparently trying to keep his eyes open, "Am I a vegetable?"

Sherlock, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, points at John, "You, or the thing?"

They both snigger.

"Funny!" John said, happily.

Sherlock looks down bashfully, "Thank you."

"Come on." John said.

"You got this, Shirley." I said, eating chocolate chip cookies on the couch to help me try and get sober again. "This isn't hard."

"My name...isn't Shirley." Sherlock said, raising his head again, with his words slurred. "No, you're not a vegetable."

"It's your go." John said, picking up his own glass and drinks.

"Errr ... am I human?" Sherlock asked.

"Sometimes."

"Can't have 'sometimes.' Has to be, um ..." Sherlock said, struggling to pull himself up a little in his chair.

"Yes, you're human." John said, putting down his glass and slumps back in his seat.

"... 'yes' or 'no.' ... Okay." Sherlock said, still finishing his previous sentence and leaning woozily forward, bracing his upper arms on his legs. "And am I a man?"

"Yep."

"Tall?"

John holds his hands wide, "Not as tall as people think."

"Hmm. Nice?" Sherlock asked.

"Ish." John said.

"Clever?"

"I'd say so." John said.

"Same." I said, placing another chocolate chip cookie into my mouth. "You're clever enough."

"You both would?" Sherlock asked, and John and I chuckled. "Mmm, am I important?"

"To s-some people." John said.

"Do 'people' ..." Sherlock said, making vague air-quotes around the word. "... like me?"

"Er, no, they don't. You tend to rub 'em up the wrong way." John said, reaching for his glass but not picking it up.

"Okay." Sherlock said, while John and I snigger as the consulting detective slumps back in his chair and then leans forward again. "Am I the current King of England?"

"Are you ...?" John asked, cackling with laughter. "You know we don't have a king?"

"Don't we?" Sherlock asked.

"No." John said, chuckling again briefly.

"You're not going to get a King of England for eight years." I said, laughing a lot.

"Jared. Spoilers." John said, laughing a lot with me.

"Your go." Sherlock said, sitting back and drinking from his glass.

Unfolding his legs, John shifts forward until he is sitting right on the edge of his seat. He instantly starts to slide off and reaches out to brace himself with one hand on Sherlock's right knee. He pushes himself back a little, then he and Sherlock look down at his hand. John pulls it away and holds both his hands out, shrugging.

"I don't mind." John said, while Sherlock raises his fingers around his glass and shrugs to indicate that he's not bothered either. "Am I a woman?" Sherlock looks at him for a second, then snorts laughter. He chuckles for a few moments. "What?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, as he he tries to straighten himself up on the chair again.

"Am I ... pretty?" John asked, pointing up to his Rizla. "This."

John props his head up on one fist.

"Err ... Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models." Sherlock said.

"Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?" John asked, blinking owlishly at Sherlock, who leans forward and screws up his eyes to peer at the Rizla.

"I don't know who you are. I don't know who you're supposed to be."

"You picked the name!" John yelled.

"Ah, but I picked it at random from the papers." Sherlock said, flailing a hand towards another part of the room.

"You're not really getting the hang of this game, are you, Sherlock?" John asked, slumping back in his seat. "Jared, who am I?"

"John, Sherlock chose fucking Madonna!" I said, angrily.

"Of course you wouldn't get it, Sherlock. You chose a pop culture icon."

"So I am human, I'm not as tall as people think I am ..." Sherlock said, raising his eyes towards his own Rizla and he sits back in the chair. "I'm-I'm nice-ish ..." John stretches out his socked feet and props them against the front of Sherlock's chair next to his friend's legs. "... clever, important to some people, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way." He laughs with delight. "Got it."

"Go on, then." John said.

"I'm you, aren't I?"

Mrs Hudson knocks on the open door.

"Ooh-ooh!" Mrs Hudson said, while Sherlock, John, and I looked round at Mrs Hudson who was standing in the doorway with a young woman who was wearing a nurse's outfit with a cardigan over it. "Client!"

"Hallo." John said.

"Hallo!" Sherlock said, waving at the woman.

