Another day at 221B Baker st. London. Sherlock had been standing by the window staring at the world below. "So quite Watson." He stated calmly before plucking away at his violin strings. "how dreadful!" He hated not having cases. What worse was he hated the silence and the calm. He needed the chaos, he needed the challenge.

As if an angel heard his non existent prayer, Watson came in. "We have a case, Holmes." He said, flipping through some papers. "A young lady has gone missing."

"Do tell me Watson... did the girl go missing before or after you received the mail?" the necrotic detective asked as he pointed his bow in the other mans face.

Watson rolled his eyes and moved the bow out of his face with the back of his hand. "3 days prior. It's funny, actually. She looks like your type of lady."
A
"Let me see that." Sherlock said grabbed the file from his hand. "3 days you say. Hmm" he searched through the file and noticed a signature. "Watson... We have some work to do."

Watson raised a brow. "I've already got witnesses and her family to interview."

Sherlock gave Watson a once over and grinned. "Very good Watson where are they?" He looked around and waited for the man to present the first witness.

"They should be here in a few minutes. I wanted to make sure you looked presentable." Watson crossed his arms.

"I am perfectly presentable." Sherlock retorted. He stood there in his robe and nothing more. He really didn't care the stat that people saw him in not one little bit.

Watson covered his eyes as Sherlock's robe fell open. "God damnit, Holmes, put on some clothes!"

"I will do nothing of the such." Sherlock refused. Why should he, the great sherlock Holmes have to comply to society's demands. 

"For the sake of our friendship and me being seen with you, put. On. Some. Clothes!!"

Sherlock sighed and looked for the nearest set of clothes he had. "If you insist." he said getting dressed right there.

"Thank you." Watson grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Come now Watson it wasn't that bad." The detective said as he buttoned the last button on his shirt. "It's not like I am anything like my brother Mycroft."

"I would still rather not see any man nude." Watson mumbled. He glanced back over and rolled his eyes. "You can't even get dressed properly." He groaned and walked over, fixing a button that Holmes had buttoned in the wrong place.

Sherlock looked and down and smirked back at his long time friend. "What would I do without you?" He asked and slipped into his shoes.

"Be hissing at the sun and tryino drink something you found under the couch?" Watson smirked back.

"I don't know what your talking about." The detective said as he pucked a few more strings on his violin he had picked up again. "When will they be arriving."

"In about three... two... one..."

"John? You have some visitors." Mrs. Hudson called.

"Thank you, ma'am." John bowed.

An older woman came in being helped by a young man. She walked with a cane, though she looked like she was a tough little cookie in her past. The man looked no older than 25, and was taller than both Sherlock and Watson. He had dark brown messy hair and hazel eyes. He cleared his throat when he came in and the mother just helped herself to a seat. She eyes Sherlock with a look that could make a grown man cringe. "You don't look like much of a detective, boy."

"He never does." Watson gave a polite smile. "Holmes, this is Mrs. Wright, the missing girl's mother. And her brother, Jameson."

"Ah yes but do tell me....one of you knowa what happenes to hert dBut which." Sherlock circled around him measuring them up with his bow.

The brother watched the madman closely. The mother scoffed. "If we knew ANYTHING we wouldn't be here! I just want to know my daughter is safe!" She said and smacked her cane against the floorboards. The brother on the other hand, remained silent until he saw Gladstone lying dead on the floor. "What's wrong with the dog..." Jameson asked.

John looked over at Sherlock and raised a brow, then looked over at Gladstone. "Ignore him, it's just an... Experiment." He glared bitterly at his flatmate.

Sherlock placed down his violin and bow and picked up at dark and through it past his the boy's head. "Your here because your sister went missing. Where she went missing you don't know because if you did you wouldn't be here. But the fact that you are tell me that you know at least something about her where abouts or who took her. Judging by the wringing of you hands you know who but no where or why, but what you don't say is that you never told your mother because you're afraid that it would break her heart. What you don't know is that she has an underlying heart condition that if she put too much strain on it, which considering she could take a lot doesn't really say much, she would die of a heart attack." 

Jameson's eyes narrowed. "Mother, could you go have a chat with Mrs. Hudson please?" He asked softly. The mother went to protest, but grumbled and got up, slowly walking out. Once the door was shut, Jameson turned back to Sherlock and Watson. "My sister... she has a brilliant mind like you do. Shes been kidnapped by someone who is after you." He said and dug a note out of his pocket, handing it to Sherlock. The handwriting was obviously Moriarty's. "Shes being used to find your weakness." He said accusingly.

