— A D-notice has been slapped on the entire incident. Only those within this room – code names Antarctica, Langdale, Porlock and Love – will ever know the whole truth. As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond, Charles Augustus... Are you tweeting?!
— No.
— Well, that's what it looks like.
— Of course I'm not tweeting. Why would I be tweeting?
— Give me that.
— What? No. What are you doing? Get off. What?
— Give it here. "Back on terra firma.."
— No, don't read them out.
— "Free as a bird."
— God, you're such a spoilsport.
— Will you take this matter seriously, Sherlock?
— I am taking it seriously. What makes you think I'm not taking it seriously?
— Hashtag, "Ohwhatabeautifulmorning."

— How did you find me?
— I'm Sherlock Holmes.
— Really though, how? Every movement I made was entirely random. Every new personality, just on the roll of a dice.
— Mary, no human action is ever truly random. An advanced grasp of the mathematics of probability mapped on to a thorough apprehension of human psychology and the known dispositions of any given individual can reduce the number of variables considerably. I myself know of at least fifty eight tecniques to refine the seemingly infinite array of randomly generated possibilities down to the smallest number of feasible variables. But they're really difficult, so instead I just stuck a tracer on the inside of the memory stick.