"Hey." I said, as Mrs Hudson turned to go back down the stairs. "What's up?"

"Come on." John said, gesturing to the woman in the room.

"Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?" Tessa asked.

Smiling broadly at the woman, John raises his hand and – whistling a single rising note through his teeth in time with his hand movement – slowly points up towards the words on Sherlock's Rizla. Sherlock grins widely at her.

Shortly afterwards, Sherlock and John have removed the papers from their heads and the three of us have relocated to sit side by side on the sofa. Tessa sits on a dining chair facing us.

"I don't ... a lot ... I mean, I don't ... date all that much ..." Tessa said, hesitantly, as Sherlock sinks back on the sofa and props his head up on his left hand. "... and ... he seemed ... nice, you know?" John and I smile at her, then blink slowly, with us trying to keep our eyes open. "We seemed to automatically connect. We had one night – dinner, such interesting conversation. It was ... lovely." John smiles again and glances briefly towards Sherlock and I. "To be honest, I'd love to have gone further ..."

Sherlock's eyes drift closed. He forces them open and shakes his head, sitting up and withdrawing his right hand from where he had draped it along the back of the sofa behind John.

"... but I thought, 'No, this is special. Let's take it slowly ..." Tessa said, while Sherlock leans forward, braces his elbows on his legs and folds his hands in front of his mouth and John shifts his own position. "... exchange numbers." Sherlock's eyes drifted closed and I laid my head on the consulting detective's neck, asleep. "He said he'd get in touch and then ..." She looks down sadly. "Maybe he wasn't quite as keen as I was ..." John is practically asleep with his eyes open but he shrugs vaguely at her. "... but I – I just thought ..." Tessa becomes tearful. "... at least he'd call to say that we were finished."

Tessa lifts a hand to wipe a tear from her eye. Sherlock's face fills with sympathy and sadness for her. She falls silent and Sherlock looks away, his face still full of sympathetic pain ... then he frowns as if wondering where the hell that emotion came from.

"I went round there, to his flat." Tessa said, pulling herself together, and Sherlock has also recovered and props his chin on his clasped hands. "No trace of him. Mr Holmes ..."

Sherlock smiles cheesily at her, his eyes starting to close at the same time.

"... I honestly think I had dinner ... with a ghost." Tessa said, gazing down at the floor beside the sofa and she turns her head and looks at Sherlock.

Sherlock, John, and I can't react to what she just said, but a slight grunt comes from Sherlock, followed by a noisy but brief exhale.

"Mr Holmes?" Tessa asked, as Sherlock, John, and I have our eyes closed. Sherlock snores gently with my head sleeping on his neck and John's head drops lower and he grunts quietly, causing our client to speak loudly. "With a ghost, Mr Holmes!"

Sherlock's head falls off his hands and he almost tumbles off the sofa with me almost falling asleep on John's lap.

"Boring, boring, boring – no!" Sherlock said, forcing himself back upright, and he is now on top of me. "Who am I sitting on?"

"Can't...breathe..." I said, and Sherlock leaped off the sofa as I moved to the left side of the sofa while John drew in a noisy breath and rolled his head on his neck. "Thanks."

"Fascinating!" Sherlock said, turning round to John and I. "John, Jared – John! Jared! Wake up!" He shakes John's leg and my leg. John opens his eyes and flails at him. I opened my eyes and jumped off the couch. Sherlock turns to Tessa, with the consulting detective speaking in a slurred manner. "Apologies about my ..." He points towards John and I. "... you know ... thing." He pulls in a breath, clears his throat, then turns to John and I and points at us, in a stern manner. "Rude. Rude!"

Sherlock turns back to Tessa.

"I checked with the landlord, and the man who lived there died. Heart attack. And there we are, having dinner one week on." Tessa said, picking up her handbag from the floor and rummages in it. "And I found this thing online, sort of chatroom thing ..." She takes out a printout and gives it to Sherlock. "... for girls who think they're dating men from the spirit world."

John and I have fallen asleep again but Sherlock stands up and then wobbles a little unsteadily.

