I am fascinated by the talents of the main characters of this story, and putting them together was really a challenge for me. As you progress with this fanfic, please bear in mind that I am not siding with either nationality/country. I would like to deal with the possibilities and the intricacies of network of experts and the display of their talents while keeping a careful note on their vested interests.

Please do not hesitate to post a review. I would really like to improve this, and I am in dire need of your help.

CHAPTER 1

"Welcome to America." Dr. Lightman managed a quick smile after shaking his guest's hand.

"Thank you."

"To my office, please."

Whispers and stares led them upstairs. Lightman wasn't comfortable with it, but it is utterly impossible to keep the people in the Institute from being intrigued by the Consultant.

"Sorry about that." He said, at last, when he closed the door.

"About what?"

"The people downstairs—"

"Think I'm a psychopath. They don't trust me. And they want me out of this case."

"No." Lightman looked hard on Sherlock's face. "I mean, no that's not what I want them to think about you."

"Is it possible to control their thoughts about me?" He smirked.

"Irrelevant." Lightman blurted.

"Exactly."

"Really, Sherlock, you're a helluva a guy."

Sherlock seated himself and started reading the files.

"Coffee? Tea?"

"Tea, please."

"Three days, you say?"

"I should be back to England by then."

"We're sorry for the short notice."

"Very short, I must say. But I've been dying to cross international borders for months now."

Lightman turned around. "You're thrilled."

"Just like a child." He smiled.

"Here's your tea."

"Thank you."

"So, what do you think?"

"You're the expert: is she lying?" Sherlock put down the folder.

"Unfortunately no."

"That's odd. The woman killed him. It's plain to see."

"Is it really anything but about the money? Because if that's the case, then we're wasting our time."

Silence loomed over the office.

"Mistaken identity." Sherlock finally said.

"Whose identity?"

"The girl."

Lightman sat adjacent Sherlock. He took a sip at his coffee and waited for Sherlock's deductions.

"She was orphaned at three. Adopted by an insurance broker. Home-schooled. Led a sheltered life. Married, once, at twenty-six. Adoptive parents died in an accident three months after her wedding. No children. Lives with her husband. No guards nor maids. So no witnesses. Only she and the plain truth that her husband was murdered because he asked his killer the most pressing question that you should be asking the widow now." It was Sherlock's turn to take a sip at his tea.

"Twins?"

"Bingo."

Lightman sighed. "You talk too much, Sherlock."

"Oh, you haven't heard everything yet."

"I'm listening."

"Cal," Sherlock got up. "I'm really disappointed at you."

"The feeling is mutual."

"I wouldn't work for you."

"Who said about working for me?"

"Oh, Cal. You cannot lie to me now."

"Look who's telling the truth."

"You summoned me for a boring case. Congratulations, Cal. That was really inspiring. And I have two more days to waste."

"Let's make it one. But only if you can convince the Def Sec that your brother isn't plotting against the Department."

"Mycroft?"

"Unless you have another brother."

Sherlock let himself relax. Two days isn't enough, but if he can contact John to help him sort things out, maybe a quick fix would be indeed possible.

"Will he be in jail after this?"

"That's a guarantee."

Sherlock walked to the window and stared blankly at the gray clouds looming above the busy streets.

"Brilliant!" He finished his tea.