Authors Note: Man I'm on a role! Whoop! But anyway, I've got some other stuff in the works but I figure one at a time. I'd like to finish this story, I haven't finished anything in a while. So keep those reviews coming, they are very helpful motivators! I own nothing.

5. The Clue

Two hours later they finally arrived at the headquarters of Janus Cars, London traffic was horrible, especially since it had started pouring down outside. They were shown into the office of Mr. Ewart, the owner of Janus Cars. Sherlock didn't trust him on site.

"I honestly don't know how I could help you." He was talking more to John as Sherlock prowled around his office looking for clues. John jotted down something in that ridiculous note book he'd taken to keeping. Sherlock had only ever seen him use it as a reference for his stupid blog, but that wasn't what she was worried about right now. John was asking all the usual questions.

"Mr. Monkford hired the car from you yesterday?" Mr. Ewart nodded.

"Yeah lovely motor, Mazda RX-8. I'd love one." Sherlock leaned over and pointed at the far wall of the office.

"Is that one?" She asked innocently knowing that the answer would be no. Mr. Ewart looked where she was pointing. She quickly glanced down examining his tan line, a very distinct tan line.

"Nah, they're all jags. I can see you don't know much about cars." He smiled condescendingly at her and she brushed her pony tail back over her shoulder.

"But surely you can afford one, a Mazda I mean."

"Yeah, but you know how it is, it's like working in a sweet shop. Once you start picking up the licorice allsorts when does it all stop?" He began to scratch his arm absent mindedly and Sherlock noticed a speck of blood appear on his shirt sleeve. John continued with the questions.

"But you didn't know Mr. Monkford?" Mr. Ewart shook his head.

"Nah he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what could have happened to him, poor sod." Sherlock interrupted before John could continue.

"Nice holiday Mr. Ewart?" He looked at her confused. She motioned to his tan.

"You've been away haven't you?" He shook his head.

"Nah, sun bed I'm afraid. Far too busy to get away. My wife would love it though, a bit of sun." Sherlock nodded and reached into her pocket.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine? I noticed one on the way in and I'm gasping." Mr. Ewart pulled out his wallet and opened it. He pulled out some change and Sherlock handed him the bill. John was a bit disappointed; he thought she was on the nicotine patch. She smiled at him.

"Thank you. And thank you very much for your time Mr. Ewart. You've been very helpful. Come on John!" She left and John followed close behind. He paused at the cigarette machine but Sherlock just kept going.

"Wait didn't you."

"Nicotine patches, remember? I'm doing well."

"Then why?"

"I needed to look inside his wallet."

"Why?"

"Because Mr. Ewart's a liar."

The rain had slowed to a light sprinkling by the time Sherlock arrived at Bart's and began to examine Ian Monkford's blood. She had just added a chemical compound to the blood when the phone rang again. Sherlock paused then answered it.

"Hello." The crying man was still on the line and it frustrated Sherlock a little to have to speak through pawns.

"The clue's in the name, Janus Cars." Sherlock frowned; she didn't need him to give her clues. But the bigger question was the one she now asked.

"Why would you be giving me a clue?"

"Why does anyone do anything? Because I'm bored. We were made for each other Sherlock."

"Then talk to me in your own voice."

"Patience." The dial tone sounded and Sherlock glanced down at the blood in the Petri dish. It was sizzling away. She had been right. She called up Lestrade and told him to meet her and John in the impound lot where they had towed the car. She grabbed her coat and scarf and headed out to the lobby of Barts where she found John fast asleep.

"John! Wake up." He started awake and sat up rubbing at his eyes.

"Have you solved it?"

"We are meeting up with Lestrade come on, there are only four hours left." They loaded into the back of the cab and Sherlock remained silent for the entire ride to the lot. Detective Inspector Lestrade was waiting for them. Sherlock waited no time on pleasantries.

"How much blood was on that seat do you think?" Lestrade frowned and rubbed the back of his head.

"How much? I don't know, about a pint?" Sherlock shook her head.

"Not about, exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood is Ian Monkford's but it's been frozen." Lestrade stared.

"Frozen?" Sherlock nodded.

"Yes there are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that's what they spread on the seat." It was John's turn to frown.

"They?"

"Janus Cars. The clue's in the name."

"The god with two faces?" Sherlock nodded a bit surprised that John recognized that bit of Greek mythology.

"Exactly, they provide a very special service. If you've got any kind of problem, financial at a guess here Ian Monkford was a banker, Janus Cars will help you disappear. He couldn't see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was discovered with blood all over the driver's seat then all his problems would go away." John nodded.

"So wait where is he?" Sherlock closed the passenger side door of the car.

"Columbia." Lesrade raised an eyebrow.

"Columbia?" Sherlock nodded.

"Mr. Ewart of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Columbian peso note in his wallet. He told us he hadn't been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars I saw his tan line clearly. No one wears a shirt on a sun bed. That plus his arm…" Lestrade interrupted looking a bit confused.

"His arm?"

"Yes, he kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. Why? Because he'd recently had a booster jab, Hep B probably. Difficult to tell at that distance. Conclusion: He'd just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Columbia. Mrs. Monkford collects the life insurance and splits it with Janus Cars."

"Mrs. Monkford?" Sherlock nodded at John.

"Oh yes, she's in on it too. Now why don't you go and arrest them Inspector, that's what you do best. I need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved. I am on fire!" With that Sherlock turned and started to walk away. John could see the spring in her step. She was on a crime solving roll and she was happy about it.

As soon as they got back to Baker Street Sherlock snatched up her laptop and typed out her message on her website.

'Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Columbia.'

She hit the submit button and waited. A few seconds later the phone rang. Sherlock put it on speaker phone.

"He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me please!"