"Don't worry. I'll find him in ten minutes." Sherlock said, while Tessa smiles with delight. "What's your dog's name?"

"Yeah, I'm there if you want it." John said, blurrily, talking in his sleep.

"No. I am not going into a Dalek." I said, blurrily, talking in my sleep.

"John! Jared! Wake up!" Sherlock said, reaching down and shoves John's shoulder. John almost falls over sideways, towards me. "We're meant to ..." He clicks his fingers. "... The game's ..." Sherlock waves a hand vaguely "... something."

Sherlock stumbles away. John's eyes drift upwards as he applies all his mental skills to the problem and then points at Sherlock.

"... on." John said, and Tessa gasped excitedly.

Sherlock staggers over and points down at John.

"Yeah, that, that!" Sherlock said, turns and wanders off again.

"Okay!" Tessa said, standing up.

John slowly pushed himself to his feet and he used his hand to drag me off the couch.

LATER...

In a living room elsewhere, Sherlock wobbles unsteadily in front of a large clear glass plate on a stand. Sherlock, John, and I are in what looks like a warehouse conversion. It's a large apartment with bare brick walls and a very high ceiling. The room is decorated with several pieces of modern furniture and art. Sherlock grins drunkenly at the glass plate, then straightens up a bit and looks around the room. He is currently kneeling on the sofa with his arms braced on its back. John and I stand nearby, with us leaning against a supporting pillar in the middle of the room.

"Ohhh, it's nice!" John said, happily.

"It is!" I said, excitedly. "Very nice!"

Sherlock stands up off the sofa, then promptly falls back onto it. John and I turn a little and the two of us brace our hands against the supporting pillar. Tessa is standing nearby, together with the landlord who is holding a set of keys and looking at Sherlock, John, and I in confusion.

"Nice place." John said, smiling.

The landlord sighs and crosses his arms. Sherlock gets up and totters around the living room.

"See anything?" Tessa asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked.

"Any clues, Mr Holmes?"

John and I have now braced our backs against the pillar and have closed our eyes.

"Oh, errrrrr ..." Sherlock said, looking blurrily down at the fancy coffee table and starts deducing:

designer

table

art?

He looks across to an armchair:

chair

seat

leather

sleeeeep

Moving on to a fancy-looking speaker:

thing

speaker

hi tech

thing

His eyes drift on to a painted animal skull on a stand ...

? death ?

skull

? deaded ?

... and then to a tall slender ornament on the window sill ...

wood ?

? pipe/tube/wotsit

thingamebob?

?

... and to a pale green egg chair ...

egg ?

chair??

sitty thing?

???????????

Still umming vaguely, Sherlock wanders over to the chair and looks more closely at it, then twirls around and his eyes settle in a rather unfocused way on Tessa and he deduces her:

nurse

?? client ?

victim ??

cardigan

Scratching his head, Sherlock suddenly looks inspired. He grins at Tessa.

"I'm just gonna whip this out." Sherlock said, slurred, and putting his hand into his coat pocket, then stumbles in circles across the room while he tugs at whatever he's trying to pull out.

Eventually, Sherlock manages to extract his pouch of equipment from the pocket, simultaneously shaking off his coat and dropping it to the floor. He blinks at the pouch, then unrolls it and takes out his magnifier. Tossing the pouch over his shoulder, he holds the magnifier up to show the others.

"Mm-hmm?" Sherlock asked, clicking his magnifier open.

The landlord sighs again while Tessa smiles awkwardly. John and I are still half-asleep leaning against the pillar. Sherlock drops to his knees on a white rug, braces himself with his left hand and slowly wobbles forward onto his right elbow. Tessa turns to John and I and gently pushes us upright from the pillar.

"You lot all right?" Tessa asked, smiling at John and I.

"Oh. Yeah. We're fine. He's clueing." I said, vaguely.

"What?"

"He's ... hmm? He's clueing for looks." John said, as we look down at Sherlock, who has brought his face down to within about four inches of the rug.

Sherlock is holding his magnifier to his eye and looking through it, then his eyes drift closed and he slowly topples forward and face-plants onto the rug.

