After they took Deidre and Wiggins to their respective homes, Holmes had Watson drop him off a block or two from Baker Street.

"Why do you want to be let off here?" the compudroid asked as he landed the hovercoach.

"I fear I cannot tell you now," Holmes said as he got out of the car. Closing the door, he started off down the street. "I shall see you in about an hour, my friend."

Watson watched his human friend head down the street. My, but this whole ordeal has been taxing on him -- thankfully, it will be over soon.

Holmes looked straight ahead of him, walking briskly and barely nodding to those who caught his eye.

Lord, please let this all work out, he prayed in his head. It just has to work out--for Tennyson's sake.

Once again he found himself at the gaping entrance to the Old London Underground. Drawing a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, he descended into its depths.

 

A little over an hour later, Watson was preparing supper. He looked up when he heard the creak of the opening door. "Holmes, you're back!"

"Yes, Watson, I am," Holmes said abruptly, immediately heading for the computer.

Watson looked at the pot of stew on the stove. "Sherlock, supper will be ready in a moment."

"It shall have to keep, my friend," his roommate answered, tapping his foot and folding his arms across his chest as he waited for the computer to warm up. "Bloody technology -- we made it just fine without it in my day -- hurry up already!"

"Some of the lines may yet be frozen from the latest snowfall," Watson, said, coming out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. "What is it you're doing, Holmes?"

The detective glanced over his shoulder at him. "I must contact Lestrade, Watson," he explained, "--and then Wiggins and Deidre. I must tell them what I want them to do tomorrow."

Watson's synthetic eyes widened. "I see."

He immediately went to turn down the stew.

The computer finally reached its full power. Holmes walked up to the control panel and got linked to New Scotland Yard.

"Person with whom you wish to make contact, please?" came a canned female voice.

"Inspector Beth Lestrade," Holmes said, folding his arms again.

Within seconds, the Inspector's face appeared on the screen. "What is it, Holmes?"

"Tennyson's kidnappers have given their instructions to Mrs. Fayre," Holmes told her. "I want you to be at the ransom drop tomorrow."

Lestrade frowned. "Sure, Holmes, but--"

"Of course, you will not be in sight of whoever comes to meet Mrs. Fayre. I want you to be quite close by, however, in order to make the arrest when we get Tennyson back."

Lestrade looked downward. "Holmes--"

"I want you to be there to make an arrest, Lestrade. Is that clear?" the detective interrupted. He wasn't at all in the mood to hear what he thought Lestrade was going to say--What if we don't get Tennyson back?

She looked up at him again. "When and where is the drop gonna be made?"

"One o'clock. It will be at the warehouse on Kirtling Street -- on the Cringle side." Holmes explained. "I want you to be with Deidre and Wiggins -- please pick them up on your way."

Lestrade looked about to say something, then must have changed her mind, as Holmes saw her open her mouth, then close it again. "Sure thing, Holmes."

She tilted her head then, curiously. "Where will you be?"

Holmes smirked. "I shall be there in my own capacity. I shall see you tomorrow, Lestrade."

The inspector nodded, and the screen went blank.