Watson closed his eyes slowly and rubbed his forehead. "Why can't you just not be you sometimes." He muttered. The doctor looked over at the note and sighed. "Moriarty." He sighed and got up, getting his coat. "Where was the last place you saw her, Jameson?"

"Ah yes... James Moriarty..." The detective snatch the letter out of the boy's hands and looked and read it over. "Where have you taken her." He sniffed the letter before licking the edge of it. "a bit of brick dust with the scent of formaldehyde. Would suggest funeral pallor, but the stain in the center of the letter said other wise. Where did you take her?"

Jameson looked at Sherlock as if he was the oddest thing on the planet. He looked to Watson, since he seemed the more sensible of the two. "She was at home when she received the letter... she handed it to me and instructed me to come to him." he said and jerked a thumb at Sherlock. "She also wanted me to give you this." he said and dug into his pocket, pulling out his sister's business card. Private detective Wright was on it, and there was an address on it, hers. What was interesting however was the address hastily written on the back. It was a cypher.

John nodded understandingly and put on a glove, taking the card and examining it. "... Wright... Addaline Wright... Private De-.... P. D. A. W." Watson's eyes widened. "Sherlock, Sherlock, this is that young lady from Oxford! What did she call herself... Privé Inquisitor. Privé is French for Private, Inquisitor is Latin for Detective..."

"I knew that Watson. Now the thing is... How shall we get her back?" He paced the floor for a moment before grabbing his own coat. "Where was the last place she was seen?"

"The stables of our house. She took one of the horses instead of taking a cab. She took Flynt, our fastest steed." Jameson said and sighed. "I've looked... she left nothing behind but her scarf."

John glared a bit. Sherlock could never let him have a moment, could he? "Shall I take the scarf in for mineral testing?"

Sherlock too the scarf and looked over. "no there is no traces life behind except..." He paused and sniffed the articular of clothing. "Something's off, something... faint." He took another sniff, turn his head and sneezed. "where exactly did you find this?"

Jameson sighed. "Hanging up in the horse's stall. I think she might have left it there on purpose." he said.

John nodded. "A trail of bread crumbs, if you will. Let me see it, Sherlock. I'll get it tested."

The detective handed the scarf over and started looking around for equipment. "Take us to the scene."

Jameson actually seemed decently surprised they were actually going to help. He cleared his throat.

John got to his feet and pulled on his coat. "Shall I meet you there in a half hour?"

"Thank you Watson." Sherlock said as he lastly grabbed his coat. "Shall we then."

Jameson nodded to Watson, and lead Sherlock out to the front of the building, where a horse and carriage were waiting. Jameson thought it polite, so he opened the door for the other gentleman.

John nodded and leaned towards Sherlock. "Be careful... He looks suspicious to me." He mumbled before headed down the street.

Holmes thanked the boy and watched Watson as he made his way out of veiw. "So you say she left on her own accord and now she's been taken." He looked over the letter again and started to put it all together.

"For being like you." Jameson said with a slight bitterness as he got in the carriage with Sherlock. "She followed all of the newspaper clippings about your cases. She was glad to finally find someone that thought like she did." he said. "And now your enemy has captured her for her mind, to find out a way to beat you."

"I doubt that would be the real reason." Though SHerlock knew that it could very well be but he needed just a little more information first.

Jameson looked at Sherlock. "You're cocky, aren't you."

"Very astute." the detective replied and as he watched out the window.

Jameson rolled his eyes and hopped out once the carriage rolled up to an old farm. "This way." he said.

Following the boy, Sherlock made a note of everything around them.

Jameson led him right into the barn. "... here is where I last saw her..." he said softly.

He looked around the stall and out toward the direction she was leaving. "Well I know she would have to stop at at least 3 kilometer out." He point out at the tracks leading out of the stables.

Jameson looked at him with an odd look. "Why would she do that?" he asked.

Sherlock turned and looked around the stall a little longer before answering. "She must have been in a hurry and forgot."

Jameson sighed. "So you can't help..." he mumbled softly and looked at the ground.

"ah but I can. I would just need to need follow he trail until she was taken." He said as he started to walked the trail that she had taken off.

Jameson wasn't sure if he should follow, but he decided to anyways, following after Sherlock quietly.

A few miles they walk with sherlock muttering to himself about the surroundings until the trail came to a stop. "This is where she could go no further. The horse had injured it's foot."

Jameson looked around impatiently. "Then where is she?"

"Well good sir we haven't gotten that far yet." Sherlock said as follow a trail that looked as if some one had bee dragged and then lifted away.