"Mr Holmes?" Tessa asked.

Sherlock doesn't respond, still on his knees with his bum stuck up in the air. He snores noisily. Tessa looks nervously at the landlord and steps forward towards Sherlock.

"Mr Holmes?!" Tessa exclaimed, louder.

"I'm calling the police." The landlord said.

"Oh, no ..."

The landlord walks across to the rug and hauls Sherlock up onto his knees.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sherlock said, flailing and indignant.

The landlord steps back as John holds out a warning hand to him.

"This is a famous detective. It's Sherlock Holmes and his partners, John Hamish Watson and Jared Shay." Tessa said, sadly.

John steps towards the landlord, attempting and utterly failing to look threatening.

"What d'you think you're doing? Don't compromise the integrity of the ..." Sherlock said, indignantly turning around, bending over and throwing up on the rug.

The landlord closes his eyes, and Tessa puts her hand across her mouth. John's eyes drift upwards as he goes into full thinking mode again. Eventually he finds the words he needs to finish Sherlock's sentence for him.

"... crime scene!" John said, loudly, and grinning triumphantly at me and holds up his right palm for me to high-five.

"Yeah!" I yelled, giving a high five to John who lowered his hand again, shaking his head.

Sherlock coughs and straightens up onto his knees again. He gestures towards John and I with the magnifier.

"Yeah, that." Sherlock said, looking up at the others, he holds up the magnifier and delicately clicks it closed, then wipes the vomit off his mouth.

Jail cell...

John is in a bright room somewhere. His heartbeat can be heard, and his gentle exhale sounds very loud. His eyes move behind his closed lids with a rasping sound. He screws up his eyes a couple of times, the movements making squelchy sounds, then he opens his eyes and blinks with a loud click. A door opens nearby and John is sitting on the floor of a white-tiled room with his back against the wall. He grimaces at the sound of the door.

"Wakey-wakey!" Lestrade said, cheerfully.

"Oh my God." John said, still grimacing.

"Damn..." I said, as John and I peered towards the door and now we see that beside him, Sherlock is flat out on his back and fast asleep on the bench of a police holding cell. "Shouldn't have drank all those spiked seltzers."

"You really shouldn't have," John said, frowning. "Greg. Is that Greg?"

"Get up. I'm gonna put you three in a taxi. Managed to square things with the desk sergeant." Lestrade said, while John and I painfully climbed to our feet with the detective inspector laughing disparagingly. "What a couple of lightweights! You couldn't even make it to closing time!"

"Can you whisper?" John asked, quietly as he slowly walked towards Lestrade.

"NOT REALLY!" Lestrade said, yelling in John's ear as he walked past.

Sherlock flails upwards on the bench, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock. He looks round the cell in bewilderment. John and I give Greg a look of hurt betrayal, then leaves the cell. Greg beckons to Sherlock.

"Come on." Lestrade said, following John and I.

Sherlock sits up on the bench, stands, totters, falls back onto the bench, then stands up and puts his fingers to his temples, wobbling on one foot. After a moment he lowers his hands and delicately paddles out of the cell.

POLICE STATION FRONT DESK...

Grunting with the effort, Sherlock puts on his coat. John tucks his wallet into his back pocket. I picked up my sling bag and wrapped it around my body.

"Well, thanks for a ... you know ..." John said, and we turned and walked away from the desk. "... an evening."

"It was awful." Sherlock said.

"It really was. Never make me drink that much in one sitting." I said, letting out a sigh.

"Yeah." John said, while Sherlock groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I was gonna pretend, but it was, truly."

"That woman, Tessa." Sherlock said, lowering his hand.

"What's wrong?" I asked, walking next to Sherlock.

"Dated a ghost. The most interesting case for months. What a wasted opportunity."

"... Okay." John said, frowning.

(Open POV)

221A Baker Street...

Jared is looking at a glass of water where an effervescent antacid pill is dropped into it and starts to fizz as it dissolves. After a few seconds John sighs quietly, picks up the glass and drinks.

"How are you feeling now?" Jared asked, eating his full English Breakfast and drinking a cup of coffee. "Better""

"Mmm." John said, drinking from what was in the glass again.

"It's just like old times, having you both back here." Mrs Hudson said, while John puts down the glass and smiles towards her where she brings a plate across the kitchen to the table where he's sitting. "John, I thought I'd make your favourite, one last time."

"You and Mary." Jared said, as Mrs Hudson put down the plate in front of John. "I love it. Wedded life."

The two plates contain a full English breakfast – a fried egg, two sausages, mushrooms, baked beans, tomato slices and two half-slices of buttered toast.

"Mm. Mrs Hudson, Jared, don't sound so ... final about it. I will be visiting, you know." John said, looking between Jared and Mrs Hudson.

"Ooh, I've heard that one before!" Mrs Hudson said, happily.

"Mm, no, it's different now, though, isn't it? Jared, it's different to when we thought we'd you and lost Sherlock." John said, picking up his cutlery and cutting into his breakfast.

"Lake Silencio didn't change the Ponds that much." Jared said, smiling. "After they got married."

"John and Mary aren't Amy and Rory, Jared, dear." Mrs Hudson said, and Jared is drinking his cup of coffee. "Well, marriage changes everything, John."

John lifts the forkful of food towards his mouth, then looks at it and pauses, "Does it?"

"Yup." Jared said, while he and Mrs Hudson sat down opposite John. "The honeymoon between the Girl Who Waited and the Lone Centurion. How romantic it was for them."

"You might not think it, but it does." Mrs Hudson said, as John moves the fork closer to his mouth, then changes his mind and lowers it back to the plate, groaning quietly. "It's a different phase in your life." John pushes the plate away from him a little. "You meet new people 'cause you're a couple ..."

"Mmm." John said.

"... and then you just ... let your old friends slip away." Mrs Hudson said.

"Like me!" Jared said, happily.

"Jared, it won't be like that. I promise." John said, smiling.

"I know."

"Well, if you've found the right one – the person that you click with – it's the best thing in the world." Mrs Hudson said.

"Well, I have. I know I have." John said.

"Oh, I'm sure. She's lovely!" Mrs Hudson said, excitedly.

"Yeah. I think so. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Did you think you'd found the right one when you married Mr Hudson?"

"No! It was just a whirlwind thing for us. I knew it wouldn't work, but I just got sort of swept along." Mrs Hudson said, smiling.

"Right." John said.

"And then we moved to Florida. We had a fantastic time, but of course I didn't know what he was up to." Mrs Hudson said, whispering to John and Jared. "The drugs."

"Drugs?" John asked, laughing.

"Don't forget 'Florida Man'." Jared said, laughing with John.

"Right..." John said, grimacing at the pain in his head. "I forgot that is a thing in America."

"He was running ... um, oh God, what d'you call it? Um, a ... cartel." Mrs Hudson said, while John props up his head with his fingers. "Got in with a really bad crowd."

"Right." John said.

"And then I found out about all the other women. I didn't have a clue! So, when he was actually arrested for blowing someone's head off ..." Mrs Hudson said, as John's eyes and Jared's eyes drift sideways, perhaps a little confused by the matter-of-fact way she just said the phrase. "... it was quite a relief, to be honest."

"... Right."

"It was purely physical between me and Frank. We couldn't keep our hands off each other." Mrs Hudson said, and John lowered his head, cringing. "I know: there was one night ..."

"Wait..." Jared said, holding up a finger to stop Mrs Hudson, then looked upwards. "Crap. Was that Sherlock?"

There's no sound coming from above them.

"Is it?" Mrs Hudson asked.

Jared continues to point upwards, and John raises the finger of his hand to his lips. After a moment, they hear footsteps upstairs.

"That's Sherlock." John said, and he and Jared get up and the two painfully walk towards the kitchen door, groaning quietly.

(Jared's POV)

221B Baker Street...

Upstairs, Sherlock has an online news article on his laptop screen. It shows a photograph of Major Sholto before he was injured, and a large strapline beside the photo reads, 'He destroyed us all. And he gets a medal for it'. A few visible lines of text above and below the photo show that this is an interview with Madeline Small, the mother of one of the soldiers who died under Sholto's command. The headline of the article reads, 'V.C. Hero – The Unanswered Questions. Why did my boy have to die?'

Sherlock looks towards the living room door when he hears John and I climbing the stairs. He switches to a different tab on the laptop – the website for I DATED A GHOST.COM. John and I come in and walk across to the dining table where Sherlock is sitting.

"There are going to be others." Sherlock said.

"Others?" John asked.

"Victims, women. Most ghosts tend to haunt a single house – this ghost, however, is willing to commute, look." John said, standing up and we look at a map of London spread out on the table behind the laptop.

Sherlock has stuck a pin in various places which presumably indicate an appearance of the 'ghost date.'

"Oh..." I said, holding my cup of coffee.

There are seven pins in the map, forming a rough circle spanning a few miles around the Thames.

(Open POV)

Council Chamber...

The room has wood panelling on the walls and a blue carpet. Banks of benches with red leather-covered seats form a semi-circle. There are six rows of these benches in tiers. At the front of the room on top of a high dais is a large ornate bench – reminiscent of a judge's bench in a courtroom – behind which is a chair where the Chairman would sit. This chair is high above the chamber floor. The chamber is initially empty but then the perspective changes and Sherlock is standing in front of the closed door at the rear of the room, and many women are standing silently in front of seats all around the room. Sherlock walks down the steps towards the floor, looking around him as he goes, then he reaches the bottom, walks across towards the Chairman's bench and turns to face the seats. There are at least forty-eight women standing around the room. Sherlock slowly scans all of them, then pulls a thoughtful face and points towards one of the women to his right.

"Mmmmmm, not you." Sherlock said, while the woman sits down and he points to another woman on the right. "Not you." That woman sits down and he takes a few steps forward and points to a woman on the left-hand side of the seating. "Not you." She sits and he points separately to two women behind her. "Not you. Not you."

The women sit down. Sherlock is dismissing woman after woman, each of whom sits down. Eventually only four women remain standing. Sherlock looks around the room once more, then walks over to the nearest of the standing women. She is wearing a black dress.

"Hi." Sherlock said.

"Gail." A woman said.

Sherlock turns and walks to the next nearest standing woman, who is wearing a denim jacket.

"Charlotte." The second woman said.

Sherlock turns his head to look at the third woman, wearing a pink jacket.

"Robyn." The third woman said.

Sherlock turns to the final standing woman, wearing a red dress and red leather jacket.

"Vicky." The fourth woman said.

Sherlock turns away and walks towards the Chairman's bench, then turns back and looks across the room again. The perspective changes and now all the seated women have vanished and the four remaining women are now standing in a semi circle in front of him. He looks at Gail.

"How did you meet?" Sherlock asked.

"Came up to me in a pub." Gail said.

Sherlock looks at Charlotte.

"Same gym as me." Charlotte said.

Sherlock turns his head to Robyn.

"We just got chatting on the bus." Robyn said.

Sherlock looks at Vicky, who lowers her eyes flirtatiously at him.

"Online." Vicky said, smirking.

Sherlock turns his head back towards Gail, "Name?"

"Told you." Gail said.

"His name." Sherlock said.

"Oscar."

Sherlock turns his head to Charlotte and then in turn to the other two.

"Mike." Charlotte said.

"Terry." Robyn said.

"Um, 'love_monkey'." Vicky said.

Sherlock frowns, then turns back to Gail.

"Your place?" Sherlock asked.

"His place." All four women said, simultaneously.

"Address?" Sherlock asked, looking at Gail.

The four women simultaneously recite four different addresses.

"Nothing happened. It was just ... very romantic." Gail said.

"Four women in four nights. He must have something special." Sherlock said, looking above the four women's heads.

"He was very charming."

"He listened." Charlotte said.

"He was sweet." Robyn said.

"He had a lovely ..." Vicky said.

"You okay?" John asked.

"You seem a bit stressed. And a bit into it." Jared said, sadly.

John and Jared are suddenly standing beside Sherlock. Sherlock raises his hand towards Vicky and there's a beep as she freezes and falls silent. He lowers his hand and turns his head to John and Jared.

221B Baker Street...

The three of them are standing in the living room of 221B. John looks down at the coffee table which has six laptops open on it. One of them is showing a typed message reading, 'VICKY: He had a lovely ...' Also on the table is a plate containing a slice of gammon steak with a pineapple slice on top of it, a fried egg and some chips.

"Let your food go cold. Mrs Hudson'll play hell." John said.

"She really would. She's like Kyoko Sakura." Jared said, sipping on his coffee. "Wouldn't want food to go to waste."

"Not now, John, Jared." Sherlock said, unbuttoning his jacket, he squats down to the coffee table and types onto the laptop which is showing Vicky's message.

The screen is on the website I DATED A GHOST.COM and he and Vicky are writing on its forum. His message comes up reading, 'SHERLOCK: Sorry about that'.

Council Chamber...

Sherlock's hand is raised to Vicky but now he lowers it, "Sorry about that."

The beep sounds again.

"He had a lovely manner." Vicky said.

Sherlock looks away.

"Different names, different addresses." Sherlock said, turning to Gail. "Describe him."

"Short blond hair." Gail said.

"Dark hair – long." Charlotte said.

"Ginger." Robyn said, shrugging. "I like gingers."

"Couldn't tell." Vicky said.

Sherlock gives Vicky a querying look.

"He had a mask on." Vicky said, in a laid-back way, signifying that it was nothing unusual.

Sherlock looks away.

Without transition, Sherlock is standing at the side of the Chairman's bench, holding a newspaper and quickly turning the pages until he reaches the Obituaries page.

"He's stealing the identity of corpses ..." Sherlock said, working through a different newspaper to its Obituaries page and zooms in on a message announcing the death of a Michael James Heaney. "... getting the names from the Obituary columns." He picks up another newspaper from the pile beside him and turns to the relevant page. "All single men. He's using the dead man's flat under the assumption it'll be empty for a while." Sherlock raises his head. "Free love nest."

"I feel sick." Gail said, looking down, appalled.

"It's gruesome." Robyn said.

"That's awful." Charlotte said.

"Clever!" Vicky said, looking impressed.

"Bastard!" Tessa yelled.

Sherlock – now standing in front of the women again – turns his head to see that Tessa is now standing between Charlotte and Robyn.

221B...

Sherlock's head turns at a beep from another laptop lying on one of the dining chairs. He goes across to it, where Tessa's message on the forum reads, 'TESSA: BASTARD!' He types onto that computer and his message appears reading, 'SHERLOCK: Hello Tessa'.

Council Chamber...

Sherlock greets Tessa. Tessa is wearing casual clothes and a long cardigan.

"Hello, Tessa." Sherlock said, while Tessa looked at him angrily. "Meanwhile, back to business. No-one wants to use a dead man's home."

Vicky shrugs as if she's not bothered. Sherlock throws her a disapproving look.

"... Least not until it's been cleared. So, he disguises himself, steals the man's home, steals his identity." Sherlock said.

"But only for one night." John said, suddenly beside Sherlock in the chamber with Jared again.

"One night. Maybe he's a ghost." Jared said, while Sherlock turns to look at him and John.

"Yeah. Then he's gone."

"He's not a ghost, John, Jared. He's a mayfly. He lives for a day." Sherlock said, as he turns back to the women and John and Jared have gone again. "So – what was it he was looking for?" He turns his head to Gail. "Job."

"Gardener." Gail said, now wearing a pale jumper and overalls.

"Cook." Charlotte said, wearing a cook's jacket and hat.

"Private nurse." Tessa said, now back in her uniform.

"I do security work." Robyn said, wearing a security officer's uniform.

"Maid." Vicky said, also wearing the appropriate outfit for her job.

Sherlock looks down for a brief moment, then raises his head, "Obvious. You all work for the same person!"

221B...

Sherlock moves from laptop to laptop, typing onto each one.

The Council Chamber...

Information rapidly scrolls across the face of each of the women in turn. Sherlock's research goes on for some time but finally, the consultant detective sighs.

"No, not the same employer. Damn." Sherlock said, screwing his eyes closed. "Come on. We can do this." He opens his eyes and looks towards Gail. "Ideal night out."

"Clay pigeon shooting." Gail said.

"Line dancing." Charlotte said.

"Pictures?" Tessa asked, shrugging.

"Wine in front of the telly." Robyn said.

"Dungeon." Vicky said, smiling quirkily at Sherlock.

Sherlock shakes his head in disbelief.

Sherlock turns his head to the front and shuts his eyes for a moment, then turns to Gail again, "Make-up."

"Clarins." Gail said.

"No. 7." Charlotte said.

"Maybelline." Tessa said.

"Nothing special." Robyn said.

"Whatever's cheap." Vicky said.

"Perfume." Sherlock said.

"Chanel." Gail said.

"Chanel." Charlotte said.

"Chanel." Tessa said.

Sherlock's face lights up with hope as he turns to Robyn.

"Chanel." Robyn said.

"Estée Lauder." Vicky said.

Sherlock shakes his head disappointedly at Vicky then looks directly at Tessa, "Ideal man?"

"George Clooney?" Tessa asked, looking off into the distance with a whimsical smile and grins at Sherlock.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, "Oh, no."

"Home-loving." Gail said.

"He'd have to like cuddling." Charlotte said.

"Caring." Robyn said.

"Ten things." Vicky said, holding up her thumb. "One: someone who isn't competitive with other men."

Sherlock frowns at Vicky, looking aghast.

"Two: someone who isn't constantly trying to define himself by his masculinity ..." Vicky said, holding up her forefinger and Sherlock held up his hand to her.

Vicky freezes. Sherlock closes his fingers and thumb together and there's a beep from a computer and looks up above the women.

"There's a unifying factor. There has to be." Sherlock said, lowering his hand and frowns. "None of you reported anything stolen." He looks down, then raises his eyes and points at the women one by one but this time not going straight round the semi-circle. Presumably he is working in the order in which the 'ghost' dated the women. "Security guard, gardener, cook, maid, private nurse. He's romancing his way up a pecking order, somebody's pecking order." He closes his eyes and talks sternly to himself. "Come on, think." Sherlock's eyes open again. "Unless ..." Sherlock twitches a small, brief smile and turns to Gail. "Do you have a secret you've never told anyone?"

"No." All five women said, simultaneously.

Sherlock smiles, "Gotcha."

"What d'you mean?" John asked, suddenly at Sherlock's side with Jared again.

"Everyone has secrets, and they all replied too quickly." Sherlock said.

"That is true. I have secrets. And I can't tell you about them because, well, spoilers." Jared said, letting out a sigh.

"Gotta go." Gail said, looking anxious, and walked away, and there's a brief electronic sound of her logging off in the real world.

"See ya." Charlotte said, while she too turns to leave/log off.

"No!" Sherlock yelled.

"Bye-bye." Robyn said, leaving/logging off.

"Wait!" Sherlock said, angrily.

"Sorry, sexy." Vicky said, winking at Sherlock. "Some secrets have to stay secret."

Vicky walks away/logs off.

"Enjoy the wedding." Tessa said, smiling at Sherlock.

Sherlock makes an exasperated sound as Tessa walks away/logs off.

221B...

Sherlock shuts down the lid on Tessa's laptop and straightens up.

"Why? Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?" Sherlock asked.

"You're missing the obvious, mate." John said, scoffing.

"You really are." Jared said, laughing a lot.

"Am I?" Sherlock asked, turning to John and Jared.

"He's a man." John said.

"Hence the name, 'Mayfly Man'." Jared said, still laughing.

"But why would he change his identity?" Sherlock asked, slamming the lids down on each of the laptops by turn.

"Maybe he's married." John said.

Sherlock slowly straightens up as if realising something, "Ohh."